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the-countless-first-briefing	<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>The Countless First Briefing</strong><br/> <strong>By:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/unnahuz" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3662783); return false;"><img alt="UnnaHuz" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3662783&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052799" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3662783)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/unnahuz" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3662783); return false;">UnnaHuz</a></span></p> <p><em>"From now on, there is no turning back for you."</em></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The newcomers had all arrived.</p> <p>In just a few minutes, the tiny conference room was packed with Foundation staff. A short briefing was about to take place. Peyton Ridley, a researcher in Site-133's Memetics Department, was to tell newbies what the hell they were facing.</p> <p>"Okay, okay, so let's get started," he knocked on the table to signal the audience to shut up, "I know you don't really like it. Every time you hear a word, your eyelids close a little more — hey, don't really close your eyes, kid! — but my following words will help you with future work. Look, if you can't bear my talk, how can you suffer from those… harmful vocal memes? So, let's start with the easy part."</p> <p>Peyton opened the slides. The title "What are memes?" made more people sleepy. Peyton didn't mind too much. At least <em>that</em> part was really just a walk in the park.</p> <p>"A meme is, simply put, a piece of information - that can evolve and spread like a gene. Memes can be transmitted via carriers, and carriers can be absorbed by humans. When humans understand the content of the meme, they will be affected. Simple, right? Memes can be accessed by humans through hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting, etc. In a way, some amnestic techniques are also implemented by memes. When there are people who should get their memories erased, the Foundation will create a memetic agent. After they absorb the agent and understand the meme contained inside, the meme will then function, deleting their memories.</p> <p>"Yes, the Foundation had fumbled with functional and even hazardous memes for a long, long time; we suffered many losses. By now, the Foundation has been able to create different kinds of memes quite freely. Also, memetics - the area we are working on - is kind of cutting edge among all research topics of the Foundation. I would like to thank you for joining us - I will let you know that you come to the right place to unleash your potential.</p> <p>"A little bit off-topic just now. Uh, one more thing before we go to the next slide: memes cannot really alter reality. For example, a pair of memetic wings make you <em>think</em> that you have a pair of wings. Probably you could see, hear, feel, or even smell them, but they are <em>not</em> real. If you really jump off the cliff, you will die, but feel as if you were still floating. Clear, everyone?"</p> <p>Peyton turned to another slide. The title was "Context".</p> <p>"In most cases, even if the meme is presented differently, as long as the receiver understands it in the same "context", it will probability achieve the desired effect. Here, we coin "context" as all information acquired by a human before they being exposed to a meme. Then what if the context is different? For example, if there is an amusing text string that has gone viral on the Internet, will readers speaking other languages understand them? No, even if with the same string - the same form to present a meme - different people have different reactions. Why?"</p> <p>Peyton drew a large question mark on the blackboard.</p> <p>"Because the context is different. Two people come from different information environments. The information they acquired before they see the string also differs. So, their reactions are different. Generally, a memetic agent could cast various effects on various kinds of people. "</p> <p>"Now's the key part, guys," Peyton tapped the table and switched to the next slide. "How do we eliminate the effects of anomalies that are cast upon civilians? Think about it. If a large group of people are exposed to something weird, we have to use amnestics. In most cases, those amnestics are memetic agents. Specifically, if infohazards smashed against humans, we have to counteract those effects with corresponding memes. Memes, memes, and memes. There are just too many places to use memes, <em>too many</em>. Right?</p> <p>"What about the consequences? What happened to civilians right now? Under our impeccable guard, every breath of air contains dozens of chemicals - which are used to carry memes. Every dozen meters or so, a loudspeaker is secretly placed to transmit audio signals with memes. Pictures influencing humans' subconscious are embedded in every corner of civilians' daily lives. That's it. Their world is wrapped up tightly with our memes.</p> <p>"Since most of the meme carriers we use are chemicals and sounds, what if they mix together? With air pressure, temperature gradient, and other environmental factors, will 'memetic flows' form in a macro way?</p> <p>"<a href="/scp-3475">The answer is, yes.</a> It is a sin of the whole SCP Foundation. We created a memetic flow and it is so large. After a long time of mixing and shifting, it covered the whole civilian area like a dome. Ordinary people absorbed so many kinds of widespread memes and adapted to it. But, BUT, for us, the Foundation, it all becomes different. Think about it: as soon as we get to the civilians, we will be brainwashed by countless memes, suffering from intense headaches, vomiting, confusion, you know, and possibly being dead. After we adapt to the environment - if we could survive - the torturing experience will repeat when we return to the Foundation.</p> <p>"The only way to get rid of memetic chaos is using a large dose of amnestics, but is it sufficient enough? If so, then what if excess amnestics permanently blow up the brain of a talented researcher?" Guiders have told you that you all have experienced amnestics upon arrival. Some of you already become wasted. Don't look around! They're not sitting here. They don't deserve it. Anyway, the massive memetic flow is fatal to us.</p> <p>"How many of you remember what your application forms look like?"</p> <p>"Who did? You just say that our memories have been erased." A young man shouted at the back of the meeting room.</p> <p>"Good. You're right. Now let me help you to recall some important stuff." Peyton snapped his fingers. The slides ended and the curtain rose slowly. "'SOCIAL CONTACT' and 'IDENTITY MASKING'. You may notice that under these two entries, there are very few options. The area for answer is too large as if it had just been redacted. Well, it's true.</p> <p>"First, 'SOCIAL CONTACT'. In past surveys you are able to choose 'requesting contacts with civilians' or 'requesting contacts with parents only', but now you can only pick 'full prohibition of any civilian contacts'. Why? Memetic flows. Foundation members and their families are living in two completely different environments. As I said before, it is hard to travel from the Foundation side to the civilian area. Then what about telecommunications? Because of the influence of memes, the same piece of information could convey different - sometimes even harmful - contents to different individuals. Recall 'context', the word I said before. Since civilians have already absorbed too many kinds of memes, they are in different contexts compared to us. It isn't hard to imagine that, a word string could be normal to them, but a lethal curse to us.</p> <p>"Here's an example. Months ago, we had a young employee in our lab. He insisted that he keep in touch with his family. We allowed it. On his birthday, his parents bought him a cake. Its shape and dressing went viral on Tiktok and Facebook at that time: special font for 'Happy birthday'; weird stripes on chocolate coating; candles like old tree trunks. His parents took a photo of the cake and sent it to him. Yes, just bought a cake, decorated it a bit, took a photo, and sent it. Simple, right? But what's the consequence? That photo frightened the hell out of him and he got severe insomnia for a long, long time. We found out that the decoration of the cake carries a meme, and it can trigger creepiness. But for civilians, since they have met too many memes already, that scary effect became just a slight thrill. Ah, that poor employee is doing clerical work in other departments now, no longer with us… "</p> <p>Peyton stopped. He found some listeners opened their mouths. He ignored them, slowly sipped the coffee on the table, and continued.</p> <p>"So, here is a potential danger for any means of communication. We need to block them until we develop a translation tool that can strip harmful memes out of information flows.</p> <p>"Another one, 'IDENTITY MASKING'. Choices like 'front desk employee' awaited you in previous application forms. But now, per previous concerns, you have only two options, 'complete data erasion' and 'fabrication of death certificate'."</p> <p>He paused again as his black glasses - dipped with sweat - were about to drop. Looking around, he began to speak.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>"From now, there's no turning back for you. Welcome to the pure, cruel world of truths."</em></p> </div> <p>Then he let his assistant distribute handbooks for the newcomers. "Here's the manual. Keep it. The topic list is on the final page. You should fill out that list and tear the page. Then, hand it to your supervisor. They will further talk about what you're going to do next, especially your future research topics. Yes, I know amnestics erased your memories. No worries, we did our best to keep most of your necessary knowledge. Also, you are chosen because you are talented and learn things really fast. Be confident. Your thirst for the unknown future is an instinct, engraved in your heart. It won't be extinguished by amnestics for sure… Any questions?"</p> <p>A lad stood up, raising his hand.</p> <p>"Joey? Okay, shoot." Peyton said.</p> <p>"Hello, Mr. Ridley. I just want to ask, um, you just mentioned that our Foundation formed memetic flows because of various memes we spread, right?"</p> <p>"You're right."</p> <p>"Then, is that memetic flow stable? To make it suitable for Foundation needs, how many additional things we should do?"</p> <p>"A lot, Joey, A LOT." Peyton stirred his coffee - well, it was cool already. "Sometimes, memetic agents in an area could react or resonate with each other. With the help of environmental effects, the mix of agents could create new memes; or, previous memes will malfunction. In the past years, the Foundation can create accurate memetic agents. They act exactly as we desired. Now it is different. We should take the memetic and even meteorological environment into consideration when making memes. Even so, some of our attempts become unsuccessful: maybe we created unexpected harmful memes; maybe previously functioning memes misfired. Whatever the outcome was, to solve these problems, we could only invent even more memes to counter the effects.</p> <p>"So I should say, those working in our Memetics Department, and especially those directly taking care of <a href="/scp-3475">SCP-3475</a>, should only be elites like <em>you</em>.</p> <p>"You need to work day and night, dealing with medicine, electromagnetic waves, and sounds. You should really immerse yourself in your research. Your heart and soul should be tortured intensely to create memetic medicines that are helpful - but also ephemeral. For those who cannot suffer from the job… the best result for them is A-class amnestics, starting their project all over. In severe cases, their cognitive abilities will be severely impaired, and they will count their final days in confusion and delirium."</p> <p>Joey nodded his head.</p> <p>Peyton looked around. No more questions for him to answer.</p> <p>"Just a couple of minutes. I don't think I keep you guys long.</p> <p>"Hope today will be your last first day for briefing."</p> <p><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="/the-countless-first-briefing">The Countless First Briefing</a>" by UnnaHuz, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-countless-first-briefing">https://scpwiki.com/the-countless-first-briefing</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>]] [[module CSS]] /* 2021 wikidot theme / / by UnnaHuz / :root { --gradient-sidemenu-header: linear-gradient(10deg,rgba(70,107,115,0.45),rgba(var(--medium-accent),0.55)); --header-gradient-color-bottom: 70,107,115; --header-subtitle: "Skies Made Strange"; --pale-accent: 124,167,175; } #header h2 span { color: transparent; text-shadow: none; } #header h2 span::before { content: 'Skies Made Strange'; color: #efefef; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0,0,0,.8); } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] The Countless First Briefing* By: [[*user UnnaHuz]] //"From now on, there is no turning back for you."// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] The newcomers had all arrived. In just a few minutes, the tiny conference room was packed with Foundation staff. A short briefing was about to take place. Peyton Ridley, a researcher in Site-133's Memetics Department, was to tell newbies what the hell they were facing. "Okay, okay, so let's get started," he knocked on the table to signal the audience to shut up, "I know you don't really like it. Every time you hear a word, your eyelids close a little more -- hey, don't really close your eyes, kid! -- but my following words will help you with future work. Look, if you can't bear my talk, how can you suffer from those... harmful vocal memes? So, let's start with the easy part." Peyton opened the slides. The title "What are memes?" made more people sleepy. Peyton didn't mind too much. At least //that// part was really just a walk in the park. "A meme is, simply put, a piece of information - that can evolve and spread like a gene. Memes can be transmitted via carriers, and carriers can be absorbed by humans. When humans understand the content of the meme, they will be affected. Simple, right? Memes can be accessed by humans through hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting, etc. In a way, some amnestic techniques are also implemented by memes. When there are people who should get their memories erased, the Foundation will create a memetic agent. After they absorb the agent and understand the meme contained inside, the meme will then function, deleting their memories. "Yes, the Foundation had fumbled with functional and even hazardous memes for a long, long time; we suffered many losses. By now, the Foundation has been able to create different kinds of memes quite freely. Also, memetics - the area we are working on - is kind of cutting edge among all research topics of the Foundation. I would like to thank you for joining us - I will let you know that you come to the right place to unleash your potential. "A little bit off-topic just now. Uh, one more thing before we go to the next slide: memes cannot really alter reality. For example, a pair of memetic wings make you //think// that you have a pair of wings. Probably you could see, hear, feel, or even smell them, but they are //not// real. If you really jump off the cliff, you will die, but feel as if you were still floating. Clear, everyone?" Peyton turned to another slide. The title was "Context". "In most cases, even if the meme is presented differently, as long as the receiver understands it in the same "context", it will probability achieve the desired effect. Here, we coin "context" as all information acquired by a human before they being exposed to a meme. Then what if the context is different? For example, if there is an amusing text string that has gone viral on the Internet, will readers speaking other languages understand them? No, even if with the same string - the same form to present a meme - different people have different reactions. Why?" Peyton drew a large question mark on the blackboard. "Because the context is different. Two people come from different information environments. The information they acquired before they see the string also differs. So, their reactions are different. Generally, a memetic agent could cast various effects on various kinds of people. " "Now's the key part, guys," Peyton tapped the table and switched to the next slide. "How do we eliminate the effects of anomalies that are cast upon civilians? Think about it. If a large group of people are exposed to something weird, we have to use amnestics. In most cases, those amnestics are memetic agents. Specifically, if infohazards smashed against humans, we have to counteract those effects with corresponding memes. Memes, memes, and memes. There are just too many places to use memes, //too many//. Right? "What about the consequences? What happened to civilians right now? Under our impeccable guard, every breath of air contains dozens of chemicals - which are used to carry memes. Every dozen meters or so, a loudspeaker is secretly placed to transmit audio signals with memes. Pictures influencing humans' subconscious are embedded in every corner of civilians' daily lives. That's it. Their world is wrapped up tightly with our memes. "Since most of the meme carriers we use are chemicals and sounds, what if they mix together? With air pressure, temperature gradient, and other environmental factors, will 'memetic flows' form in a macro way? "[[[scp-3475\|The answer is, yes.]]] It is a sin of the whole SCP Foundation. We created a memetic flow and it is so large. After a long time of mixing and shifting, it covered the whole civilian area like a dome. Ordinary people absorbed so many kinds of widespread memes and adapted to it. But, BUT, for us, the Foundation, it all becomes different. Think about it: as soon as we get to the civilians, we will be brainwashed by countless memes, suffering from intense headaches, vomiting, confusion, you know, and possibly being dead. After we adapt to the environment - if we could survive - the torturing experience will repeat when we return to the Foundation. "The only way to get rid of memetic chaos is using a large dose of amnestics, but is it sufficient enough? If so, then what if excess amnestics permanently blow up the brain of a talented researcher?" Guiders have told you that you all have experienced amnestics upon arrival. Some of you already become wasted. Don't look around! They're not sitting here. They don't deserve it. Anyway, the massive memetic flow is fatal to us. "How many of you remember what your application forms look like?" "Who did? You just say that our memories have been erased." A young man shouted at the back of the meeting room. "Good. You're right. Now let me help you to recall some important stuff." Peyton snapped his fingers. The slides ended and the curtain rose slowly. "'SOCIAL CONTACT' and 'IDENTITY MASKING'. You may notice that under these two entries, there are very few options. The area for answer is too large as if it had just been redacted. Well, it's true. "First, 'SOCIAL CONTACT'. In past surveys you are able to choose 'requesting contacts with civilians' or 'requesting contacts with parents only', but now you can only pick 'full prohibition of any civilian contacts'. Why? Memetic flows. Foundation members and their families are living in two completely different environments. As I said before, it is hard to travel from the Foundation side to the civilian area. Then what about telecommunications? Because of the influence of memes, the same piece of information could convey different - sometimes even harmful - contents to different individuals. Recall 'context', the word I said before. Since civilians have already absorbed too many kinds of memes, they are in different contexts compared to us. It isn't hard to imagine that, a word string could be normal to them, but a lethal curse to us. "Here's an example. Months ago, we had a young employee in our lab. He insisted that he keep in touch with his family. We allowed it. On his birthday, his parents bought him a cake. Its shape and dressing went viral on Tiktok and Facebook at that time: special font for 'Happy birthday'; weird stripes on chocolate coating; candles like old tree trunks. His parents took a photo of the cake and sent it to him. Yes, just bought a cake, decorated it a bit, took a photo, and sent it. Simple, right? But what's the consequence? That photo frightened the hell out of him and he got severe insomnia for a long, long time. We found out that the decoration of the cake carries a meme, and it can trigger creepiness. But for civilians, since they have met too many memes already, that scary effect became just a slight thrill. Ah, that poor employee is doing clerical work in other departments now, no longer with us... " Peyton stopped. He found some listeners opened their mouths. He ignored them, slowly sipped the coffee on the table, and continued. "So, here is a potential danger for any means of communication. We need to block them until we develop a translation tool that can strip harmful memes out of information flows. "Another one, 'IDENTITY MASKING'. Choices like 'front desk employee' awaited you in previous application forms. But now, per previous concerns, you have only two options, 'complete data erasion' and 'fabrication of death certificate'." He paused again as his black glasses - dipped with sweat - were about to drop. Looking around, he began to speak. [[=]] //"From now, there's no turning back for you. Welcome to the pure, cruel world of truths."// [[/=]] Then he let his assistant distribute handbooks for the newcomers. "Here's the manual. Keep it. The topic list is on the final page. You should fill out that list and tear the page. Then, hand it to your supervisor. They will further talk about what you're going to do next, especially your future research topics. Yes, I know amnestics erased your memories. No worries, we did our best to keep most of your necessary knowledge. Also, you are chosen because you are talented and learn things really fast. Be confident. Your thirst for the unknown future is an instinct, engraved in your heart. It won't be extinguished by amnestics for sure... Any questions?" A lad stood up, raising his hand. "Joey? Okay, shoot." Peyton said. "Hello, Mr. Ridley. I just want to ask, um, you just mentioned that our Foundation formed memetic flows because of various memes we spread, right?" "You're right." "Then, is that memetic flow stable? To make it suitable for Foundation needs, how many additional things we should do?" "A lot, Joey, A LOT." Peyton stirred his coffee - well, it was cool already. "Sometimes, memetic agents in an area could react or resonate with each other. With the help of environmental effects, the mix of agents could create new memes; or, previous memes will malfunction. In the past years, the Foundation can create accurate memetic agents. They act exactly as we desired. Now it is different. We should take the memetic and even meteorological environment into consideration when making memes. Even so, some of our attempts become unsuccessful: maybe we created unexpected harmful memes; maybe previously functioning memes misfired. Whatever the outcome was, to solve these problems, we could only invent even more memes to counter the effects. "So I should say, those working in our Memetics Department, and especially those directly taking care of [[[SCP-3475]]], should only be elites like //you//. "You need to work day and night, dealing with medicine, electromagnetic waves, and sounds. You should really immerse yourself in your research. Your heart and soul should be tortured intensely to create memetic medicines that are helpful - but also ephemeral. For those who cannot suffer from the job... the best result for them is A-class amnestics, starting their project all over. In severe cases, their cognitive abilities will be severely impaired, and they will count their final days in confusion and delirium." Joey nodded his head. Peyton looked around. No more questions for him to answer. "Just a couple of minutes. I don't think I keep you guys long. "Hope today will be your last first day for briefing." @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[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>]]	2023-07-18T16:20:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The Countless First Briefing - SCP Foundation	5	[ "scp-3475", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "skies-made-strange-hub" ]	[]	1449073018	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-countless-first-briefing
the-death-of-dr-fern	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Any day can be your last.</p> <p>This is true for regular people living regular lives, but for an employee of The Foundation, regardless of their level, the more accurate phrase would be "any hour can be your last". It didn't matter if you worked at Site-19 or 55, D-Class to Site Director, the life of a Foundation employee was wrought with danger. Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas was blessed enough to be permanently stationed/contained at Site-17, a relatively low danger life. Being the second largest Foundation site, 17 granted Dr. Fern privacy, shelter, and plenty to observe and study. The more larger sister site 19 got more attention, both positive and negative, leaving Site-17 safe to house safer anomalies, and of course a reality-shift proof information Deep Well.</p> <p>That was the intention of Site-17. House low risk humanoid anomalies in a place where they can be safely studied. Interaction be damned. To house hundreds of reality breaking living beings and objects in one location is a disaster waiting to happen. Or, disasters waiting to happen again, and again.</p> <p>Dr. Fern could never shake the feeling that there was something deeper to Site-17 then what official paperwork claimed it to be. He could read the articles stored deep in his brain at any time, but he learned to not trust them all as whole truth. Hell, one claimed that <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/shaggydredlocks-proposal">SCP-001 was the sun</a>, and another tells of the Foundation reaching into the furthest reaches of space in the far flung future <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6372">trying to break open a monolith</a>. The Site-17 Deepwell Catalog called to him to read every slow work day. Could they be real? Corruption existing in what he has only known as a morally gray organization?</p> <p>Klaxons blaring through Site-17's wide halls break his pondering. A breach. Though rare, a containment breach in Site-17 is usually a more minor event. Typically it's just a rebellious humanoid anomaly getting tired of it's cell and wanting to get out again. Gunfire was not a common occurrence during these breaches, but when he heard them, Dr. Fern was on his feet and grabbing his bat. It was the sound of returning gunfire that told Dr. Fern that this was not a containment breach, it was a raid.</p> <p>Moving quickly, he flips his desk and barricades the door. Taking a deep breath and mumbling a low incantation under his breath the frightened doctor enchants the desk to be heavier than it should be.</p> <p>He waiting, standing only a few feet in front of the desk, his grip tight on the wooden baseball bat. He was no soldier, no fighter. He only learned of his magic bloodline a few months ago so he didn't even have any battle mage training. He was a studious nerd in a cell disguised as an office.</p> <p>Explosions rock the ground he stood on, shaking his already loose stance. Past his door he can hear the screaming of his coworkers being mowed down, distinct crunch of large creatures devouring whoever is in their way. And yet, he cowered in his room.</p> <p>That was his options, hide in his self made cage, or go out and die with the rest. Die…with his love. Shit, Holister was somewhere out there, probably fighting alongside whatever MTF happened to be stationed here today and the local security detachment. The only man Fern has ever felt anything for, will probably die out there while he cowered away. Engles might be with them at least, but then that means his only friend is in danger as well.</p> <p>Dr. Fern may be a coward, but he is not selfish, and would gladly, if not fearfully throw himself into danger to help his loved ones.</p> <p>"Ok ok, I can do this." Holding out his bat like an oversized magic wand, and with deep focus, Fern stares at his enchanted desk, "light."</p> <p>The intention was to make the desk light, and easy to move, instead the old oak desk burst, as if impacted by a heavy weight. Dr. Fern stumbles back and quickly regains his composure. Not what he intended, but it worked.</p> <p>He waits for the right time to exit his room, when he can no longer hear voices directly outside it. Slowly, the door opens and he sneaks out into the chaos.</p> <p>He can't quite recognize the armed infiltrators that have attacked his home, but he guessed it was probably the Chaos Insurgency. Though, he saw some hooded figures with green snake symbols on them. A collaboration?</p> <p>Irrelevant, Fern had only one focus on his mind. Get to Holister. He had no idea where he was, or even what he was going to do once he found him, but Fern had a goal. A goal, and now a bullet wound in his left thigh.</p> <p>Stealth was never his strength. Wearing a billowing white lab coat and having glowing eyes under goggles did not help this. What did help was that Fern did not feel much shame, and quickly did his best to attempt to crawl away as his gunman approached to finish the job.</p> <p>Unceremoniously. Meaningless. Minor. The single bullet that burrowed itself into Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas's brain and ending his life was an ordinary bullet, fired by someone who besides their occupation was an ordinary man. A quick, almost embarrassing death. And the end to a story, never read.</p> <p>The Security staff of Site-17, with the help of MTF Epsilon-11 quickly repelled the Chaos Insurgency. And life went on like it normally did. The few anomalies who breached were returned to their containment. Those who assisted in repelling the raid where given thanks and rewarded. Staff mourned those who where lost, only a few knowing Dr. Fern.</p> <p>Any hour can be your last. And any hour can be the last for your memory.</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-death-of-dr-fern">The Death of Dr. Fern</a>" by Fernlom, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-death-of-dr-fern">https://scpwiki.com/the-death-of-dr-fern</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]] [[/>]] Any day can be your last. This is true for regular people living regular lives, but for an employee of The Foundation, regardless of their level, the more accurate phrase would be "any hour can be your last". It didn't matter if you worked at Site-19 or 55, D-Class to Site Director, the life of a Foundation employee was wrought with danger. Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas was blessed enough to be permanently stationed/contained at Site-17, a relatively low danger life. Being the second largest Foundation site, 17 granted Dr. Fern privacy, shelter, and plenty to observe and study. The more larger sister site 19 got more attention, both positive and negative, leaving Site-17 safe to house safer anomalies, and of course a reality-shift proof information Deep Well. That was the intention of Site-17. House low risk humanoid anomalies in a place where they can be safely studied. Interaction be damned. To house hundreds of reality breaking living beings and objects in one location is a disaster waiting to happen. Or, disasters waiting to happen again, and again. Dr. Fern could never shake the feeling that there was something deeper to Site-17 then what official paperwork claimed it to be. He could read the articles stored deep in his brain at any time, but he learned to not trust them all as whole truth. Hell, one claimed that [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/shaggydredlocks-proposal SCP-001 was the sun], and another tells of the Foundation reaching into the furthest reaches of space in the far flung future [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6372 trying to break open a monolith]. The Site-17 Deepwell Catalog called to him to read every slow work day. Could they be real? Corruption existing in what he has only known as a morally gray organization? Klaxons blaring through Site-17's wide halls break his pondering. A breach. Though rare, a containment breach in Site-17 is usually a more minor event. Typically it's just a rebellious humanoid anomaly getting tired of it's cell and wanting to get out again. Gunfire was not a common occurrence during these breaches, but when he heard them, Dr. Fern was on his feet and grabbing his bat. It was the sound of returning gunfire that told Dr. Fern that this was not a containment breach, it was a raid. Moving quickly, he flips his desk and barricades the door. Taking a deep breath and mumbling a low incantation under his breath the frightened doctor enchants the desk to be heavier than it should be. He waiting, standing only a few feet in front of the desk, his grip tight on the wooden baseball bat. He was no soldier, no fighter. He only learned of his magic bloodline a few months ago so he didn't even have any battle mage training. He was a studious nerd in a cell disguised as an office. Explosions rock the ground he stood on, shaking his already loose stance. Past his door he can hear the screaming of his coworkers being mowed down, distinct crunch of large creatures devouring whoever is in their way. And yet, he cowered in his room. That was his options, hide in his self made cage, or go out and die with the rest. Die…with his love. Shit, Holister was somewhere out there, probably fighting alongside whatever MTF happened to be stationed here today and the local security detachment. The only man Fern has ever felt anything for, will probably die out there while he cowered away. Engles might be with them at least, but then that means his only friend is in danger as well. Dr. Fern may be a coward, but he is not selfish, and would gladly, if not fearfully throw himself into danger to help his loved ones. "Ok ok, I can do this." Holding out his bat like an oversized magic wand, and with deep focus, Fern stares at his enchanted desk, "light." The intention was to make the desk light, and easy to move, instead the old oak desk burst, as if impacted by a heavy weight. Dr. Fern stumbles back and quickly regains his composure. Not what he intended, but it worked. He waits for the right time to exit his room, when he can no longer hear voices directly outside it. Slowly, the door opens and he sneaks out into the chaos. He can't quite recognize the armed infiltrators that have attacked his home, but he guessed it was probably the Chaos Insurgency. Though, he saw some hooded figures with green snake symbols on them. A collaboration? Irrelevant, Fern had only one focus on his mind. Get to Holister. He had no idea where he was, or even what he was going to do once he found him, but Fern had a goal. A goal, and now a bullet wound in his left thigh. Stealth was never his strength. Wearing a billowing white lab coat and having glowing eyes under goggles did not help this. What did help was that Fern did not feel much shame, and quickly did his best to attempt to crawl away as his gunman approached to finish the job. Unceremoniously. Meaningless. Minor. The single bullet that burrowed itself into Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas's brain and ending his life was an ordinary bullet, fired by someone who besides their occupation was an ordinary man. A quick, almost embarrassing death. And the end to a story, never read. The Security staff of Site-17, with the help of MTF Epsilon-11 quickly repelled the Chaos Insurgency. And life went on like it normally did. The few anomalies who breached were returned to their containment. Those who assisted in repelling the raid where given thanks and rewarded. Staff mourned those who where lost, only a few knowing Dr. Fern. Any hour can be your last. And any hour can be the last for your memory. [[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>]]	2023-07-06T05:36:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "bleak", "chaos-insurgency", "deepwell-catalog", "tale" ]	The Death of Dr. Fern - SCP Foundation	17	[ "shaggydredlocks-proposal", "scp-6372", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "chaos-insurgency-hub" ]	[]	1448861049	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-death-of-dr-fern
the-death-of-marilla-vega	<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>THE DEATH OF MARILLA VEGA</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;"><img alt="Dr Vikki Lost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8759091&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728674899" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8759091)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;">Dr Vikki Lost</a></span><br/> Critted by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jorgemtzb" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8474687); return false;"><img alt="JorgeMtzb" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8474687&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728674899" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8474687)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jorgemtzb" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8474687); return false;">JorgeMtzb</a></span><br/> MORE BY ME: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-vikki-lost" target="_blank">My Author Page</a></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span><strong>The Death of Marilla Vega</strong></span></h1> </div> <div class="Ngo"> <p><em>Three years ago….</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Marilla Vega stood over her patient, gently moving her thin, pale fingers in a slow, fluttering motion. Estrella, her daughter, stood silent in the corner of the cold laboratory, watching with intent - the man’s eyelids were half-mast, entranced at the gesture. Marilla's nails were black, painted with small starry flecks.</p> <p>Estrella's mind flitted between scientist and witch watching her work - the lab coat with the black dress underneath. The sleek hair pulled to her scalp, with her wild silver eyes.</p> <p>It was the first time in months Estrella had been permitted to join Marilla with her work - Estrella wasn't sure why her invitations were so sporadic. Certainly, patients often raised an eyebrow at the presence of the young, painfully thin blonde standing rigid in the corner. But that was solved quickly with the excuse of internships or the like.</p> <p>Marilla spoke, voice firm yet smooth as liquid silver. “Comets are made from ice, frozen rock. Cold as a storm.” She moved her hand in a circle. “You’re in the Kuiper Belt - light-years away. That’s where you are now. That’s your home.”</p> <p>Estrella had seen Marilla do this before, but it still was… otherworldly. The way her words seemed to fold time and space into itself, to magnet you to the words. It was the only time they’d ever felt impactful. That distance, the sheer vastness of space hit Estrella’s chest, leaving behind a gaping crater of wonder.</p> <p>“Comets move in, traveling across the orbits. Pluto, Neptune, Uranus. Counting down across time,” her eyes carried a haunting gleam.</p> <p>She was not of this world anymore, not when she was like this. “The stars will die. But first will you.”</p> <p>The man sucked in a breath, shuddering as he tried to breathe. A distant, lone smile carved itself into Marilla’s lips. “The heat burns you, doesn’t it? You’re scared of the sun, aren’t you? You hide yourself in the clouds of asteroid belts, but you are not strong enough to stay. You are no longer a rock. You are no longer a complete being. You are only worth the dust in your core.”</p> <p>The man seized twice, head snapping back. Marilla swirled her fingers quickly, leaning closer, as a horrible burning smell shot from his skin. His flesh pulled away in threads, vaporizing into ionized strands of light. Marilla grasped onto one of the three long strands that extended from him, pulling it around her finger. “I am your sun.”</p> <p>Tears streamed down his cheeks, but they barely had time to form before even his eyes were burned away into ash. Deep in his chest, a glowing pulse began to form. The strong beating nucleus of the comet. “You have no more mass. You have no more density. You are the space between. You are a weapon,” she whispered. “This is your punishment.”</p> <p>She touched into his chest, the thick gelatinous coma of flesh and organs, and his breathing fell still, as he was sucked into her orbit. The comet tails of his body struggled to slip away from her, but Marilla persisted, grabbing onto them to hold him down.</p> <p>Plunging her hand into his chest, she grabbed his heart and squeezed. It twitched as she pulled it out, cooling rapidly into a sharp golden orb. Marilla’s molten silver eyes locked onto it, hunger and fascination twin serpents coiling in her own core.</p> <p>The man hovered for a moment longer, then folded into himself, disappearing in a black cloud of stars and devoured light.</p> <p>“Now, that went well,” Marilla commented, after her breathing had cooled. “Not even a solar flare, if you noticed.”</p> <p>Estrella nodded stiffly, her heart thudding against her ribs with a fervor. “R-right.”</p> <p>She wasn't sure how her mother found her patients, or if any of them knew what she did. Her experiments were more about making things work, not how it got there.</p> <p>Marilla smiled then, purposefully, a rare thing with an equally serpentine quality. Her dark, silver-streaked hair was beginning to fray from its tight bun. Estrella had decided, some time long ago, that this was her approximation of motherly approval.</p> <p>“Next time, I’d like you to try.” And then, with a flap of her lab coat and the click tap of dark green heels, she was gone.</p> <p>Estrella followed her from the lab.</p> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h2 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #427580"><strong>Breaking News: NEW ENGLAND SOCIALITE DEAD AT 62, DAUGHTER TO INHERIT MULTI-MILLION TECH EMPIRE</strong></span></span></h2> <p><em>Reported by <span style="color: #ba5f41">Rosa Haroldson</span>, The Boston Globe</em></p> <p>At 8:32 AM, October 12th, 2021, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7218" target="_blank">Lightspeed Incorporated</a> CEO Dr Marilla Vega was found dead in her home. The cause of death has been determined to have been the result of a stroke. Police were first called to the scene after a call was made by Estrella Vega, Marilla’s 23-year-old daughter. Dr Vega’s family company, Lightspeed Incorporated, has been left to Estrella as specified in her will. As of now, Vega’s net worth has been estimated at 16.4 million dollars. No official statement has been issued by the family as of now…</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h1 id="toc2"><span><strong>Estrella</strong></span></h1> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>My Mum just died.</p> <p>We’re going to ignore that. We’re going to skip the part where I find her dead body on the floor, and there’s a rush of emotions and confusion and panicked voices over the phone.</p> <p>We’re going to skip to 2 days later.</p> <p>That’s when the article went out.</p> <p>I adjusted the cream faux-fur coat around my shoulders. White mini-boots, a white skirt and blouse. It wasn’t a mourning outfit, but then again, in “the Vega tech empire”, as the Globe called it, dark colours were only for the adults…</p> <p>… which is me, now that my Mum’s gone.</p> <p>I’m adding that to the long, long list of things that I don’t want to think about.</p> <p>“Ms. Vega?” Thomas, my mother’s <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">boytoy</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">handmaiden</span> personal assistant asked. He was in a dark suit.</p> <p>“Time to see Satan?” I ask, trying to attempt the single-brow-raise that I had not been practising in the mirror.</p> <p>He paused, face blank. “We’re going to drive out to see your financial advisor. Mr. Novak is going to help you sort out the assets your mother left to you.”</p> <p>“That’s what I meant, Tom,” I stood, slinging my purse over my shoulder - Triple Threads Inc, designer like everything else. “Let’s just move fast.”</p> <p>He nodded briskly, and we headed out the large glass doors of the penthouse apartment, into the equally glassy elevators, and down to the main lobby. A small gathering of press - not as large as a celebrity might have, but annoying nonetheless - had gathered at the entrance. Taking a breath and squaring my shoulders, we moved through.</p> <hr/> <p>“So, your mother thankfully left very clear specifications on how she wanted everything to be handled, and her documents were all <em>incredibly</em> well-organised, so on a management front, you shouldn’t have to worry about much- Ms Vega, are you paying attention?”</p> <p>No. No, I was not. “Uh…” I blinked, trying to figure out how to respond. I had no problems with lying to people - it’s one of my charming personality quirks. Keeping a cool and mysterious persona by never having a factually consistent one - though, that could have already been achieved by my lack of stable hobbies as well.</p> <p>But I normally lied for fun. This wasn’t fun. “No. No, I was not.”</p> <p>Thomas took a long breath through his nose, closing his eyes. “Estrella, please. This is important.”</p> <p>“It’s not exactly my fault I can’t focus,” I shrugged. “Look, if you just sent me this in an email I could actually sit and process it.”</p> <p>Thomas and Finances exchanged a look. I didn’t care about Finance’s name, honestly, though I’m sure it’d been mentioned.</p> <p>“Ms Vega, please-”</p> <p>“My Mum just died, like, two days ago goddamnit. Show a little empathy, would it kill you?” I couldn’t tell whether I meant it, or whether I was playing the card for sympathy to get them off my back.</p> <p>Probably the latter.</p> <p>I hadn’t cried since they took away the body.</p> <p>“Right,” Finance’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. Of course, if it really is necessary, we can reschedule this for anothe-”</p> <p>“No,” I snapped. “Just. Let’s get this done.” No use putting it off.</p> <p>So we talked about money.</p> <p>Lightspeed Incorporated - the multi-million tech empire founded by my great-great-Grandfather. Known to the public as developing space tech - which to the news, means we basically are a private-owned NASA. I don't know if this is right. My Mom wasn't big on open and honest communication. Her type was more "twice a month traumatising meetings".</p> <p>I really don’t want anything to do with this.</p> <p>But also: did I ever have a choice?</p> <p>Fuck no.</p> <hr/> <p>Jacqueline Priscilla Vega is my cousin, my best friend, and a complete wreck of a person. Thankfully, I’ll take messy over boring any day.</p> <p>She was standing in the foyer of our house (Well. Mansion.) when I arrived, dressed head to toe in blue plaid, dark hair in a tight bun behind her head. “You’re too late,” she observed, tone flat and subdued as usual. She held a cup of coffee in her hand. “I got bored from being left alone and poured hot sauce into my coffee from your kitchen. This is your fault. So how did the meeting go?”</p> <p>I sighed. “You know you could just… not drink it?”</p> <p>Jackie took a long sip of the coffee, never breaking eye contact, then paused. “I could.”</p> <p>We walked inside, ducking into the games room and settling down at the ping pong table in the centre. Constellations were painted on the dark green walls, making the room into a Slytherin-themed star chart. Jackie hit the ball to me. I slammed it back. We started.</p> <p>“So. How did it go?”</p> <p><em>Ping</em>.</p> <p>“Bad,” I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to figure out what the best angle would be to hit it back.</p> <p><em>Pong</em>.</p> <p>“Were you a bitch to everyone in the room, or did you at least try to play nice?”</p> <p><em>Ping</em>.</p> <p>“There was only one guy,” I smacked it back, and Jackie watched it bounce, and hit the wall to her right, missing her paddle entirely. Picking it up, she wordlessly set up the next serve, while I cheered out the score.</p> <p>“Oh. So you were a bitch to him, I’m guessing.” <em>Smack</em>.</p> <p>“Yep.”</p> <p>Jackie sighed, as she parried, moving stiffly and jerkily, a little like a mannequin. She was built oddly, kind of crammed together. One of her legs was shorter than the other, I knew, and one of her heels was extra-thick to balance it out. It was one of the many quirks that I’d memorised about her.</p> <p>“How’s Tony?” I asked, trying to flip the subject back to her. She raised a single eyebrow - <em>I know what you’re trying to do</em> - but responded anyway.</p> <p>“He stole a motorcycle last night. He said he’d take me out on a ride sometime,” she said, a little wistful. “He’s got a new phone, so we stayed up talking last night. It was great.”</p> <p>Tony was now Jackie’s boyfriend of two years, and proudly called himself a “male gold digger”. Gap-toothed and greasy haired, he was an odious rat of a man, and therefore, the perfect prince charming in Jackie’s eyes. I had decided long ago that it was better to just find it interesting, instead of concerning, like much of the Jackie-isms I’d had to accept.</p> <p>I expected her to continue on a rant detailing their conversation, but instead, she vollied the ball - and the conversation - back to me. “Why not just make this into one of your new projects. The whole money thing.” I missed the ball, in surprise. “What?”</p> <p>“1-1,” Jackie noted softly, waiting patiently for me to re-serve it. I did, then sighed. “I can’t just make myself invest in something. It doesn’t work like that. And you know I’ll get bored after a month anyways, so it doesn’t really matter.”</p> <p>“You could use the month to fake your own death. Set up plans,” she observed. I gave her a look. “Now that’s just ridiculous.”</p> <p>“You’re rich enough to get away with it. Why not.” Despite the string of questions, her voice never raised in tone or pitch, staying a flat murmur.</p> <p>“No,” I shook my head, firmly.</p> <p>“How much longer on the puzzles, you think?”</p> <p>My latest project had been puzzles - so far, I’d finished and framed 32, the first one a simple 500 piece, the latest a 2000 piece monstrosity shaped like the moon, with rounded pieces that were near-impossible to discern from one another. “Probably until I finish the solar system. I did the moon last night, so… I think it’s just Eris and Galatea.”</p> <p>Jackie made an amused noise. “And you say that I’m ridiculous. Maybe now that you’re in charge of LightSpeed, you can get them to run a study on you.”</p> <p>“I’m not going to get an astrophysicist to tell me I have ADHD,” I hit the ball back, knocking the very edge. Jackie barely caught it in time.</p> <p>“My brother has ADHD. He’s relatively normal. You disturb me immensely.” I snorted at her emotionless delivery of the statements.</p> <p>“So I’m an anomaly to you, because I do puzzles?” I asked, smirking.</p> <p>“No. You’re an anomaly to me because you do puzzles to a degree which humans shouldn’t do puzzles.”</p> <p>I looked at her, wincing slightly, and missing the ball again. If only she knew.</p> <p>“2-1,” she stated.</p> <p>One week from today, I was going to have my first appointment. I’d only done it twice before, and neither had gone well - the first time, a sudden total solar eclipse over New England, that nearly got us exposed. The second time, a particularly bad solar flare.</p> <p>And that was with my Mum helping.</p> <p>This was going to be completely flying solo.</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-death-of-marilla-vega">The Death Of Marilla Vega</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-death-of-marilla-vega">https://scpwiki.com/the-death-of-marilla-vega</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>]] THE DEATH OF MARILLA VEGA Author: [[user Dr Vikki Lost]] Critted by [[user JorgeMtzb]] MORE BY ME: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-vikki-lost My Author Page] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[module CSS]] .Ngo { padding: 4px 16px 4px 16px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); width: 75%; margin: auto; margin-bottom: 28px; margin-top: 28px; background: #FBF9F3; border: dashed 0.1rem #5D5D5D; [[/module]] [[=]] + The Death of Marilla Vega* [[/=]] [[div class="Ngo"]] //Three years ago....// @@ @@ Marilla Vega stood over her patient, gently moving her thin, pale fingers in a slow, fluttering motion. Estrella, her daughter, stood silent in the corner of the cold laboratory, watching with intent - the man’s eyelids were half-mast, entranced at the gesture. Marilla's nails were black, painted with small starry flecks. Estrella's mind flitted between scientist and witch watching her work - the lab coat with the black dress underneath. The sleek hair pulled to her scalp, with her wild silver eyes. It was the first time in months Estrella had been permitted to join Marilla with her work - Estrella wasn't sure why her invitations were so sporadic. Certainly, patients often raised an eyebrow at the presence of the young, painfully thin blonde standing rigid in the corner. But that was solved quickly with the excuse of internships or the like. Marilla spoke, voice firm yet smooth as liquid silver. “Comets are made from ice, frozen rock. Cold as a storm.” She moved her hand in a circle. “You’re in the Kuiper Belt - light-years away. That’s where you are now. That’s your home.” Estrella had seen Marilla do this before, but it still was… otherworldly. The way her words seemed to fold time and space into itself, to magnet you to the words. It was the only time they’d ever felt impactful. That distance, the sheer vastness of space hit Estrella’s chest, leaving behind a gaping crater of wonder. “Comets move in, traveling across the orbits. Pluto, Neptune, Uranus. Counting down across time,” her eyes carried a haunting gleam. She was not of this world anymore, not when she was like this. “The stars will die. But first will you.” The man sucked in a breath, shuddering as he tried to breathe. A distant, lone smile carved itself into Marilla’s lips. “The heat burns you, doesn’t it? You’re scared of the sun, aren’t you? You hide yourself in the clouds of asteroid belts, but you are not strong enough to stay. You are no longer a rock. You are no longer a complete being. You are only worth the dust in your core.” The man seized twice, head snapping back. Marilla swirled her fingers quickly, leaning closer, as a horrible burning smell shot from his skin. His flesh pulled away in threads, vaporizing into ionized strands of light. Marilla grasped onto one of the three long strands that extended from him, pulling it around her finger. “I am your sun.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, but they barely had time to form before even his eyes were burned away into ash. Deep in his chest, a glowing pulse began to form. The strong beating nucleus of the comet. “You have no more mass. You have no more density. You are the space between. You are a weapon,” she whispered. “This is your punishment.” She touched into his chest, the thick gelatinous coma of flesh and organs, and his breathing fell still, as he was sucked into her orbit. The comet tails of his body struggled to slip away from her, but Marilla persisted, grabbing onto them to hold him down. Plunging her hand into his chest, she grabbed his heart and squeezed. It twitched as she pulled it out, cooling rapidly into a sharp golden orb. Marilla’s molten silver eyes locked onto it, hunger and fascination twin serpents coiling in her own core. The man hovered for a moment longer, then folded into himself, disappearing in a black cloud of stars and devoured light. “Now, that went well,” Marilla commented, after her breathing had cooled. “Not even a solar flare, if you noticed.” Estrella nodded stiffly, her heart thudding against her ribs with a fervor. “R-right.” She wasn't sure how her mother found her patients, or if any of them knew what she did. Her experiments were more about making things work, not how it got there. Marilla smiled then, purposefully, a rare thing with an equally serpentine quality. Her dark, silver-streaked hair was beginning to fray from its tight bun. Estrella had decided, some time long ago, that this was her approximation of motherly approval. “Next time, I’d like you to try.” And then, with a flap of her lab coat and the click tap of dark green heels, she was gone. Estrella followed her from the lab. [[/div]] ------ @@ @@ @@ @@ ++ ##427580\|Breaking News: NEW ENGLAND SOCIALITE DEAD AT 62, DAUGHTER TO INHERIT MULTI-MILLION TECH EMPIRE## //Reported by ##ba5f41\|Rosa Haroldson##, The Boston Globe// At 8:32 AM, October 12th, 2021, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7218 Lightspeed Incorporated] CEO Dr Marilla Vega was found dead in her home. The cause of death has been determined to have been the result of a stroke. Police were first called to the scene after a call was made by Estrella Vega, Marilla’s 23-year-old daughter. Dr Vega’s family company, Lightspeed Incorporated, has been left to Estrella as specified in her will. As of now, Vega’s net worth has been estimated at 16.4 million dollars. No official statement has been issued by the family as of now... @@ @@ @@ @@ ------ @@ @@ + Estrella* @@ @@ My Mum just died. We’re going to ignore that. We’re going to skip the part where I find her dead body on the floor, and there’s a rush of emotions and confusion and panicked voices over the phone. We’re going to skip to 2 days later. That’s when the article went out. I adjusted the cream faux-fur coat around my shoulders. White mini-boots, a white skirt and blouse. It wasn’t a mourning outfit, but then again, in “the Vega tech empire”, as the Globe called it, dark colours were only for the adults… … which is me, now that my Mum’s gone. I’m adding that to the long, long list of things that I don’t want to think about. “Ms. Vega?” Thomas, my mother’s --boytoy-- --handmaiden-- personal assistant asked. He was in a dark suit. “Time to see Satan?” I ask, trying to attempt the single-brow-raise that I had not been practising in the mirror. He paused, face blank. “We’re going to drive out to see your financial advisor. Mr. Novak is going to help you sort out the assets your mother left to you.” “That’s what I meant, Tom,” I stood, slinging my purse over my shoulder - Triple Threads Inc, designer like everything else. “Let’s just move fast.” He nodded briskly, and we headed out the large glass doors of the penthouse apartment, into the equally glassy elevators, and down to the main lobby. A small gathering of press - not as large as a celebrity might have, but annoying nonetheless - had gathered at the entrance. Taking a breath and squaring my shoulders, we moved through. ------ “So, your mother thankfully left very clear specifications on how she wanted everything to be handled, and her documents were all //incredibly// well-organised, so on a management front, you shouldn’t have to worry about much- Ms Vega, are you paying attention?” No. No, I was not. “Uh…” I blinked, trying to figure out how to respond. I had no problems with lying to people - it’s one of my charming personality quirks. Keeping a cool and mysterious persona by never having a factually consistent one - though, that could have already been achieved by my lack of stable hobbies as well. But I normally lied for fun. This wasn’t fun. “No. No, I was not.” Thomas took a long breath through his nose, closing his eyes. “Estrella, please. This is important.” “It’s not exactly my fault I can’t focus,” I shrugged. “Look, if you just sent me this in an email I could actually sit and process it.” Thomas and Finances exchanged a look. I didn’t care about Finance’s name, honestly, though I’m sure it’d been mentioned. “Ms Vega, please-” “My Mum just died, like, two days ago goddamnit. Show a little empathy, would it kill you?” I couldn’t tell whether I meant it, or whether I was playing the card for sympathy to get them off my back. Probably the latter. I hadn’t cried since they took away the body. “Right,” Finance’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. Of course, if it really is necessary, we can reschedule this for anothe-” “No,” I snapped. “Just. Let’s get this done.” No use putting it off. So we talked about money. Lightspeed Incorporated - the multi-million tech empire founded by my great-great-Grandfather. Known to the public as developing space tech - which to the news, means we basically are a private-owned NASA. I don't know if this is right. My Mom wasn't big on open and honest communication. Her type was more "twice a month traumatising meetings". I really don’t want anything to do with this. But also: did I ever have a choice? Fuck no. ------ Jacqueline Priscilla Vega is my cousin, my best friend, and a complete wreck of a person. Thankfully, I’ll take messy over boring any day. She was standing in the foyer of our house (Well. Mansion.) when I arrived, dressed head to toe in blue plaid, dark hair in a tight bun behind her head. “You’re too late,” she observed, tone flat and subdued as usual. She held a cup of coffee in her hand. “I got bored from being left alone and poured hot sauce into my coffee from your kitchen. This is your fault. So how did the meeting go?” I sighed. “You know you could just… not drink it?” Jackie took a long sip of the coffee, never breaking eye contact, then paused. “I could.” We walked inside, ducking into the games room and settling down at the ping pong table in the centre. Constellations were painted on the dark green walls, making the room into a Slytherin-themed star chart. Jackie hit the ball to me. I slammed it back. We started. “So. How did it go?” //Ping//. “Bad,” I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to figure out what the best angle would be to hit it back. //Pong//. “Were you a bitch to everyone in the room, or did you at least try to play nice?” //Ping//. “There was only one guy,” I smacked it back, and Jackie watched it bounce, and hit the wall to her right, missing her paddle entirely. Picking it up, she wordlessly set up the next serve, while I cheered out the score. “Oh. So you were a bitch to him, I’m guessing.” //Smack//. “Yep.” Jackie sighed, as she parried, moving stiffly and jerkily, a little like a mannequin. She was built oddly, kind of crammed together. One of her legs was shorter than the other, I knew, and one of her heels was extra-thick to balance it out. It was one of the many quirks that I’d memorised about her. “How’s Tony?” I asked, trying to flip the subject back to her. She raised a single eyebrow - //I know what you’re trying to do// - but responded anyway. “He stole a motorcycle last night. He said he’d take me out on a ride sometime,” she said, a little wistful. “He’s got a new phone, so we stayed up talking last night. It was great.” Tony was now Jackie’s boyfriend of two years, and proudly called himself a “male gold digger”. Gap-toothed and greasy haired, he was an odious rat of a man, and therefore, the perfect prince charming in Jackie’s eyes. I had decided long ago that it was better to just find it interesting, instead of concerning, like much of the Jackie-isms I’d had to accept. I expected her to continue on a rant detailing their conversation, but instead, she vollied the ball - and the conversation - back to me. “Why not just make this into one of your new projects. The whole money thing.” I missed the ball, in surprise. “What?” “1-1,” Jackie noted softly, waiting patiently for me to re-serve it. I did, then sighed. “I can’t just make myself invest in something. It doesn’t work like that. And you know I’ll get bored after a month anyways, so it doesn’t really matter.” “You could use the month to fake your own death. Set up plans,” she observed. I gave her a look. “Now that’s just ridiculous.” “You’re rich enough to get away with it. Why not.” Despite the string of questions, her voice never raised in tone or pitch, staying a flat murmur. “No,” I shook my head, firmly. “How much longer on the puzzles, you think?” My latest project had been puzzles - so far, I’d finished and framed 32, the first one a simple 500 piece, the latest a 2000 piece monstrosity shaped like the moon, with rounded pieces that were near-impossible to discern from one another. “Probably until I finish the solar system. I did the moon last night, so… I think it’s just Eris and Galatea.” Jackie made an amused noise. “And you say that I’m ridiculous. Maybe now that you’re in charge of LightSpeed, you can get them to run a study on you.” “I’m not going to get an astrophysicist to tell me I have ADHD,” I hit the ball back, knocking the very edge. Jackie barely caught it in time. “My brother has ADHD. He’s relatively normal. You disturb me immensely.” I snorted at her emotionless delivery of the statements. “So I’m an anomaly to you, because I do puzzles?” I asked, smirking. “No. You’re an anomaly to me because you do puzzles to a degree which humans shouldn’t do puzzles.” I looked at her, wincing slightly, and missing the ball again. If only she knew. “2-1,” she stated. One week from today, I was going to have my first appointment. I’d only done it twice before, and neither had gone well - the first time, a sudden total solar eclipse over New England, that nearly got us exposed. The second time, a particularly bad solar flare. And that was with my Mum helping. This was going to be completely flying solo. [[footnoteblock]] [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[/div]] [[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>]]	2023-11-10T15:21:00	[ "_licensebox", "first-person", "surrealism", "tale", "the-twin-sites" ]	The Death Of Marilla Vega - SCP Foundation	3	[ "dr-vikki-lost", "scp-7218", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "twin-sites-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451363028	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-death-of-marilla-vega
the-devil-s-right-hand-man	<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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Ablack-market/1&css={$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"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage">More by this author</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>Robert Carter is a player — and today, he's gambling for the only thing he could not possibly need more of: money.</p> <p>"You fucking—" the first man says, his face finally free of the bag that's been holding it back for the last four hours. Carter shoots him without a second's hesitation. He cannot stand rudeness.</p> <p>"What do you <em>think</em>—" the second one starts, his eyes turning wide the second he realizes what fate has just befallen his colleague. Horrified, he locks eyes with Carter. "You," he mouths, his terror turning into rage. He spits on the floor. "You will—"</p> <p>Carter shoots him too, already turning his weapon to aim at the third member of the Lighthouse Mafia, bound before him in a dark, wet storehouse somewhere deep within Three Portlands. Amused, he turns his sight toward him too, and raises an eyebrow. "Try again?"</p> <p>Carter doesn't need any words to see the third man won't try the same tricks his two late partners have; the man knows that if he just takes the wrong step, him and his Mafia will be nothing but a memory one moment after Carter pulls his trigger. He might be a member of the single most ruthless criminal organization within Three Ports, but tonight, he's little more than a man who's just pissed his pants. More importantly, tonight he's also what he's never realized he's always been: he's Carter's bitch.</p> <p>"Well, Mr. Harvey?" Carter crosses his arms, impatiently staring down at the frozen mafioso. "Have you found more reason than your friends, or would you like to meet them?"</p> <p>Harvey swallows hard, and almost vomits from the pain that makes him feel. "C-Carter," he utters out, his bruised and broken face moving, but only barely. "I have no idea what—"</p> <p>"<em>Tsch</em>," Carter scoffs, and squats before Harvey. Almost instinctively, the mafioso twitches back before the man in the immaculately groomed suit and his weapon. This time, the steel-tight grip of Carter's goons doesn't restrict his movements — were he not in such a state of panic, he maybe would have even noticed that this was because they let him.</p> <p>Carter continues, "You know exactly what I mean." He taps the place where Harvey's ear was just ten hours ago. "But just in case my friends made it difficult for you to hear, I will repeat myself one last time:" Carter lowers himself even closer, his voice becoming colder than ice. "Where is my fucking tribute, Harvey?"</p> <p>If his throat weren't this dry, Harvey would have already swallowed again. He looks down at his two fallen comrades, his two personal second-in-commands — two people he thought to be the absolute tops of the Three Portlands criminal food chain. He looks at his own hands, still tied before him in thorned manacles that dig ever so deeper into his broken skin. And he looks at Carter, who just squats there in that disgustingly stylish suit, his posture almost a monument to calmness.</p> <p>"I…"</p> <p>"You? You what? What did you think you were doing here exactly, buddy?"</p> <p>"Carter, please—"</p> <p>"Hm? You get big because of my money, and then think you can stab daddy in the back? Rule the whole city all by yourself? Have the whole world under your feet? Well, Harvey," he says, putting special emphasis on the last word. "Here's a piece of advice from daddy Robert:" His voice is barely more than a whisper now. "Never again forget who owns you."</p> <p>Carter points his gun at Harvey. He closes his eyes.</p> <p>When the shot is fired, Harvey's shocked to see he's still breathing; he's even more shocked to see that his manacles have been blown to bits. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he is a free man.</p> <p>"Now," Carter says, throwing Harvey a piece of dirty, old fabric he presumes he should cover his naked, broken body with. He points first at the shivering mafioso, then at the exit from the warehouse, the shy morning light ever so vaguely peeping through the doors. "Get out of my sight and get me my fucking money, Harvey. <em>Pronto</em>."</p> <p>Harvey covers himself with the blanket, and nods, the movement almost identical to twitching.</p> <p>"Because next time, you might not catch me in this good of a mood."</p> <hr/> <p>Robert Carter is a player — and today, he's gambling with the only party he could not possibly lose to: the law.</p> <p>"Mr. Carter," the Yeren bioengineer says, correcting her glasses. "Everything is finished. I've personally seen to it." Her posture might be that of a scientist, but the angst present behind those orderly lenses does not escape Carter for even a second.</p> <p>"Excellent," he says, putting his hands together. There is really no meaning behind the gesture, but the engineer does not know this; the only thing she sees is the image of a composed and strong leader. Carter resists the urge to smile.</p> <p>Steadily and calmly, Carter turns around to eye every corner of the underground complex him and his people have just finished putting together. It's a marvel of paratechnology and bioengineering. There's no room for error here, no possibility of any of the precious materials harnessed in the farms lost: it's as close to perfection as Iris was ever going to get. But then again, after <a href="/uiu-file-2014-158">how terribly their last clown milk farm has turned out</a>, Carter figures Iris would pretty much take anything that wasn't a total disaster. Not like he would ever want to risk it — his work must be nothing if not perfect. Both because he'd rather not deal again with the escaped lot of Fuller, and because he'd rather not deal again with Iris.</p> <p>"Now, not that it's any of my business," the Yeren suddenly interrupts his train of thought, once again correcting her glasses. "But, ah, Mr. Carter, if I may…"</p> <p>He raises his eyebrow. "Yes?"</p> <p>She swallows. "Right. I… I just wanted to say… is it really wise for… for this operation to run here, in Eurtec? Again, you know me, I'm sure the business will go great, but in Three Ports, we could easily control the City Council. And here… what if the Coalition—"</p> <p>Carter's eyes narrow dangerously. "The Coalition can blow me, Ms. Har'grynn." She blinks twice, almost recoiling from shock. "They are nothing, here within their own city. They never were. They've no authority on these streets. They're a <em>joke</em>." He turns to face their farm again, as if showing the various tubes and harvest apparatus, already awaiting the clowns that will populate them soon. "This is what rules Eurtec, Ms. Har'grynn. Not guns, not Fivefold Missions, not that old fart al Fine, not the Nornir: <em>money</em>. And we've got more than enough money to spare."</p> <p>She might've designed the immaculate system before them, but she's still unconvinced. "But if the Coalition was to—"</p> <p>"Well, what <em>if</em> the Coalition did find out about our operation, here? What do you think would happen? They would surely not like it, from their ivory towers and high horses. They would come in, guns blazing, and raze the whole thing to the ground, even the poor things we use to get our product." For emphasis, he raps on the tubes with his knuckles. "Who knows, maybe they would even wage war against the Company itself. After all, to breach their Charter deep within Coalition-controlled territory would be paramount to betraying peace."</p> <p>He pauses. "But here's the thing, Ms. Har'grynn: 'if' is a big word. A very, <em>very</em> big word. For example:" He turns to face her again. "If right now, I looked at my men and said, 'Please put a bullet through Ms. Har'grynn's head for insubordination', they would do so without even blinking. But I won't. And they also won't." He pauses again. "See how much a potential 'if' changes in terms of reality, Ms. Har'grynn?" He smiles. The engineer is dead-still.</p> <p>Still, Carter continues, "Like I said, a big word. A very, very, <em>very</em> big word. Good thing for us, then, that it exists firmly within the realm of fiction, and not reality." He eyes the various guards stationed around the farm and the cameras above them, linked to myriad hidden security systems that monitor their every move. "Even better then that if someone tried to change that, if someone tried to move our good friend If from fiction to reality, well… we've got just the systems and people to ensure it stays right where its fucking place is."</p> <p>He locks eyes with her, his posture unreadable, his smile almost a parody of the gesture. "Now, now that we've got everything cleared up, there's just one thing left to do."</p> <p>She suddenly clears her throat. She's very good at keeping composure, but not nearly good enough for Carter to not notice what fear lurks behind those dark, dark eyes. She utters out, "What-What one thing?"</p> <p>He smiles a warm smile, putting his hands together again. "Telling our good friend Iris that everything is up and running." He pats her on the back. "I'm sure she will be more than happy to hear our operation is ready for the first harvest within the week."</p> <hr/> <p>Robert Carter is a player — and today, he's gambling with the only party whose respect actually matters, at least for tonight: Foundation Overseer Five.</p> <p>"Ah, Madame Overseer!" he says nonchalantly, smiling a roguish smile. "How great it is to finally have a chance at meeting you."</p> <p>The diminutive woman raises an eyebrow, and crosses her legs. "Mr. Carter," the Firestarter carefully begins, as if treading unknown territory. Carter knows that she too is a player, but she isn't used to seeing <a href="/scp-5579">anybody else than Iris on the other side of her chessboard</a>. "I… I was not expecting you, here."</p> <p>His smile widens. "Yes, yes, I'd like to apologize for this, ah, last-minute change. Our mutual friend Iris is… well, busy, let's say. She sent me here instead to act in her stead, if that does not complicate things too much. I hope that will not be an issue?" He takes his seat next to the Overseer, and also crosses his legs. Five's frown is almost unnoticeable. Almost.</p> <p>"No, I do not believe it will be one," Five says, locking eyes with Carter, trying to read him. The fire that dances inside those brown irises is almost hot enough to rival the reds of her dress. Despite this, it's a playful fire, an amused one — it's very clear that though Five is suspicious at seeing Carter on the other side of the table, she does not consider him a real threat. Just like he intended. "Now," she says, correcting her posture and reaching for the documents on the table next to them. "Shall we begin?"</p> <p>He nods, and reaches for his own papers.</p> <p>What follows is a game, as the material exchanges between those two parties have always been — and Carter and Five are nothing if not born players. They have been in this dance before, many times and on many fronts, but the spark of excitement that makes itself manifest without the souls of both of them still burns ever so brightly.</p> <p>For hours on end, they move their pieces and make their demands — five kilograms here, seven units there. They often retort, "That's more than enough!" and "Less, or the deal is off!", but in the end both know there is no universe in which the deal would actually ever be off. Not only because this exchange of information and materials is of great benefit to both parties, but because both the Firestarter and the Merchant <em>enjoy</em> this. She is not a bureaucrat, and neither is he — they are both stone-cold warriors, on fronts both thaumic and financial, and this! This finally makes them feel like they are truly alive.</p> <p>So they play their little game, and enjoy every moment of it.</p> <p>When all's said and done, Five just takes a sip of her wine. She does not usually do this. "I… You know, Mr. Carter, there is something I've always been wondering."</p> <p>He raises an eyebrow. "And what might that be, Miss Overseer?" He knows that Iris is not one to easily give any answers, so what the Firestarter is about to say might just be very interesting.</p> <p>She looks him dead in the eyes. "Why do you even bother?"</p> <p>He blinks. "Pardon?"</p> <p>"You are an heir to the single most wealthy family in the history of mankind. You have more money than there are sentient beings on this planet." She pauses for a moment. "If you wanted to, you could retire right now and do nothing for the remaining two hundred years your immortality still has you left with — and even then, you could still live like a god." She crosses her arms. He does not do the same. He does not want to show that he is shocked at her knowing about the specifications of his lifespan. "Us and the Coalition at least have some final goal, something ultimate to strive for — but you and your Company don't. There's only ever so much money you could possibly need. So why? What's the point of this whole exercise in futility?"</p> <p>Carter can feel a deep chuckle forming itself within his guts. "Ah, Madame Overseer," he lets it all out, laughing a polite little laugh. "There seems to have been a misunderstanding. We are not in this business for money."</p> <p>She raises her little eyebrow.</p> <p>"It's not about the dollar. It's about the thrill. It's about the power." She lets him smile, and he continues, "You're right, there is no reason we would ever need this much money — that would be ridiculous. So we aren't after that. Money can only get you so far, but power — power! That's something to strive for. When you can buy out whole nations, it is not about the number you can give to have them: it's about the sheer fact that you <em>can</em>. It's about the realization that if you wanted, you <em>could</em> <a href="/scp-pl-273">collapse that empire</a> and <a href="/the-crocosquid">buy that god</a>. Not because you need to, but because you <em>can</em>. <em>That</em> is what we want."</p> <p>"But… Why? What's the point of <em>that</em>?" She squints her eyes, trying to see whether or not Carter is lying. He can see she knows he isn't; her confusion only widens. "What possible use could you have for all that control, if you do not actually do anything with it?"</p> <p>"Because, Madame Overseer—" He smirks. "—there is nothing in this world sweeter than the realization that if you wanted to, you could own it."</p> <hr/> <p>Carter's facade falls down the second he crosses the doors to his apartment.</p> <p>His breathing quickens, as does his blood pressure; for a split second, he is no longer the calm and collected businessman; for just a split second, he is the prey, finally happy to be safe within his quiet nest.</p> <p>He takes a deep breath.</p> <p>With an unsteady pace, he walks towards his kitchen, its darkened windows revealing the hellish landscape all around his little Obelisk; with shaking hands, he reaches for a bottle of whiskey, and pours himself a glass, avoiding spilling it, but only barely; and with a head full of terrible thoughts, he drinks it all up, feeling the alcohol burn his throat.</p> <p>He swallows the liquid, and puts down the glass.</p> <p>He stares at his hands.</p> <p>They do not stop shaking.</p> <p>He swallows again, this time out of pure reflex, and looks around the cold and dark room that now stands before him. He knows it is empty — if anyone else but him were to attempt to enter, they would most certainly not live to tell the tale — but still, he eyes the place suspiciously. Like a child looking at their clothes at night, expecting some monster to take their place, he too scans every surface of the place he calls home, searching for his own personal monster, one far more real than any kid could ever think up.</p> <p>But Iris Dark is not there.</p> <p>When he is certain beyond words that he is alone, only then does he finally take a breath. He looks at his hands again. They are now still, just like the cold blackstone that entombs Carter whole.</p> <p>He exhales, and sits down. He puts his head in his hands.</p> <p>For a few minutes, he is silent. He just sits there, unmoving, praying to an absent god, willing to promise everything so that Iris thinks he did well today.</p> <p>After a while, his breathing calms down. He once again looks beyond the windows of his apartment, and stares deeply into the burning wasteland of the Fourth Ring before him.</p> <p><em>Tsch</em>. The Devil's Right-Hand Man. What a sick joke. He does not know how he got that title, really, even all those years later; he might serve under the devil — or, rather, a devil, he supposes — but he's not her right hand. She would rather chop it off than allow someone as sloppy and unprofessional as Carter to be her limb.</p> <p>He swallows again.</p> <p>In truth, Carter hates his little moniker. Not because it paints him as a ruthless monster — that much he greatly enjoys — but because it implies that he is somehow beyond the hierarchy the rest of the world suffers under. That he somehow escaped, and serves its unholy master as someone almost like an equal.</p> <p>He lets out a silent whimper.</p> <p><em>Dad</em>. He thinks of his father again, in all of his ruthlessness and coldness. That's what he thought about him, when he was younger — he thought him a distant figure that was never there. He hated him for it, more than anything else in the world. But now… now that he was truly and utterly gone, really to never be there again, Carter… Carter almost misses him. Or, at the very least, he misses the fact he had a choice, when it came to what he thought about his father. Now, all those years later, <a href="/money-game">when Iris took him by force to take the throne for herself</a>… well. He's very little more than a slave to his circumstances.</p> <p>Somewhere deep inside, Carter fears that he loved his father.</p> <p>Somewhere even deeper, he fears that soon he might even see him again.</p> <p>He shakes his head, and leans back in his chair.</p> <p>That's what's the worst thing about his situation, he thinks. That, for all of his money and prestige, he is still little more than a prisoner in a golden cage and with a Dark master. The people think of him as someone like her — after all, the Company name mentions his surname as that of an equal. And yet, he is not a senior partner, no matter what the people like to say. And say they do: he's heard it all. He's heard what they call him.</p> <p>And yet, despite all of their words, every title they give him is just wrong.</p> <p>Well, not <em>all of them</em>. They got one thing right: Robert Carter is a player, that much is sure — and ever since his bosses have changed, he has been doing only one thing: playing one big gamble.</p> <p>A gamble over his own life.</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-devil-s-right-hand-man">The Devil's Right-Hand Man</a>" by Ralliston, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-devil-s-right-hand-man">https://scpwiki.com/the-devil-s-right-hand-man</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:black-market">:scp-wiki:theme:black-market</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage More by this author] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] Robert Carter is a player -- and today, he's gambling for the only thing he could not possibly need more of: money. "You fucking--" the first man says, his face finally free of the bag that's been holding it back for the last four hours. Carter shoots him without a second's hesitation. He cannot stand rudeness. "What do you //think//—" the second one starts, his eyes turning wide the second he realizes what fate has just befallen his colleague. Horrified, he locks eyes with Carter. "You," he mouths, his terror turning into rage. He spits on the floor. "You will--" Carter shoots him too, already turning his weapon to aim at the third member of the Lighthouse Mafia, bound before him in a dark, wet storehouse somewhere deep within Three Portlands. Amused, he turns his sight toward him too, and raises an eyebrow. "Try again?" Carter doesn't need any words to see the third man won't try the same tricks his two late partners have; the man knows that if he just takes the wrong step, him and his Mafia will be nothing but a memory one moment after Carter pulls his trigger. He might be a member of the single most ruthless criminal organization within Three Ports, but tonight, he's little more than a man who's just pissed his pants. More importantly, tonight he's also what he's never realized he's always been: he's Carter's bitch. "Well, Mr. Harvey?" Carter crosses his arms, impatiently staring down at the frozen mafioso. "Have you found more reason than your friends, or would you like to meet them?" Harvey swallows hard, and almost vomits from the pain that makes him feel. "C-Carter," he utters out, his bruised and broken face moving, but only barely. "I have no idea what--" "//Tsch//," Carter scoffs, and squats before Harvey. Almost instinctively, the mafioso twitches back before the man in the immaculately groomed suit and his weapon. This time, the steel-tight grip of Carter's goons doesn't restrict his movements -- were he not in such a state of panic, he maybe would have even noticed that this was because they let him. Carter continues, "You know exactly what I mean." He taps the place where Harvey's ear was just ten hours ago. "But just in case my friends made it difficult for you to hear, I will repeat myself one last time:" Carter lowers himself even closer, his voice becoming colder than ice. "Where is my fucking tribute, Harvey?" If his throat weren't this dry, Harvey would have already swallowed again. He looks down at his two fallen comrades, his two personal second-in-commands -- two people he thought to be the absolute tops of the Three Portlands criminal food chain. He looks at his own hands, still tied before him in thorned manacles that dig ever so deeper into his broken skin. And he looks at Carter, who just squats there in that disgustingly stylish suit, his posture almost a monument to calmness. "I..." "You? You what? What did you think you were doing here exactly, buddy?" "Carter, please--" "Hm? You get big because of my money, and then think you can stab daddy in the back? Rule the whole city all by yourself? Have the whole world under your feet? Well, Harvey," he says, putting special emphasis on the last word. "Here's a piece of advice from daddy Robert:" His voice is barely more than a whisper now. "Never again forget who owns you." Carter points his gun at Harvey. He closes his eyes. When the shot is fired, Harvey's shocked to see he's still breathing; he's even more shocked to see that his manacles have been blown to bits. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he is a free man. "Now," Carter says, throwing Harvey a piece of dirty, old fabric he presumes he should cover his naked, broken body with. He points first at the shivering mafioso, then at the exit from the warehouse, the shy morning light ever so vaguely peeping through the doors. "Get out of my sight and get me my fucking money, Harvey. //Pronto//." Harvey covers himself with the blanket, and nods, the movement almost identical to twitching. "Because next time, you might not catch me in this good of a mood." ----- Robert Carter is a player -- and today, he's gambling with the only party he could not possibly lose to: the law. "Mr. Carter," the Yeren bioengineer says, correcting her glasses. "Everything is finished. I've personally seen to it." Her posture might be that of a scientist, but the angst present behind those orderly lenses does not escape Carter for even a second. "Excellent," he says, putting his hands together. There is really no meaning behind the gesture, but the engineer does not know this; the only thing she sees is the image of a composed and strong leader. Carter resists the urge to smile. Steadily and calmly, Carter turns around to eye every corner of the underground complex him and his people have just finished putting together. It's a marvel of paratechnology and bioengineering. There's no room for error here, no possibility of any of the precious materials harnessed in the farms lost: it's as close to perfection as Iris was ever going to get. But then again, after [[[uiu-file-2014-158\|how terribly their last clown milk farm has turned out]]], Carter figures Iris would pretty much take anything that wasn't a total disaster. Not like he would ever want to risk it -- his work must be nothing if not perfect. Both because he'd rather not deal again with the escaped lot of Fuller, and because he'd rather not deal again with Iris. "Now, not that it's any of my business," the Yeren suddenly interrupts his train of thought, once again correcting her glasses. "But, ah, Mr. Carter, if I may..." He raises his eyebrow. "Yes?" She swallows. "Right. I... I just wanted to say... is it really wise for... for this operation to run here, in Eurtec? Again, you know me, I'm sure the business will go great, but in Three Ports, we could easily control the City Council. And here... what if the Coalition--" Carter's eyes narrow dangerously. "The Coalition can blow me, Ms. Har'grynn." She blinks twice, almost recoiling from shock. "They are nothing, here within their own city. They never were. They've no authority on these streets. They're a //joke//." He turns to face their farm again, as if showing the various tubes and harvest apparatus, already awaiting the clowns that will populate them soon. "This is what rules Eurtec, Ms. Har'grynn. Not guns, not Fivefold Missions, not that old fart al Fine, not the Nornir: //money//. And we've got more than enough money to spare." She might've designed the immaculate system before them, but she's still unconvinced. "But if the Coalition was to--" "Well, what //if// the Coalition did find out about our operation, here? What do you think would happen? They would surely not like it, from their ivory towers and high horses. They would come in, guns blazing, and raze the whole thing to the ground, even the poor things we use to get our product." For emphasis, he raps on the tubes with his knuckles. "Who knows, maybe they would even wage war against the Company itself. After all, to breach their Charter deep within Coalition-controlled territory would be paramount to betraying peace." He pauses. "But here's the thing, Ms. Har'grynn: 'if' is a big word. A very, //very// big word. For example:" He turns to face her again. "If right now, I looked at my men and said, 'Please put a bullet through Ms. Har'grynn's head for insubordination', they would do so without even blinking. But I won't. And they also won't." He pauses again. "See how much a potential 'if' changes in terms of reality, Ms. Har'grynn?" He smiles. The engineer is dead-still. Still, Carter continues, "Like I said, a big word. A very, very, //very// big word. Good thing for us, then, that it exists firmly within the realm of fiction, and not reality." He eyes the various guards stationed around the farm and the cameras above them, linked to myriad hidden security systems that monitor their every move. "Even better then that if someone tried to change that, if someone tried to move our good friend If from fiction to reality, well... we've got just the systems and people to ensure it stays right where its fucking place is." He locks eyes with her, his posture unreadable, his smile almost a parody of the gesture. "Now, now that we've got everything cleared up, there's just one thing left to do." She suddenly clears her throat. She's very good at keeping composure, but not nearly good enough for Carter to not notice what fear lurks behind those dark, dark eyes. She utters out, "What-What one thing?" He smiles a warm smile, putting his hands together again. "Telling our good friend Iris that everything is up and running." He pats her on the back. "I'm sure she will be more than happy to hear our operation is ready for the first harvest within the week." ----- Robert Carter is a player -- and today, he's gambling with the only party whose respect actually matters, at least for tonight: Foundation Overseer Five. "Ah, Madame Overseer!" he says nonchalantly, smiling a roguish smile. "How great it is to finally have a chance at meeting you." The diminutive woman raises an eyebrow, and crosses her legs. "Mr. Carter," the Firestarter carefully begins, as if treading unknown territory. Carter knows that she too is a player, but she isn't used to seeing [[[scp-5579\|anybody else than Iris on the other side of her chessboard]]]. "I... I was not expecting you, here." His smile widens. "Yes, yes, I'd like to apologize for this, ah, last-minute change. Our mutual friend Iris is... well, busy, let's say. She sent me here instead to act in her stead, if that does not complicate things too much. I hope that will not be an issue?" He takes his seat next to the Overseer, and also crosses his legs. Five's frown is almost unnoticeable. Almost. "No, I do not believe it will be one," Five says, locking eyes with Carter, trying to read him. The fire that dances inside those brown irises is almost hot enough to rival the reds of her dress. Despite this, it's a playful fire, an amused one -- it's very clear that though Five is suspicious at seeing Carter on the other side of the table, she does not consider him a real threat. Just like he intended. "Now," she says, correcting her posture and reaching for the documents on the table next to them. "Shall we begin?" He nods, and reaches for his own papers. What follows is a game, as the material exchanges between those two parties have always been -- and Carter and Five are nothing if not born players. They have been in this dance before, many times and on many fronts, but the spark of excitement that makes itself manifest without the souls of both of them still burns ever so brightly. For hours on end, they move their pieces and make their demands -- five kilograms here, seven units there. They often retort, "That's more than enough!" and "Less, or the deal is off!", but in the end both know there is no universe in which the deal would actually ever be off. Not only because this exchange of information and materials is of great benefit to both parties, but because both the Firestarter and the Merchant //enjoy// this. She is not a bureaucrat, and neither is he -- they are both stone-cold warriors, on fronts both thaumic and financial, and this! This finally makes them feel like they are truly alive. So they play their little game, and enjoy every moment of it. When all's said and done, Five just takes a sip of her wine. She does not usually do this. "I... You know, Mr. Carter, there is something I've always been wondering." He raises an eyebrow. "And what might that be, Miss Overseer?" He knows that Iris is not one to easily give any answers, so what the Firestarter is about to say might just be very interesting. She looks him dead in the eyes. "Why do you even bother?" He blinks. "Pardon?" "You are an heir to the single most wealthy family in the history of mankind. You have more money than there are sentient beings on this planet." She pauses for a moment. "If you wanted to, you could retire right now and do nothing for the remaining two hundred years your immortality still has you left with -- and even then, you could still live like a god." She crosses her arms. He does not do the same. He does not want to show that he is shocked at her knowing about the specifications of his lifespan. "Us and the Coalition at least have some final goal, something ultimate to strive for -- but you and your Company don't. There's only ever so much money you could possibly need. So why? What's the point of this whole exercise in futility?" Carter can feel a deep chuckle forming itself within his guts. "Ah, Madame Overseer," he lets it all out, laughing a polite little laugh. "There seems to have been a misunderstanding. We are not in this business for money." She raises her little eyebrow. "It's not about the dollar. It's about the thrill. It's about the power." She lets him smile, and he continues, "You're right, there is no reason we would ever need this much money -- that would be ridiculous. So we aren't after that. Money can only get you so far, but power -- power! That's something to strive for. When you can buy out whole nations, it is not about the number you can give to have them: it's about the sheer fact that you //can//. It's about the realization that if you wanted, you //could// [[[scp-pl-273\|collapse that empire]]] and [[[the-crocosquid\|buy that god]]]. Not because you need to, but because you //can//. //That// is what we want." "But... Why? What's the point of //that//?" She squints her eyes, trying to see whether or not Carter is lying. He can see she knows he isn't; her confusion only widens. "What possible use could you have for all that control, if you do not actually do anything with it?" "Because, Madame Overseer—" He smirks. "—there is nothing in this world sweeter than the realization that if you wanted to, you could own it." ----- Carter's facade falls down the second he crosses the doors to his apartment. His breathing quickens, as does his blood pressure; for a split second, he is no longer the calm and collected businessman; for just a split second, he is the prey, finally happy to be safe within his quiet nest. He takes a deep breath. With an unsteady pace, he walks towards his kitchen, its darkened windows revealing the hellish landscape all around his little Obelisk; with shaking hands, he reaches for a bottle of whiskey, and pours himself a glass, avoiding spilling it, but only barely; and with a head full of terrible thoughts, he drinks it all up, feeling the alcohol burn his throat. He swallows the liquid, and puts down the glass. He stares at his hands. They do not stop shaking. He swallows again, this time out of pure reflex, and looks around the cold and dark room that now stands before him. He knows it is empty -- if anyone else but him were to attempt to enter, they would most certainly not live to tell the tale -- but still, he eyes the place suspiciously. Like a child looking at their clothes at night, expecting some monster to take their place, he too scans every surface of the place he calls home, searching for his own personal monster, one far more real than any kid could ever think up. But Iris Dark is not there. When he is certain beyond words that he is alone, only then does he finally take a breath. He looks at his hands again. They are now still, just like the cold blackstone that entombs Carter whole. He exhales, and sits down. He puts his head in his hands. For a few minutes, he is silent. He just sits there, unmoving, praying to an absent god, willing to promise everything so that Iris thinks he did well today. After a while, his breathing calms down. He once again looks beyond the windows of his apartment, and stares deeply into the burning wasteland of the Fourth Ring before him. //Tsch//. The Devil's Right-Hand Man. What a sick joke. He does not know how he got that title, really, even all those years later; he might serve under the devil -- or, rather, a devil, he supposes -- but he's not her right hand. She would rather chop it off than allow someone as sloppy and unprofessional as Carter to be her limb. He swallows again. In truth, Carter hates his little moniker. Not because it paints him as a ruthless monster -- that much he greatly enjoys -- but because it implies that he is somehow beyond the hierarchy the rest of the world suffers under. That he somehow escaped, and serves its unholy master as someone almost like an equal. He lets out a silent whimper. //Dad//. He thinks of his father again, in all of his ruthlessness and coldness. That's what he thought about him, when he was younger -- he thought him a distant figure that was never there. He hated him for it, more than anything else in the world. But now... now that he was truly and utterly gone, really to never be there again, Carter... Carter almost misses him. Or, at the very least, he misses the fact he had a choice, when it came to what he thought about his father. Now, all those years later, [[[money-game\|when Iris took him by force to take the throne for herself]]]... well. He's very little more than a slave to his circumstances. Somewhere deep inside, Carter fears that he loved his father. Somewhere even deeper, he fears that soon he might even see him again. He shakes his head, and leans back in his chair. That's what's the worst thing about his situation, he thinks. That, for all of his money and prestige, he is still little more than a prisoner in a golden cage and with a Dark master. The people think of him as someone like her -- after all, the Company name mentions his surname as that of an equal. And yet, he is not a senior partner, no matter what the people like to say. And say they do: he's heard it all. He's heard what they call him. And yet, despite all of their words, every title they give him is just wrong. Well, not //all of them//. They got one thing right: Robert Carter is a player, that much is sure -- and ever since his bosses have changed, he has been doing only one thing: playing one big gamble. A gamble over his own life. [[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>]]	2023-08-07T13:03:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "children-of-the-night", "corporate", "crime-fiction", "eurtec", "from-120s-archives", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "robert-carter", "tale", "three-portlands" ]	The Devil's Right-Hand Man - SCP Foundation	43	[ "ralliston-s-authorpage", "uiu-file-2014-158", "scp-5579", "scp-pl-273", "the-crocosquid", "money-game", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "marshall-carter-and-dark-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub" ]	[]	1449298318	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-devil-s-right-hand-man
the-escape-artist-of-saint-christopher-s	<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 involves institutional abuse and police brutality.</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><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> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>Mayford, Tennessee is a shithole town.</p> <p>I would know, because my family and I used to live there.</p> <p>It's miles away from any of the nearest towns. Most of the residents are as bigoted as you'd expect a rural town to be. The roads are full of potholes, none of which have been fixed. And the only interesting landmarks are the post office, and part of the subject of this post.</p> <p>Saint Christopher's Mental Institution.</p> <p>It used to be called Saint Christopher's Insane Asylum, but they were forced to change it after the state government got on their ass in 2008. It was situated on a large hill overlooking the rest of the town, surrounded by a tall spiked fence and gate. It was constructed in 1901, and you could tell. One of the most entertaining things you could do in Mayford was bet with the other locals how many bricks or tiles would fall off <em>this</em> time.</p> <p>But I'm not here to tell you about the structural failings of the building, or how the place was finally shut down in 2020 due to grossly unethical medical practices (though our subject <em>does</em> have a part in it).</p> <p>I'm here to talk about the Escape Artist of Saint Christopher's.</p> <p>I'm not going to mythologize him, like most people who know about Mayford do. I'm going to tell you the facts, as I know them.</p> <p>Thomas Jan Yaltz was born to Sophia and Jason Yaltz on Wednesday January 1st, 1997. Descendants of Polish immigrants (their surname is an anglicizing of Yelez), the Yaltzes lived an uneventful life until <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever">a rabies scare happened with 3 year old Thomas. While he didn't contract it, it still left him with a high fever that left him bedridden for a week.</a></p> <p>He would make a full recovery, but after that day, something seemed to irrevocably change with Thomas. What used to be a quiet boy who tended to blend into the background, according to his teachers, all of a sudden became both talkative and imaginative.</p> <p>It can be said that the roots of his reputation as an "Escape Artist" really began when Thomas was 6 years old. His teachers reported that he had not returned to class after asking to go to the bathroom. It was only when, after the school was searched top to bottom, that they heard crying from the rooftop.</p> <p>Up there, hyperventilating and trying to jiggle the roof access door's knob to no success, was Thomas.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>Questioned repeatedly by his teachers, his parents, and the police, Thomas was consistent with his account throughout. He had been about to leave the bathroom after washing his hands, when "the room changed." It <em>looked</em> like his school's bathroom, but "something was wrong" and "the me in the mirror wasn't copyin' me."</p> <p>Suddenly, his reflection began climbing out of the mirror and began chasing him. "He said he only wanted to play with me," Thomas would recount, "but I didn't like his smiling, so I ran. I ran as fast as I could."</p> <p>The entire school was empty, according to him, as he went from classroom to classroom away from his reflection. The floors were "dirty," all of the windows and doors were open, and the air outside was "hot and smelled like wet dog" as he finally decided to run upstairs to the roof and call for help from a grownup.</p> <p>The reflection, he claimed, started sprinting towards him once he reached the roof access door, and he was only barely able to slam the door shut on it. Pressing his back against the door as hard as he could, he could hear it "scratching on it like a cat" and spewing profanities at him.</p> <p>Suddenly, however, the air became clear again, and the scratching stopped.</p> <p>And he was stuck on the roof with no way to get down.</p> <p>That was what led up to him crying up there, or so he claims.</p> <p>Now, like me, you're probably dismissing his tale as the overreactive imagination of a terrified kindergartener, trying to come up with a lie that would get him out of trouble. But there's two things of note.</p> <p>1). Thomas continued to stay adamant about his version of events, even through the timeouts and groundings he subsequently endured.</p> <p>2). The roof's door was locked from the inside. No one could come up with an explanation of how he could even get up there without either being seen or seriously hurt.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>Of course, this would not be the last time that Thomas Yaltz would come up with an extravagant tale to explain his disappearances.</p> <p>In fact, they seemed to increase in frequency the older he got, according to documents.</p> <p>From when he claimed that his disappearing during a camping trip when he was 7 years old was because "a mermaid made me come to the lake, and took me to an underwater city".</p> <p>To him being treated as a runaway teen when he was 17 years old and vanished from home, only to be found shaking and shivering in his father's closet two weeks later, muttering about "too many spiders".</p> <p>The final straw, however, was when Thomas was 18 years old, and he disappeared during a relative's funeral, only to be found back at home almost five hours away from the proceedings.</p> <p>No one was able to explain how he'd gotten there before his parents, when walking home would require an eight hour trek across a highway and multiple interstates. Or how he'd even gotten in, when the front and back doors were locked and bolted, and the windows didn't open.</p> <p>This time, no one even bothered to listen to Thomas' fantastical explanation for how he'd gotten there, and the police would drag him, kicking and screaming, into Saint Christopher's Mental Institution, to be committed for schizophrenia.</p> <p>Of course, after Saint Christopher's was shut down, this would be heavily scrutinized by mental health professionals, and would be called bullshit not just because there was no history of it in Thomas' family, not only was it at odds with his prior mental health checkups, but also because the paper diagnosing him was not reviewed by peers or supervisors. Just rubber-stamped before the ink even dried.</p> <p>Thus begins Thomas Yaltz's time while institutionalized.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>The first month of Thomas' institutionalization - or to be described more accurately, incarceration - was uneventful, but no less horrifying.</p> <p>He was placed in a locked room with no windows, and not just orderlies, but security cameras placed in front of the door at all times. He was to be straitjacketed unless he ate with the other "patients" or he needed to use the facilities. He was not allowed outside by any means. He was called all manner of ableist slurs by the staff (which I will not be repeating here due to site rules). And all mail sent to him by his family was intercepted and thrown into the building's furnace.</p> <p>Thomas grew thinner and more withdrawn the longer he was kept like this, refusing to eat too much food and barely speaking a word to anyone who said anything to him. It got to the point where they needed to get a tighter straitjacket, because his normal one was becoming too big for him.</p> <p>And then, one day, he'd vanished. Or rather, escaped.</p> <p>No one was able to figure out how he'd done it. There was no way in or out of that room except the door, and that opened only when the orderlies were mandated to let him out. No security cameras caught him coming out of the building, either. It was just one moment, he was in his room; the next, he was gone.</p> <p>He wouldn't stay gone for long, however. The sheriff of Mayford and police forces would find Thomas in his family's home, hugging his mother tight and crying. They had to physically restrain her from fighting the officers, who proceeded to beat her with their batons while he was dragged back into his prison.</p> <p>Security was tightened. An orderly would stay in his room until midnight, more security cameras were placed inside and outside of the institution, and now he could only eat from a slot in his door, the orderly having to feed him themselves because Thomas was now straitjacketed at all times.</p> <p>But, miraculously, he somehow managed to escape again.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777<br/> It was during the morning security check one day, when they found that Thomas was not in his room. This time, the entire police force combed the decrepit institution from top to bottom, detaining other patients, sometimes (read: always) violently, but once again no one could find him or fathom how he'd done it.</p> <p>Despite the deplorably brutal measures the pigs inflicted on the Yaltz family, they were adamant about not having any physical contact with Thomas since he was re-institutionalized. A bulletin was sent to all other police stations in the Tennessee area, fabricating that Thomas was "armed, mentally unstable, and extremely dangerous", and wanted posters were plastered across the state.</p> <p>It would be three months before Thomas would be spotted again, eating at an Arby's in Memphis. Their police force swiftly barged into the restaurant, slamming him against the table and battering him with their steel batons until bruises could be seen on his body, before cuffing him and throwing him into a squad car, to be kept in a jail cell until Mayford's cops could haul him back.</p> <p>It just kept happening, no matter how much security was tightened around him. And no matter how rough the interrogations got, or how much food was deprived from him, Thomas never, ever said a word on how he'd escaped or where he'd gone.</p> <p>By the time the most stringent measures were put in place-strapped to his bed, fed intravenously, and watched by an entire team of orderlies 24/7- Thomas Jan Yaltz had become something of a legend amongst the other patients of Saint Christopher's Mental Institution. Whether it'd been out of envy, admiration, or perhaps both at the same time, Thomas was all the patients would talk about during meal periods, until the staff-predictably-cracked down on such "nonsense", threatening electroconvulsive therapy on anyone who even alluded to his name.</p> <p>After that, things seemed to have finally quieted down with St. Christopher's "problem patient".</p> <p>Until the breakout happened, that is.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>You've probably heard the story. The report on it by Stuart Milin put him, and Mayford as a whole, on the map.</p> <p>For those of you that don't, however, I'll summarize what happened.</p> <p>On the night of February 1st 2020, just before dinnertime ended, masked men in brown suits and wielding firearms breached the front door of St. Christopher's, firing warning shots into the air and causing the patients to scramble into a panic.</p> <p>However, these men ignored them, instead making their way towards the corridor that Thomas was kept in. Any staff that attempted to stop them were fired upon by rubber bullets that knocked them unconscious. The door to Thomas' room was rammed and rammed until the hinges gave way, the men subduing the orderlies promptly before freeing Thomas from his constraints.</p> <p>According to the patients that were brave enough to witness this event, Thomas Yaltz was a husk of his former self. His cheeks were sunken in, his ribs could be seen through his chest, and he didn't even stir as the men carried him out from the building, before slamming the door shut.</p> <p>That was the last time Thomas Yaltz was seen alive.</p> <p>No one knew who these men were, what they wanted with Thomas Yaltz, where they took him, or what they did with him. For everyone involved, however, it was like one last escape from his prison.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>The Tennessee state government came down like a hammer on Mayford after that day. St. Christopher's was indicted with lawsuit after lawsuit, by transferred or released patients, for institutional abuse, bigotry, medical torture, forced conversions…you name it. Unable to pay the hundreds of millions of dollars slammed against them, the mental institution was forcefully shut down on March 15th 2020. The building was demolished to the ground the following year. From what I've heard, they're planning on converting it into a memorial site.</p> <p>Mayford's police force was gutted like a fish, the entire branch shut down and authority subsumed by the nearby county of Erwin.</p> <p>The Yaltzes moved out of Mayford less than a day after the institution was shut down, to live a quiet and private life elsewhere.</p> <p>Thomas Yaltz was declared legally dead in 2023.</p> </div> <div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>PodunkTownRez</strong></span> #555000777</p> <hr/> <p>Was Thomas Yaltz really telling the truth, whenever he told people what sounded like fibs? How did he escape from such seemingly airtight security measures? And where is he now?</p> <p>I, unfortunately, cannot answer that. It goes beyond the boundary of facts that I swore to tell, and into speculation.</p> <p>I will, however, leave everyone off with an anecdote, from a relative of mine.</p> <p>Yes, my aunt was among those forcefully institutionalized by that pig-headed sheriff and those loathsome doctors. She's back at home now, with me and the rest of my caring family, having endured the shocks, the "therapy sessions", and all attempts to crush her spirits and what made my aunt my aunt.</p> <p>She'd always been a little different than other people. She calls it "being in tune with my mystical side". Whatever it is, she witnessed the beginning and end of the breakout of Thomas Yaltz. However, please take her words with as much or as little grains of salt as you wish.</p> <blockquote> <p><em>It weren't vigilantes, or mercenaries, or whatever codswallop that plagiarizin' hack Milin tried to explain them as, that got Tommy out of that hell. It was mystics, just like him an' I. Oh, they musta put up some kind of glamour to make it look like they were carryin' guns and whatnot, but they didn't fool me. Ah could see their robes, the spells they cast on those bastard staff, hear the words they spoke in another tongue as they left.</em></p> <p><em>Wherever they took poor ol' Tommy, <a href="/yggdrasils-surveyor">ah hope he's in a better place now</a>.</em></p> </blockquote> </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-escape-artist-of-saint-christopher-s">The Escape Artist Of Saint Christopher's</a>" by newnykacolaquantum, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-escape-artist-of-saint-christopher-s">https://scpwiki.com/the-escape-artist-of-saint-christopher-s</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>]] ⚠️ Content warning: This article involves institutional abuse and police brutality. [[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>]] [[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>]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ------ Mayford, Tennessee is a shithole town. I would know, because my family and I used to live there. It's miles away from any of the nearest towns. Most of the residents are as bigoted as you'd expect a rural town to be. The roads are full of potholes, none of which have been fixed. And the only interesting landmarks are the post office, and part of the subject of this post. Saint Christopher's Mental Institution. It used to be called Saint Christopher's Insane Asylum, but they were forced to change it after the state government got on their ass in 2008. It was situated on a large hill overlooking the rest of the town, surrounded by a tall spiked fence and gate. It was constructed in 1901, and you could tell. One of the most entertaining things you could do in Mayford was bet with the other locals how many bricks or tiles would fall off //this// time. But I'm not here to tell you about the structural failings of the building, or how the place was finally shut down in 2020 due to grossly unethical medical practices (though our subject //does// have a part in it). I'm here to talk about the Escape Artist of Saint Christopher's. I'm not going to mythologize him, like most people who know about Mayford do. I'm going to tell you the facts, as I know them. Thomas Jan Yaltz was born to Sophia and Jason Yaltz on Wednesday January 1st, 1997. Descendants of Polish immigrants (their surname is an anglicizing of Yelez), the Yaltzes lived an uneventful life until [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever\|a rabies scare happened with 3 year old Thomas. While he didn't contract it, it still left him with a high fever that left him bedridden for a week.]]] He would make a full recovery, but after that day, something seemed to irrevocably change with Thomas. What used to be a quiet boy who tended to blend into the background, according to his teachers, all of a sudden became both talkative and imaginative. It can be said that the roots of his reputation as an "Escape Artist" really began when Thomas was 6 years old. His teachers reported that he had not returned to class after asking to go to the bathroom. It was only when, after the school was searched top to bottom, that they heard crying from the rooftop. Up there, hyperventilating and trying to jiggle the roof access door's knob to no success, was Thomas. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ------ Questioned repeatedly by his teachers, his parents, and the police, Thomas was consistent with his account throughout. He had been about to leave the bathroom after washing his hands, when "the room changed." It //looked// like his school's bathroom, but "something was wrong" and "the me in the mirror wasn't copyin' me." Suddenly, his reflection began climbing out of the mirror and began chasing him. "He said he only wanted to play with me," Thomas would recount, "but I didn't like his smiling, so I ran. I ran as fast as I could." The entire school was empty, according to him, as he went from classroom to classroom away from his reflection. The floors were "dirty," all of the windows and doors were open, and the air outside was "hot and smelled like wet dog" as he finally decided to run upstairs to the roof and call for help from a grownup. The reflection, he claimed, started sprinting towards him once he reached the roof access door, and he was only barely able to slam the door shut on it. Pressing his back against the door as hard as he could, he could hear it "scratching on it like a cat" and spewing profanities at him. Suddenly, however, the air became clear again, and the scratching stopped. And he was stuck on the roof with no way to get down. That was what led up to him crying up there, or so he claims. Now, like me, you're probably dismissing his tale as the overreactive imagination of a terrified kindergartener, trying to come up with a lie that would get him out of trouble. But there's two things of note. 1). Thomas continued to stay adamant about his version of events, even through the timeouts and groundings he subsequently endured. 2). The roof's door was locked from the inside. No one could come up with an explanation of how he could even get up there without either being seen or seriously hurt. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ------ Of course, this would not be the last time that Thomas Yaltz would come up with an extravagant tale to explain his disappearances. In fact, they seemed to increase in frequency the older he got, according to documents. From when he claimed that his disappearing during a camping trip when he was 7 years old was because "a mermaid made me come to the lake, and took me to an underwater city". To him being treated as a runaway teen when he was 17 years old and vanished from home, only to be found shaking and shivering in his father's closet two weeks later, muttering about "too many spiders". The final straw, however, was when Thomas was 18 years old, and he disappeared during a relative's funeral, only to be found back at home almost five hours away from the proceedings. No one was able to explain how he'd gotten there before his parents, when walking home would require an eight hour trek across a highway and multiple interstates. Or how he'd even gotten in, when the front and back doors were locked and bolted, and the windows didn't open. This time, no one even bothered to listen to Thomas' fantastical explanation for how he'd gotten there, and the police would drag him, kicking and screaming, into Saint Christopher's Mental Institution, to be committed for schizophrenia. Of course, after Saint Christopher's was shut down, this would be heavily scrutinized by mental health professionals, and would be called bullshit not just because there was no history of it in Thomas' family, not only was it at odds with his prior mental health checkups, but also because the paper diagnosing him was not reviewed by peers or supervisors. Just rubber-stamped before the ink even dried. Thus begins Thomas Yaltz's time while institutionalized. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ------ The first month of Thomas' institutionalization - or to be described more accurately, incarceration - was uneventful, but no less horrifying. He was placed in a locked room with no windows, and not just orderlies, but security cameras placed in front of the door at all times. He was to be straitjacketed unless he ate with the other "patients" or he needed to use the facilities. He was not allowed outside by any means. He was called all manner of ableist slurs by the staff (which I will not be repeating here due to site rules). And all mail sent to him by his family was intercepted and thrown into the building's furnace. Thomas grew thinner and more withdrawn the longer he was kept like this, refusing to eat too much food and barely speaking a word to anyone who said anything to him. It got to the point where they needed to get a tighter straitjacket, because his normal one was becoming too big for him. And then, one day, he'd vanished. Or rather, escaped. No one was able to figure out how he'd done it. There was no way in or out of that room except the door, and that opened only when the orderlies were mandated to let him out. No security cameras caught him coming out of the building, either. It was just one moment, he was in his room; the next, he was gone. He wouldn't stay gone for long, however. The sheriff of Mayford and police forces would find Thomas in his family's home, hugging his mother tight and crying. They had to physically restrain her from fighting the officers, who proceeded to beat her with their batons while he was dragged back into his prison. Security was tightened. An orderly would stay in his room until midnight, more security cameras were placed inside and outside of the institution, and now he could only eat from a slot in his door, the orderly having to feed him themselves because Thomas was now straitjacketed at all times. But, miraculously, he somehow managed to escape again. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 It was during the morning security check one day, when they found that Thomas was not in his room. This time, the entire police force combed the decrepit institution from top to bottom, detaining other patients, sometimes (read: always) violently, but once again no one could find him or fathom how he'd done it. Despite the deplorably brutal measures the pigs inflicted on the Yaltz family, they were adamant about not having any physical contact with Thomas since he was re-institutionalized. A bulletin was sent to all other police stations in the Tennessee area, fabricating that Thomas was "armed, mentally unstable, and extremely dangerous", and wanted posters were plastered across the state. It would be three months before Thomas would be spotted again, eating at an Arby's in Memphis. Their police force swiftly barged into the restaurant, slamming him against the table and battering him with their steel batons until bruises could be seen on his body, before cuffing him and throwing him into a squad car, to be kept in a jail cell until Mayford's cops could haul him back. It just kept happening, no matter how much security was tightened around him. And no matter how rough the interrogations got, or how much food was deprived from him, Thomas never, ever said a word on how he'd escaped or where he'd gone. By the time the most stringent measures were put in place-strapped to his bed, fed intravenously, and watched by an entire team of orderlies 24/7- Thomas Jan Yaltz had become something of a legend amongst the other patients of Saint Christopher's Mental Institution. Whether it'd been out of envy, admiration, or perhaps both at the same time, Thomas was all the patients would talk about during meal periods, until the staff-predictably-cracked down on such "nonsense", threatening electroconvulsive therapy on anyone who even alluded to his name. After that, things seemed to have finally quieted down with St. Christopher's "problem patient". Until the breakout happened, that is. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ----- You've probably heard the story. The report on it by Stuart Milin put him, and Mayford as a whole, on the map. For those of you that don't, however, I'll summarize what happened. On the night of February 1st 2020, just before dinnertime ended, masked men in brown suits and wielding firearms breached the front door of St. Christopher's, firing warning shots into the air and causing the patients to scramble into a panic. However, these men ignored them, instead making their way towards the corridor that Thomas was kept in. Any staff that attempted to stop them were fired upon by rubber bullets that knocked them unconscious. The door to Thomas' room was rammed and rammed until the hinges gave way, the men subduing the orderlies promptly before freeing Thomas from his constraints. According to the patients that were brave enough to witness this event, Thomas Yaltz was a husk of his former self. His cheeks were sunken in, his ribs could be seen through his chest, and he didn't even stir as the men carried him out from the building, before slamming the door shut. That was the last time Thomas Yaltz was seen alive. No one knew who these men were, what they wanted with Thomas Yaltz, where they took him, or what they did with him. For everyone involved, however, it was like one last escape from his prison. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ----- The Tennessee state government came down like a hammer on Mayford after that day. St. Christopher's was indicted with lawsuit after lawsuit, by transferred or released patients, for institutional abuse, bigotry, medical torture, forced conversions...you name it. Unable to pay the hundreds of millions of dollars slammed against them, the mental institution was forcefully shut down on March 15th 2020. The building was demolished to the ground the following year. From what I've heard, they're planning on converting it into a memorial site. Mayford's police force was gutted like a fish, the entire branch shut down and authority subsumed by the nearby county of Erwin. The Yaltzes moved out of Mayford less than a day after the institution was shut down, to live a quiet and private life elsewhere. Thomas Yaltz was declared legally dead in 2023. [[/div]] [[div style="display: inline-block; background: var(--bg-dark); border-width: 2px; border-style: solid; border-color: var(--bg-light); float:center; width:84%; padding:1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 40px"]] ##yellow\|PodunkTownRez## #555000777 ----- Was Thomas Yaltz really telling the truth, whenever he told people what sounded like fibs? How did he escape from such seemingly airtight security measures? And where is he now? I, unfortunately, cannot answer that. It goes beyond the boundary of facts that I swore to tell, and into speculation. I will, however, leave everyone off with an anecdote, from a relative of mine. Yes, my aunt was among those forcefully institutionalized by that pig-headed sheriff and those loathsome doctors. She's back at home now, with me and the rest of my caring family, having endured the shocks, the "therapy sessions", and all attempts to crush her spirits and what made my aunt my aunt. She'd always been a little different than other people. She calls it "being in tune with my mystical side". Whatever it is, she witnessed the beginning and end of the breakout of Thomas Yaltz. However, please take her words with as much or as little grains of salt as you wish. > //It weren't vigilantes, or mercenaries, or whatever codswallop that plagiarizin' hack Milin tried to explain them as, that got Tommy out of that hell. It was mystics, just like him an' I. Oh, they musta put up some kind of glamour to make it look like they were carryin' guns and whatnot, but they didn't fool me. Ah could see their robes, the spells they cast on those bastard staff, hear the words they spoke in another tongue as they left.// > > //Wherever they took poor ol' Tommy, [[[yggdrasils-surveyor\|ah hope he's in a better place now]]].// [[/div]] [[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>]]	2023-08-08T05:10:00	[ "_licensebox", "grabnok", "parawatch", "tale", "yggdrasil-s-surveyor" ]	The Escape Artist Of Saint Christopher's - SCP Foundation	19	[ "when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever", "yggdrasils-surveyor", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "yggdrasils-surveyor", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "parawatch-hub" ]	[]	1449301916	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-escape-artist-of-saint-christopher-s
the-fall-of-site-128	<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">; 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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: 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>The Fall of Site-128</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/olivermemphis" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6623086); return false;"><img alt="OliverMemphis" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6623086&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032442" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6623086)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/olivermemphis" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6623086); return false;">OliverMemphis</a></span></p> <p>Something must be done; this is something, therefore we must do it.</p> <p><strong><a href="/not-actually-from-memphis">More by this author</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> </div> <div style="center no-repeat ; float: center; border: solid 2px #000000; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>SCP Foundation Secure Facility Dossier (Abridged)</span></h1> <h3 id="toc1"><span>Research and Containment Site-128</span></h3> <p><strong>Site Identification Code:</strong> GBSWCB-Site-128</p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span>General Information</span></h2> </div> <p><strong>Site Function:</strong> Site-128 is a small research and containment facility, focused on storing Safe-class objects and minor anomalous ephemera, alongside monitoring low-level GoI activity within southern England.</p> <p><strong>Founded:</strong> 27 May, 1989</p> <p><strong>Founding Director:</strong> Dr. Richard Sterling</p> <p><strong>Location:</strong> Somerset, England</p> <p><strong>Cover Story:</strong> Schmitz-Corsham Processing (refuse management centre)</p> <p><strong>Size:</strong> 8000 m²</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc3"><span>Site Overview</span></h2> </div> <p>Site-128 was originally established to monitor an anomalous retailer known as Holt Office Supplies, which operated numerous outlets and ventures in southern England throughout much of the 1980s and 90s. Its operations have since shifted to cover the storage of low-risk anomalies, general GoI monitoring in the region, and some academic work on theoretical parastatistics.</p> <p>Site-128 is currently the smallest Foundation facility in the British Isles, and remains among the smallest in the world. For this reason, it has retained a relatively low profile within the organisation since its founding, and is unable to take on projects with particularly high budgetary or personnel requirements.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc4"><span>Staffing Information</span></h2> </div> <p><strong>On-Site Personnel:</strong> 44</p> <p><strong>Site Director:</strong> Dr. Marie S. Bradley<br/> <strong>Deputy Director:</strong> Lorenzo Montalbini<br/> <strong>Chief of Security:</strong> Jeffrey R. Flint<br/> <strong>Senior Researchers:</strong> Dr. Kai L. Lassila, Dr. Oliver Q. Memphis<br/> <strong>GoI Specialist:</strong> Dr. Elia Fira<br/> <strong>Head of Maintenance:</strong> Sara Doyle<br/> <strong>Chief Medical Officer:</strong> Dr. Blake R. Turner</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="s128"> <h2 id="toc5"><span>2016-08-03</span></h2> <h4 id="toc6"><span>16:53</span></h4> <h5 id="toc7"><span>Site-128, Somerset, England</span></h5> </div> <p>Oliver Memphis's job did not involve reviewing the Secure Facility Dossier.</p> <p>He was doing it anyway, because with every passing week he became less and less sure what precisely his job did involve. He knew what his job was <em>called</em> — he was a Senior Researcher at Site-128 — but why such a position was in any way required remained a continuing mystery.</p> <p>The five SCP objects for which the Site was responsible, as of now, possessed no significant scientific or strategic value of any kind. No useful or interesting data had emanated from the facility in months, if not years. The parastats work, which he was supposed to be writing a fairly unremarkable paper on, had been stymied by the fact that he needed data from other Sites — all of whom had ignored his emails.</p> <p>The dossier was far too diplomatically-phrased to use words like "stagnant", "redundant" or "shithole", which Oliver considered a shame. It might have got them shut down, and the sooner that happened, the sooner he would have a chance of transferring somewhere more interesting.</p> <p>"Do we have a Kant counter?" came the voice from across his desk.</p> <p>Oliver looked up from his monitor. "I think so. Should be in storage somewhere. Why, what do you want to use it for?"</p> <p>"The Site."</p> <p>The office was in keeping with the Foundation's conventional aesthetic, in that it was a windowless white box with austere furnishings and negligible decoration. The desk faced a blank wall, which made it a good spot for staring into the middle distance — a popular activity, given the quantity of actual work required of him. He was currently filling time, as he often did, by chatting to Kai Lassila, 128's other Senior Researcher — the fact that it needed <em>one</em> of those was odd, but two was frankly baffling — about whatever was going on at any one of the myriad more exciting facilities operated by the SCP Foundation. The places that weren't where research went to die.</p> <p>"What do you mean, you want to use it for the Site?" He attempted to raise one eyebrow and failed, so opted to just furrow them both instead.</p> <p>Kai looked at him from across the desk. "I want to take the Humes of the entire Site," he explained, "because I don't see any other reason for—"</p> <p>He found himself interrupted by a distant crashing sound, followed two seconds later by a notably less distant one. The room jolted in what could have been an earthquake — if earthquakes were the kind of thing that happened in southwest England, which broadly speaking they were not — and then the lights snapped out, leaving the windowless office bathed only in the dim green glow of a single emergency exit sign.</p> <p>"Um."</p> <p>Before either of them could fully process what was happening, sound began to erupt from the little radio on the desk. There seemed to be at least four people talking at once, and it was impossible to make out more than a handful of words over the crosstalk and background noise:</p> <p><em>"—emergency—"</em></p> <p><em>"—calling Security Chief Flint—"</em></p> <p><em>"—please advise—"</em></p> <p><em>"—north side of the building—"</em></p> <p><em>"—status on the Director—"</em></p> <p><em>"—hostiles, unknown number—"</em></p> <p>They heard gunfire downstairs, and the little radio nearly blew out its speakers as it dutifully tried to relay the noise. There was some sort of general commotion about three metres below their feet, and Kai suddenly wondered if this dark and airless office was the exact best place for him to be right now.</p> <p>"What should—"</p> <p>"Shh." Oliver pointed to the radio, before grabbing a flashlight and a pad of paper out of a drawer. Kai picked up a green pen and wrote:</p> <p><span class="kl">EVACUATE OR SHELTER HERE?</span></p> <p>Oliver listened to the incoherent shouting on the radio, considered for a moment, and then replied:</p> <p><span class="om">HERE — DOOR LOCKS FROM INSIDE</span></p> <p>Once he'd got up, locked the door and sat back down, Kai was writing again:</p> <p><span class="kl">CONTAINMENT BREACH???</span></p> <p>The confusion was entirely reasonable. 128 had no Keters, no humanoid anomalies, and essentially no potential for a containment breach to occur, especially not one as destructive as this. The alternative, Oliver realised, was much worse.</p> <p><span class="om">SOMETHING'S TRYING TO GET <span style="text-decoration: underline;">IN</span>, NOT OUT</span></p> <p>Neither of them kept track of how long they stayed inside; it could just as easily have been thirty minutes as thirty seconds. Given that the attackers had seemingly managed to enter the building, the chances of one office door blocking their passage seemed low to negligible, but in the absence of any alternatives they stayed still and silent.</p> <p>After a seemingly interminable amount of shouting and general panic, the crosstalk began to subside. Oliver picked up the radio, gingerly pressed the button with one thumb, and spoke as calmly as he could manage: "Memphis to 128 actual, requesting situation report."</p> <p>The response came quickly, though it wasn't the Director's voice. "Dr. Memphis? Can you come to the front of the building, please?"</p> <p>As though it understood the concept of comedic timing, the floor gave way.</p> <hr/> <p>The fall wasn't far. This was partly down to the building's haphazard architecture, which had helpfully placed his office directly above a small room with a low ceiling; mainly, however, it was because all four walls of said room had been at least partially smashed through, with the resulting rubble piled up where they landed.</p> <p>Kai stood up, dazed, and looked around the newly-open plan space. Every visible surface seemed to feature an assortment of bullet holes, scorch marks and exposed wiring. Smoke was emanating from several different corridors at once, and he could see outside — not because there happened to be a window there, but because there was now a sudden vacancy for the job of exterior north wall.</p> <p>"What did they <em>do</em>." He realised his eyes were itching.</p> <p>"I think that part's fairly clear," Oliver muttered, before walking away without another word.</p> <p>They both moved towards the brand new exit, which looked for all the world like a truck had smashed directly into the structure, before reversing out again and driving off. Oliver tried very hard not to think about what kind of vehicle might have been able to do that, just like he tried not to think about why there were bodies on the ground, or what the crumpled metal object on the floor was supposed to be, or the fact that if he couldn't see the fire from where he was then it was almost certainly coming from the main admin wing, or who the bodies on the ground were, or why everyone seemed to be waiting there for them and them specifically, or why the maintenance chief was rushing over to look at the crumpled metal thing, or why everything looked to be completely bullet-riddled, or where the Director was, or where the security chief was, or why he was still standing stock-still inside the building even though the roof was probably close to caving in, or who—</p> <p>"Dr. Memphis?"</p> <p>The voice calling from outside snapped him out of his trance, and he ran over to its source: a security guard named Bains. "Were we attacked?" he asked flatly.</p> <p>"…yes. Did you not notice?" Bains replied incredulously.</p> <p>"I was stuck in my office the whole time. Just assume I know nothing. Where's Bradley?"</p> <p>"Unconscious. Smoke inhalation. So's Montalbini." Oliver opened his mouth, but no words came out, so the guard continued. "And Flint's gone AWOL."</p> <p>He was about to ask the obvious next question, and then realised he knew the answer already.</p> <div class="blockquote table2"> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><strong>Site Director:</strong> Dr. Marie S. Bradley</span><br/> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><strong>Deputy Director:</strong> Lorenzo Montalbini</span><br/> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><strong>Chief of Security:</strong> Jeffrey R. Flint</span><br/> <em><strong>Senior Researchers:</strong> Dr. Kai L. Lassila, Dr. Oliver Q. Memphis</em><br/> <strong>GoI Specialist:</strong> Dr. Elia Fira<br/> <strong>Head of Maintenance:</strong> Sara Doyle<br/> <strong>Chief Medical Officer:</strong> Dr. Blake R. Turner</p> </div> <p>"Kai?" he called.</p> <p>The other man jogged over. "What?"</p> <p>Oliver spoke quietly through gritted teeth. "We appear to be in charge of the Site."</p> <hr/> <p>Site-128 had a full staff complement of around forty or fifty. The minority of these people who possessed any training whatsoever in first aid, building maintenance or general crisis response were helping out in whatever way they could, while the remainder were steadily rounded up by one of the Acting Co-Directors to stop them getting in the way.</p> <p>"Everyone into the parking lot, please! Everyone without response duties, give us some space!" Kai shouted ineffectually. He wasn't used to projecting his voice, especially not into a crowd of confused and frightened staff all murmuring amongst themselves.</p> <p>He turned to Bains. "Do we have a bullhorn or something?"</p> <p>She pointed at the ruined building. "In there."</p> <p>"Oh, terrific."</p> <hr/> <p>"Specialist Campaign Polling," came a pleasant voice through Oliver's phone. "How can I help?"</p> <p>He was standing as far away from the madding crowd as possible, on the opposite side of the building. It was the closest currently-available approximation to peace and quiet.</p> <p>"Hello, could I speak to Chris Romero in Quality Control, please?" he said, hoping he'd remembered the code phrase correctly.</p> <p>"Which office, Boston or Seattle?"</p> <p>"Lisbon."</p> <p>"Just a moment, please."</p> <p>There was no hold music while his call was transferred, just a faint dial tone.</p> <hr/> <p>"We need these people out of here," explained Blake Turner. He was attending to a collection of people clustered around the least-damaged part of the Site, all in various states of serious injury. "We don't have the facilities or staff to treat them all here, and that's assuming the medical wing were actually usable. Which it's not."</p> <p>Kai did some mental maths. The nearest facility was Site-12, around eighty miles away. A Foundation helicopter could get there quickly enough, but this place only had one, and it couldn't accommodate all of these people at once. They might end up needing the help of every Site in the country.</p> <hr/> <p>A different voice came through. "Overwatch crisis response. State your location, situation and code phrase."</p> <p>"Site-128. Emergency code Bravo-3. Memphis beta twenty-eight giml blueprint Taliesin."</p> <p>Another pause. "Copy that. Give me a detailed report."</p> <p>He launched into his hastily-prepared monologue. "OK, we've been attacked by… around fifteen individuals. Two of them are captured, and we believe the rest are dead, so there's no <em>immediate</em> danger, but they caused a lot of damage. Seems they rammed a truck straight into the building, multiple times, and then just started shooting and setting things on fire. No idea who they were or what they were hoping to achieve, but we have, I believe, nine staff currently injured or unconscious, including the Director and her deputy. Several of those will need medical attention off-Site somewhere, because we do not have the ability to provide it right now. The building is half-destroyed, has no power, and may be in imminent danger of collapse… oh, and our Chief of Security, who should be the Acting Director right now, is missing."</p> <p>As he was speaking, Kai ran over and pointed at the segregated area where their single helicopter — having somehow survived the attack undamaged — was kept. He brought his hand up into the air, then down towards the ground, then held up ten fingers, then two.</p> <p>"So we'll need logistical help from Site-12," Oliver finished. Kai tapped his wrist, and he added: "Urgently."</p> <hr/> <p>Sara Doyle was attempting to investigate what remained of the building, whilst making sure none of it fell on her head or entered her lungs. She didn't really have the mental space to answer Kai's questions at the same time, but she tried to entertain him anyway.</p> <p>"I have no idea how long it'll be until we're operational," the maintenance chief explained. "Right now, I wouldn't even let anyone inside without PPE. Probably stay that way for a few days, minimum." She picked up an unidentifiable chunk of metal and presented it to him. "This was the main fuse box. We're only gonna get power back once this entire area gets rewired." She dropped the mangled box on the ground, and gestured broadly at the missing wall. "Does that give you an idea?"</p> <p>This news was not cheerful. "Any containment compromised?" he asked. It was mostly an irrelevant question, since none of their anomalous items actually required any containment measures beyond leaving them in a locked cupboard somewhere, but it was the only one he could think to ask.</p> <p>"Aside from the fact that anyone can just walk inside, you mean? I don't know," Doyle said firmly, "because all the anomalies are stored in the middle of the building, and <em>we can't go in there to check on them.</em>"</p> <p>"I'll put that down as a 'no'," Kai replied. "I think we've got enough problems for now."</p> <hr/> <p>Oliver had been shunted over to the switchboard of the Site-12 logistics office. He wasn't precisely sure what the person he'd spoken to at Overwatch was supposed to be doing, but he hoped it was something useful.</p> <p>"This is Acting Director Oliver Memphis from Site-128," he explained. "We have nine Foundation personnel requiring urgent transfer to your facility for emergency medical care, and we only have the capacity to move two of them."</p> <p>The person on the other end frowned. Oliver couldn't see it, of course, because they were just a voice, but he could tell. "For what reason?"</p> <p>"Bravo-3. We got attacked, and so our own medical wing is completely unusable right now. We have some high-ranking personnel unconscious, and we need any logistical help you can offer in getting them to you."</p> <p>He wondered how many more people he was going to have to explain the current predicament to. <em>Maybe I should just learn this script by rote.</em></p> <hr/> <p>Their own helicopter had departed with the Director and her deputy on board, and several more were apparently on their way from Dartmoor. Following that, some more security-ish personnel were scheduled to arrive — neither Kai nor Oliver had been told from where — to pick up all of their unwanted visitors both dead and alive, and take them somewhere where they were no longer 128's problem. The support staff were handling things as well as they could, and it seemed that trying to get anyone else to lend a hand would turn the whole mess into a too-many-cooks situation. There was therefore nothing left to do except wait, and so Kai was preparing to send most of the staff home.</p> <p>He wanted to talk to one of them first, though.</p> <p>128 had been founded to monitor Groups of Interest operating in the area, and this remained some of the only legitimate work it still did. The majority of said work was done by one person, who was standing off to one side with their head in their hands. In Elia Fira's case, this either meant they were deep in thought, or trying to block out every detail of their surroundings. Possibly both.</p> <p>"Any ideas who this was?" asked Kai.</p> <p>They shook their head. "Not a clue. Don't know anyone that operates like this. Except maybe the CI, but they usually wear their logo. These guys had no insignia."</p> <p>"Not even all uniformed," Kai muttered.</p> <p>Fira looked over at him. "Yeah, they were. All in tactical gear, just unmarked tactical gear."</p> <p>Now it was Kai's turn to shake his head. "Not all of them. I saw three or four in plain clothes." He pointed towards the corner of the building where the bodies had been dumped.</p> <p>"Why would only four of them be in plain clothes?"</p> <p>Before Kai could respond, he noticed the rusted south fence near one of the utterly obliterated external buildings. It backed onto a hedge, which in turn backed onto an open field where anyone could be walking — and he was fairly sure it hadn't been touched by the attackers, it had always had that hole in it…</p> <p>"Oh, <em>fuck</em>." Kai didn't finish the thought out loud.</p> <p><em>Those were <a href="/scp-6495">civilians</a>.</em></p> <hr/> <p>Kai strode around the building towards Oliver's hiding spot. "Not my problem," he muttered to himself. "I'll tell him, and he'll tell someone else, and it will be their problem and not mine, and I don't have to think about it."</p> <p>He didn't stop thinking about it.</p> <hr/> <div class="s128"> <h4 id="toc8"><span>20:46</span></h4> </div> <div class="blockquote table3"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc9"><span>SITE-128 ALL-STAFF BULLETIN</span></h3> <p>Site-128 will be closed to all personnel until further notice, except those responsible for security or building maintenance.</p> <p>Further information will be provided when available.</p> </div> </div> <p>"Sent," said Kai as he tapped his phone.</p> <p>The two of them had chosen to make this announcement for the same reason they were sat in the back of Oliver's car instead of in an office: Sara Doyle had told them in no uncertain terms that the building was not fit for human occupancy, and would not be for several days at a bare minimum.</p> <p>They both sat in silence.</p> <p>Eventually, Oliver spoke. "What were you saying earlier? About measuring the Site's Hume levels?"</p> <p>Kai looked over at him. "Do you think they're going to shut down 128 after this?"</p> <p>Oliver stared out of the window across the nearly-deserted parking lot, squinting at the empty husk of the building under the slowly-dimming sunlight. "Wouldn't surprise me."</p> <p>"Why do you think it took them this long?"</p> <p>Oliver shrugged. "Probably the same reason they haven't closed 333 yet. Decomming a Site is a lot of work, and even the ones that look useless now might be important in the future. Don't want to close a place down and then only realise you need it a couple years later. Same goes for 246, considering how old it is. Or… I think even Area-21 mostly exists as a formality these days."</p> <p>"Area-21 does <em>something</em>. It's still used as a testing ground for AcroAbate research. Site-333 does <em>something</em>, even if they've got the most incompetent administrators on the planet. What do we have? Five skips, if I'm counting right, plus a bunch of minor anomalous objects that no-one cares about. None of them are hard to contain, and we've had them all for so long that we basically know everything there is to know about them. And they're not even here any more." Everything anomalous had been moved out of the building as a precautionary measure, since it now possessed the containment capabilities of a damp paper bag. "We've got twelve research staff, total, and they're doing 20% theoretical parastats and 80% meaningless data collection."</p> <p>"I see where you're going with this," Oliver replied, "but just to play devil's advocate: what about strategic value?"</p> <p>"Well, what about it? Do we have any?"</p> <p>"Not that I'm aware of, but it's entirely possible there's… I don't know, some stuff way above my clearance level that means we need to have a facility right here. Maybe Bradley knows something we don't, or Flint, or even Fira."</p> <p>Kai looked around at the interior of the car. "There aren't any cameras in here, you don't have to defend Overwatch's decisions if you don't want to."</p> <p>"I'm not <em>defending</em> anything. I'm just saying, there are a lot of possible explanations for why we're still open. What were you hoping to prove with a Hume reading anyway?"</p> <p>Now it was Kai's turn to shrug. "I don't know. It would tell me if there's anything to look for, at least."</p> <p>"I would imagine," Oliver narrowed his eyes, "that if there is some kind of… magic conspiracy, or whatever you're thinking of, and <em>we don't already know about it</em>, then maybe Overwatch wouldn't appreciate us trying to find out?"</p> <p>Kai sat back, and did not respond. The dead building stood across the asphalt from them, flanked by a handful of guards — they were mainly protecting files and furniture now, but those were still considered too valuable to leave fully unattended.</p> <p>Oliver sighed. "Look, we've both been on crisis response for the last four hours, and I for one do not have the energy to deal with this right now. Whatever it is you're concerned about, we can deal with it tomorrow."</p> <p>"Assuming we're still in charge by then." Kai raised an eyebrow. "Which we won't be if Bradley's back. Or Montalbini, or Flint."</p> <p>He stared straight ahead into the middle distance, took in a breath, and said quite matter-of-factly: "If Jeffrey Flint is here tomorrow, I'm going to hit him very hard somewhere with as many nerve endings as possible."</p> <hr/> <div class="s128"> <h2 id="toc10"><span>2016-08-04</span></h2> <h4 id="toc11"><span>07:32</span></h4> </div> <div class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> Dr. Oliver Memphis<br/> <strong>From:</strong> O5-6<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Site-128 Staffing Changes</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Director Memphis,</p> <p>Your report on the recent attack on Site-128 was received by Overwatch. Pending an investigation into the origins and exacerbating factors of this attack, the following personnel have been relieved of duty:</p> <ul> <li>Site Director Dr. M. Bradley</li> <li>Deputy Site Director L. Montalbini</li> <li>Chief of Security J. Flint</li> </ul> <p>All of the above individuals have been detained at Site-12.</p> <p>Your security credentials have been upgraded to Level 4 on a provisional basis.</p> <p>-O5-6</p> </div> <p>He stared at his phone.</p> <p>He had been awake for less than three minutes.</p> <p>Overnight, the O5 Council had apparently seen fit to appoint him as the chief executive of a facility that was empty, ruined, and entirely superfluous. He could understand the idea of appointing someone to the role for purely administrative reasons — though presumably an actual administrator would be more qualified for that — but the corresponding clearance bump seemed to imply that they were giving him a real job with actual responsibilities.</p> <p>Either they were planning something, or they were morons.</p> <hr/> <div class="s128"> <h4 id="toc12"><span>09:02</span></h4> </div> <p>"Alright, welcome to the first formal meeting of the What-The-Fuck-Is-Happening Society."</p> <p>The Site's semi-reshuffled management team was assembled in a huddle in the parking lot. Kai Lassila stood looking concerned — if he'd received a similar email to Oliver this morning, he hadn't yet mentioned it. Naomi Bains had been drafted as the new acting security chief, not that there was much left to secure, and Sara Doyle looked impatient to get back to fixing the building. Elia Fira had offered at short notice to come in and look for clues as to the origin or motive of the attack, and so they'd been brought into the meeting as well.</p> <p>"The rough version is as follows," explained Oliver. "After last night, I had assumed that Overwatch was going to either shut down the Site entirely, or send in some external administrator to manage it. Or just send Bradley back here and keep business running as normal. None of those are what actually happened. What actually happened was that O5 sent an email to 'Director Memphis' — no Acting — to say: one, we're suspending all of your superiors while we figure out if this was their fault; and two, here's a complimentary clearance upgrade. No further information."</p> <p>He glanced at Kai, who said nothing.</p> <p>"So you've unintentionally gone from researcher to co-Director to full Director in 16 hours?" Bains said.</p> <p>"Effectively, yes."</p> <p>"Did they actually ask if you wanted the job?" Kai finally spoke. "Or did they just throw it at you?" It was hard to tell whether he was jealous or relieved that Overwatch had seemingly chosen Oliver over him.</p> <p>"They did not ask."</p> <p>"Is it rude if I say I'm glad I'm not you right now?"</p> <p><em>That settles that, then.</em> "No, that's entirely reasonable. This is not a fun job, as you well know."</p> <p>"So… OK," said Bains. "What happens now?"</p> <p>"Well, that's what I wanted to discuss. Seeing as we are now the entire leadership of Site-128, I wanted to get your opinions on something. It's my personal view that this entire facility should be decommissioned as soon as possible. We've already had to move our entire anomalous inventory out of here, and I see no utility in fixing the place just so that we can move it all back in."</p> <p>"I'm with Ollie, in principle," said Kai. "This place was doing almost nothing before, and it's doing <em>actually</em> nothing now."</p> <p>Elia Fira spoke up. They seemed only half-present. "Suppose we did rebuild it. How long would that take?"</p> <p>"Several days until you can go inside without at least a hard hat," Sara Doyle replied flatly, "several weeks until it's how it was before."</p> <p>"And the cost?" asked Bains.</p> <p>"That's one for the CFO."</p> <p>"…who is in hospital right now," Oliver pointed out.</p> <p>Fira looked over at him. "Just to be clear, are you suggesting sending Overwatch a decommissioning proposal for your own Site?"</p> <p>"Uh, yes. Yes, I am," he smiled joylessly.</p> <p>"Wait, actually though," Kai muttered. "What were we saying yesterday? We were trying to figure out why they hadn't shut us down already, and we thought there might be some kind of Director's-eyes-only reason that we needed to stay open. Right? And obviously we wouldn't know if that were true, because none of us would be cleared for it."</p> <p>"Well, none of <em>us</em> would be cleared for it." Bains pointed at Oliver. "You would."</p> <p>"I would, if I could actually access anything. But seeing as we don't have any power right now, never mind a working terminal and SCiPNET connection… do we have an ETA on any of that?" He looked at Doyle expectantly.</p> <p>"Not today. <em>Maybe</em> tomorrow." She shook her head. "The electrics in this place were a rat's nest even before yesterday, it's going to be a nightmare getting anything working at all."</p> <p>"Hm. I'd like to move forward a bit faster than that. I might go to Site-12 and see if I can log into SCiPNET from there."</p> <p>"What do you want us doing in the meantime?" asked Fira.</p> <p>What <em>did</em> he want them doing? He thought about it for a moment. "Uh, you can go through whichever parts of the building are least dangerous right now, see if you can figure out anything about why the attack happened. Sara, keep working on getting the power back on. Naomi… keep making sure nobody steals eight boxes of files, I guess. And Deputy Director Lassila, you can draft up a decommissioning proposal, just so we're prepared."</p> <p>"Sorry, deputy what now?" Kai stared at him.</p> <p>"Well, someone here needs to be in charge if I'm out."</p> <p>"I don't want to be."</p> <p>"Neither do I!" He turned, as if to move towards his car, before Kai interrupted him.</p> <p>"<em>Wait</em>. Why are you so worried about rushing ahead with this?"</p> <p>That was a fair question, and it was one he'd considered at great length while failing to sleep the previous night. "OK. Briefly, how would you all describe this Site's previous leadership?"</p> <p>This wasn't a difficult question. He was talking about a Director who either rejected or ignored anything coming across her desk that would have required more than three minutes' work to deal with, a deputy who was an abject non-entity in nearly every regard, and a security chief who liked to solve problems by shouting at them whenever they occurred, and frequently when they did not.</p> <p>"Useless," said Doyle.</p> <p>"Negligent," added Bains.</p> <p>"Sometimes actively unhelpful," finished Fira.</p> <p>He nodded. "All of those are true. I would say, speaking more precisely, that what Bradley did as Director was a very bad and ineffective kind of firefighting. Just deal with whatever's right in front of you, and make it go away as quickly as possible — which in our case led to very little being in front of us, and very little happening. I would also say — and this is entirely my own theory, to be clear, I'm not a psychologist or a management consultant — but I would say that the attitude at the top filters down to everyone else. And when the attitude at the top is <em>that</em>, the culture at the entire Site becomes that kind of unhelpful firefighting. Not for everyone all the time, but on average that's how we've been operating for at least as long as I've worked here. We don't control events, we are dragged along by them. None of us are exempt from that, for the record, and I don't want to absolve myself of my share of the blame."</p> <p>Most of those assembled looked somewhere between confused and unimpressed. Sara Doyle was the only one who spoke: "You're saying Bradley was shit, so we ended up all being shit. Great. What's your point?"</p> <p>"My point is that Marie Bradley is not here any more, and we are not obligated to continue her approach. I want to actively <em>do something</em>, because the current situation does not benefit anyone in any way, and neither did the situation 24 hours ago. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and find out what the hell she knows that we don't, and if any of it explains why this facility still exists."</p> <hr/> <div class="s12"> <h5 id="toc13"><span>Site-12, Dartmoor, England</span></h5> </div> <p>The security staff at Site-12 seemed to be getting slightly peeved at the amount of 128's personnel and/or detritus they'd been sent since yesterday evening. The arrival of a man claiming to be its new Site Director, with a security badge that didn't match his system credentials, requesting the use of an empty office with a secure SCiPNET connection, did not immediately improve their mood. He'd called ahead beforehand and explained the whole situation as clearly as possible, but it seemed the duty officer hadn't got the memo. He made a mental note to avoid sending them any more staff if the shutdown went ahead.</p> <p><em>Oh well.</em> After much bureaucratic finagling, he'd finally been shoved into an unused corner office the size of a large storage cupboard, which suited him fine. All he needed was him, an enclosed space, and a terminal.</p> <p>Most of the files classified at Level 4 — at least those originating from Site-128 itself — were relatively mundane. Hiring papers, personnel records, administrative minutiae. He certainly couldn't find anything that pointed to 128 having some kind of vital, highly-confidential ulterior purpose. He did, however, find a file for something called "AO-95286", which might have been a misclassification. He couldn't recall an item with that number, and the idea of a minor anomalous object being classified Secret was bizarre to the point of absurdity.</p> <p>He opened it.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p><strong>Item No.:</strong> AO-95286</p> <p><strong>Location:</strong> Site-128, Containment Cell 31</p> <p>AO-95286 is a small bronze statuette resembling a lion. It will intermittently vocalise English sentences when a person is present; these sentences frequently contain information of scientific or tactical value to the Foundation. It must therefore be visited at least once per month by the Site Director, or other appropriately high-ranking personnel. The source of its information is currently unknown.</p> <p>Item will damage cameras, microphones and other electronic recording apparatus when in proximity to it, through an unclear mechanism. Such equipment must therefore be absent from its containment chamber.</p> <hr/> <p><em>Last updated 1995-09-27 by R_Sterling_128 (user inactive)</em></p> </div> <p><em>Bullshit.</em></p> <p>Richard Sterling had been the founding Site Director before Marie Bradley, up until his death in 2004. He had, apparently, written a document requiring him to enter a room once per month in which he would not be surveilled, in which nobody — theoretically including Overwatch — would know what he was doing.</p> <p>Oliver was reasonably certain that Containment Cell 31 did not exist.</p> <p>A quick check of the Site's floorplan confirmed this, more or less; there was no room anywhere labelled 'CC31', though there was a corridor adjacent to CC30 leading to a space approximately the size of a standard humanoid containment cell. It was labelled 'STORAGE'.</p> <hr/> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> got a new job for you<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> can you go inside and take a look at containment cell 30?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> specifically, the door immediately to the right of it<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Hold on<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> OK I'm here<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> The door just says storage, what am I looking for<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> can you go in?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Its locked<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> card reader or physical keyhole?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Might be both<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> oh brilliant<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> any other way in?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Nope<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> What's in there exactly<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> it's complicated, i'll tell you when i get back<br/></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p><em>So much for that.</em></p> <p>The file had apparently been written in late 1995. Had anything else happened around that time?</p> <p>It turned out that it had. Around a month prior, 128 had seized about half a ton of esoteric material from somewhere in Wales. That material had never been properly documented or even named — all the files just referred to it as some variation on "SCP-PENDING" — but it was apparently dark grey, slightly malleable, and possessed a number of thaumaturgic properties described in technical language that he only partially understood.</p> <p>It had also gone missing.</p> <p>The person responsible for this rare material had been the then-Deputy Director, a man named Lewis Flood, and his mishandling of it had been so egregious that he'd been summarily fired and quietly shipped off to a position at Site-333 where he couldn't do any damage. That was what the records said, at any rate; Oliver wasn't sure how much he trusted the records at this point, especially the ones written by Richard Sterling.</p> <hr/> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Can you check if we've ever hired a me ethicist<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Memeticist<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Fucking autocorrect<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> uh, ok<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> why?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Elia just found a box of files with a memetic contamination warning label<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Says to contact a specialist<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> I didn't think we had one of those<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> yeah, we don't<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> as far as i can tell we have never employed anyone with any kind of memetics qualifications<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> What the hell is that thing doing here then<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> i have no idea<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> i'll add that to my list of Weird Shit<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> You have a LIST?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> unfortunately yes<br/></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>Site-128's Level 4 filespace was only accessible by three people at any one time: the Director, the Deputy Director, and the Chief of Security. The most recent holders of these offices had clearly made no effort to organise anything in any meaningful way whatsoever, instead allowing the entire thing to collapse into a chaotic, unnavigable heap of assorted files. He got the distinct impression that nobody had actually read anything contained there for several years.</p> <p>He was attempting to review all of it in the space of one workday.</p> <p>Richard Sterling's personnel file was unhelpful — in fact, it seemed to be oddly thin on details — but he did manage to find one document written by Bradley shortly after his death, which had itself occurred only three months after Bradley had been promoted from obscure administrator to Deputy Director. It consisted of a one-paragraph summary followed by some mostly-blank <em>pro forma</em> garbage:</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>On 2004-06-28, Site-128 Director Dr. Richard Sterling was unexpectedly killed by a gas leak explosion at his private residence. At the request of several Foundation personnel, I am opening an investigation into the potentially-suspicious circumstances surrounding this incident.</p> </div> <p>If that investigation had ever produced any other documents whatsoever, or even concluded, there was no sign of it.</p> <p><em>Is that a cover-up, or just Bradley being her usual apathetic self?</em></p> <p>He could have gone and asked her, but thought better of it. Even if he was technically entitled to go more or less anywhere in the Site, he got the distinct impression that neither the people working here nor the O5 Council would be thrilled about him walking into a hospital ward to interview the subject of someone else's investigation.</p> <hr/> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Update, we found the kant counter<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> It was at the bottom of a filing cabinet in the admin wing<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> of course it was<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> And its giving me really weird readings<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> weird how?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Well it says the whole of 128 reads about 60 or 70% of baseline<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> are you sure it's not broken?<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Goes back to normal the moment you leave the site grounds<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>K_Lassila_128</strong><br/> Its this place specifically<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> huh<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> i'll see if i can requisition another counter to bring back anyway<br/></span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>O_Memphis_128</strong><br/> just in case yours is wrong<br/></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="s128"> <h2 id="toc14"><span>2016-08-05</span></h2> <h4 id="toc15"><span>09:23</span></h4> <h5 id="toc16"><span>Site-128, Somerset, England</span></h5> </div> <p>It wasn't wrong.</p> <p>Oliver stared as two separate Kant counters reported the exact same inexplicable figure. The entire facility was apparently covered by some kind of ontokinetic aura.</p> <p>"It gets worse," said Kai.</p> <p>"How?"</p> <p>"I checked to see if it's uniform across the Site, or if it's emanating from a particular point. It seems to be strongest around the centre-west part of the building."</p> <p>"And?"</p> <p>"Do you know what else is there?"</p> <hr/> <p>Against all odds, Sara had managed to restore power and lighting in a handful of less badly damaged areas late yesterday evening. All five of them, therefore, could see perfectly well what the young researcher was pointing at.</p> <p>A nondescript locked door, simply marked STORAGE.</p> <p>Kai looked down at the counter in his hands. "0.62. I'm sure it's coming from around here."</p> <p>"Do you want me to smash the door down?" Sara suggested helpfully.</p> <p>"I think I'd like to try something else first," replied Oliver.</p> <hr/> <p>One of the other more-or-less-functioning sectors was the security office. This was a blessing, as it contained 1) SCiPNET terminals, so none of them had to trudge eighty miles to Site-12 just to look at their own files, and 2) a keycard printer.</p> <p>"Didn't you say there was a physical lock on there as well?" asked Sara, as Oliver entered his credentials.</p> <p>"We've got lockpicking tools," Bains pointed out. She pulled open a filing cabinet and started rifling through drawers; behind her, the printer whirred into life and spat out a piece of plastic emblazoned with four orange stripes.</p> <p>The photo on the card had been taken when he'd first joined, four years ago — recent enough that he'd never once felt the need to update it. Then, he'd been a fresh-faced junior researcher; now, he was the Foundation's least experienced and least necessary Site Director.</p> <p><em>This,</em> he mused, <em>is probably not a typical career progression.</em></p> <hr/> <p>As expected, the card alone did not unlock the mystery storage room. It took Bains several minutes of wrangling with the keyhole to finally get the wretched thing fully open, at which point the five of them stepped into the unknown.</p> <p>A short hallway led to another door — this one did only need the card — behind which was a pristine cubic room. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made out of some uniformly dark matte metal, which didn't match any other containment chamber any of them had seen. <em>Maybe it's for soundproofing,</em> Oliver thought. In the centre was a wooden table with a single chair, on which was perched a hideous-looking lump of bronze vaguely resembling a lion.</p> <p>He picked it up briefly. "This thing," he announced, "is apparently classified at Level 4. File also says it ruins cameras if they get too close." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and snapped a photo of it. "The research work of our esteemed founding Director, everyone." He leaned down and spoke to the object. "Hello! Do you have any of that vital tactical information he mentioned?"</p> <p>The statue, being a statue, said nothing.</p> <p>"No? <em>Quelle surprise</em>. I think it's safe to assume that file might be wrong about a few things."</p> <p>"0.56," said Kai, still holding the borrowed Kant counter. "This room is the focal point."</p> <p>"I don't like it in here," Elia muttered. "This room gives me a weird feeling." Oliver knew what they were on about; there was a very faint but noticeable buzzing sensation in most of his body.</p> <p>"That might be the reality bending aura," replied Kai.</p> <p>Oliver shook his head. "Don't think so. It's not <em>that</em> much stronger in here than outside."</p> <p>"You got a better idea?" Kai leaned against one of the dark walls.</p> <p><em>The dark grey walls.</em></p> <p><em>Oh, no.</em></p> <p>"Yes, I have, actually," he said.</p> <p>"Go on."</p> <p>"I didn't get the chance to tell you about Dr. Flood, did I? He was Richard Sterling's deputy, or one of them. Discovered this brand new esoteric material, managed to seize half a ton of it from somewhere. Really thaumaturgically active and versatile, huge number of practical applications, in theory… and then it got lost."</p> <p>Bains looked skeptical. "How do you <em>lose</em> half a ton of previously-undiscovered material?"</p> <p>"That is a very, very good question. Because I'd say that, if it were still around somewhere, and especially considering the dates involved, there'd probably be about enough of it to make, oh…" he sucked in a breath through his teeth, "…one medium-sized containment chamber?"</p> <p>Nobody said anything.</p> <p>"Kai, just out of interest, did you finish writing that draft proposal yesterday?"</p> <p>"Yeah." Kai pulled up a document on his phone, and handed it to Oliver.</p> <div class="blockquote table2"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc17"><span>DECOMMISSIONING PROPOSAL</span></h2> </div> <p>WHEREAS Site-128 has suffered severe structural damage following the attack on the 3rd of August 2016, and will therefore remain essentially unusable for a period of several weeks at a minimum;</p> <p>WHEREAS, for the reasons cited above, the few anomalous items previously contained at Site-128 have all already been transferred to other facilities without further incident;</p> <p>WHEREAS Site-128's research operations have largely stagnated in recent years on account of a lack of resources, and of the limited amount of information that can be gathered from such a small number of anomalous subjects;</p> <p>WHEREAS Site-128's GoI monitoring operations have similarly stagnated, as the main group that the Site was originally established to monitor (<a href="/scp-6625">GoI-6625, "Holt Office Supplies</a>") has been defunct since 2004;</p> <p>WHEREAS there is no apparent strategic value in continuing to operate Site-128 at this location, as the nearest facility (Site-12) is already largely responsible for operations in southwest England, and has significantly greater MTF capabilities;</p> <p>WHEREAS Site-128 employs only 41 personnel, and its three formerly highest-ranking staff are under O5 investigation due to their being implicated in the aforementioned attack;</p> <p><strong>THEREFORE it is proposed that Site-128 be decommissioned with immediate effect, and its remaining personnel and assets be transferred to other Foundation facilities.</strong></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>Naomi Bains, Chief of Security, Site-128</em><br/> <em>Sara Doyle, Head of Maintenance and Facilities, Site-128</em><br/> <em>Dr. Elia Fira, Group of Interest Specialist, Site-128</em><br/> <em>Dr. Kai Lassila, Deputy Director, Site-128</em><br/> <em>Dr. Oliver Memphis, Director, Site-128</em></p> </div> </div> <p>He nodded. "We may need to rewrite this."</p> <hr/> <p>By the end of the day, the document had quadrupled in size. Kai's original draft had become just the executive summary of a three-part essay. The first section was a scathing indictment of Marie Bradley's Directorship, which Oliver had spent several hours wording extremely carefully; the second was a fairly pessimistic cost analysis of returning the Site to normal operations, which they'd need to get someone in Finance to sign off on as soon as they were able; and the third was an explanation of everything they'd found surrounding Richard Sterling. In addition to the complete closure of the Site, it now also called for either a new investigation into the old Director, or an expansion of Overwatch's existing one.</p> <p>It got five signatures with no objections.</p> <p>"What are you going to do if Overwatch rejects it?" asked Bains.</p> <p>He shrugged. "Overwatch is a vast and knowledgeable monolith," his voice dripped with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair, "and I'm an idiot they threw an awful job at. I can't be expected to fathom their motivations."</p> <hr/> <div class="s01"> <h2 id="toc18"><span>2016-08-08</span></h2> <h5 id="toc19"><span>Site-01, Undisclosed Location</span></h5> </div> <p>The chair was surprisingly comfortable. He wasn't.</p> <p>"Well, this isn't quite what we were expecting," said the singular silhouette, which was apparently named O5-6. <em>Could be worse,</em> thought Oliver. <em>They could have dragged me in front of all thirteen of them at once.</em></p> <p>"With regards to what?" he replied carefully.</p> <p>"When we appointed you as <em>interim Director</em>," said Six, "we rather assumed you were going to keep the Site running while our investigation went ahead, and not rock the boat to such an extent."</p> <p>He'd anticipated something like this. "With respect, sir, Marie Bradley spent her entire Directorship not rocking the boat, and now it has capsized. I was left to pick up the pieces, and I was not given any instructions as to how." He considered adding that the word 'interim' was nowhere to be found in Six's email, which seemed to imply that he had all the powers and responsibilities of a permanent officeholder, but thought better of it.</p> <p>"Yes, well, I'm not admonishing you by any means," <em>oh, how nice,</em> "but I would quite like to know how you found all this information so quickly."</p> <p>This, at least, was a relatively easy one. He'd more or less rehearsed it on the way here. "We started working on the decommissioning proposal the morning after the attack — that was my intention from the start. I had, however, considered the possibility that we'd been kept open not due to inertia, but because of some sort of secretive reason that I wasn't previously cleared to know about, so I spent a day looking through all the files that were marked Director's-eyes-only just to check. I didn't find any kind of secret <em>modus operandi</em>, but I did find most of what you see in Section 3 of that proposal. Dr. Lassila found the rest."</p> <p>"I see." Six's voice conveyed no hint as to whether or not this explanation convinced them. "The decommissioning proposal itself is quite reasonable, but you're also suggesting an investigation into a man who died twelve years ago?"</p> <p>"And who is connected to Containment Cell 31, which is apparently important enough that his deputy got fired over it," Oliver continued. "There is another interesting fact about that room, actually — it's not in the report because we only realised it yesterday."</p> <p>"And that is?"</p> <p>"OK. The attack on Site-128 looked essentially random. They were destroying equipment, blowing up walls, setting basically anything on fire, with one exception. After all the dust settled, the only part of the main building that was completely undamaged was the area around Cell 31."</p> <p>The silhouette shifted but did not reply, so he kept going. "I don't believe this attack was indiscriminate. I believe it was coordinated by someone who knew what was in that room — which means either Richard Sterling, Lewis Flood, or someone that one of them trusted. And it killed four people, so I'd quite like to know what they were trying to achieve in doing it." Oliver exhaled, and settled back in the chair.</p> <p>Three <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">hours</span> seconds later, Six said: "We'll take that under advisement."</p> <p>He nodded, not even knowing if the darkened entity could see it. "Thank you, sir."</p> <p>Almost as an afterthought, they added: "Have you given any thought to what you want to do after this? Supposing Site-128 were to be decommissioned, that is."</p> <p>There were a hundred ways to answer that, but anything but the least committal one felt inadvisable. "Not specifically, no. I've had a lot of other things on my mind."</p> <p>"Noted," said Six. "That will be all, Dr. Memphis."</p> <hr/> <div class="s128"> <h2 id="toc20"><span>2016-08-09</span></h2> <h5 id="toc21"><span>Site-128, Somerset, England</span></h5> </div> <div class="blockquote table3"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc22"><span>SITE-128 ALL-STAFF BULLETIN</span></h3> <p>Overwatch Command has ordered Site-128 decommissioned.</p> <p>All personnel will be transferred to other facilities in short order. Transfer requests are to be submitted to the Office of the Director by the 12th of August.</p> <p>Direct all queries to this office.</p> <p>We thank all staff at the Site for their service here.</p> </div> </div> <p>The announcement had to be sent from Oliver's phone, of course, but he still let Kai press 'send'. It felt right.</p> <p>They were exactly where they'd been six days earlier: in the back of a parked car, looking out at the destroyed shell of their soon-to-be-former workplace.</p> <p>"Obviously, you've got first choice of transfer location," said Kai.</p> <p>"Obviously."</p> <p>"Any ideas where you're going to go?"</p> <p>"A few," replied Oliver. "I need to mention something first, though."</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"O5 approved both parts of that proposal. The Sterling investigation's going ahead."</p> <p>"Oh, good."</p> <p>"But they don't want to do it internally, within Overwatch," he explained. "Something about allocation of resources, I think."</p> <p>Kai frowned. "Who <em>is</em> doing it, then?"</p> <p>"That would be me," Oliver grinned.</p> <p>The other man blinked. "Wait, really?"</p> <p>"The O5s trust me, or at least one of them does. Fuck knows why, but they do," he shrugged. "And they've given me… not quite a blanket authorisation, but something pretty close to one. Resources, transport, and also staff."</p> <p>"Staff," Kai nodded. "Interesting."</p> <p>"Now, I will note something. Obviously we'd want to be stationed somewhere near here, probably at Site-12, so we've got physical access to the building. <em>But</em>, I may want to interview Lewis Flood, who's in New Jersey, and maybe the GoI research group in Massachusetts, and possibly even some of the experts at 43. We'll probably want a North American office as well, is my point."</p> <p>Kai looked at him. "I… don't really want to move to America."</p> <p>"43's in Canada."</p> <p>"I don't want to move there either."</p> <p>"Fair enough," said Oliver. "Personally, I would prefer never to visit this place again, so I'm happy to let you handle this side of the operation."</p> <p>"Oh, so we're not actually working together?" He sounded surprised.</p> <p>"I mean, not physically, but we'll be coordinating. And depending on how deep this thing goes, I suspect one or both of us will end up bouncing between every Site in the world, so I'm sure we'll meet up at some point," he laughed. He hadn't laughed in a week.</p> <p>Kai didn't laugh with him.</p> <p>As before, it took a long time before either of them said anything. Finally, Kai stared straight ahead and muttered: "…so this is what change looks like. Action versus firefighting."</p> <p>"Yep."</p> <p>"I'm not used to it."</p> <p>Oliver sighed. "I don't think any of us are. Firefighting is stable, in a certain sense, and it's comfortable."</p> <p>"Mhm."</p> <p>"It also achieves nothing," he said bluntly. "And I'm bored of doing that."</p> <p>This time, Kai did laugh, if only briefly. "Well, Dr. Memphis, it's been a… pleasure? I think? You've made the last four years tolerable, let's leave it at that."</p> <p>Considering where the last four years had been spent, that ranked as a generous compliment. "The same to you, Dr. Lassila," he smiled.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>To be continued</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="/the-fall-of-site-128">The Fall of Site-128</a>" by OliverMemphis, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-fall-of-site-128">https://scpwiki.com/the-fall-of-site-128</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>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --timeDelay: 0.5s; --problem: 255, 109, 0; --head-font: Lexend; --page-font-size: 0.9rem; a.collapsible-block-link:not(.licensebox a.collapsible-block-link) { font-weight: 600; color: white; padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 9px; background: rgb(20, 20, 20); border-radius: 6px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; } [[/module]] [[module css]] :root{ --header-subtitle: "SECURE \| CONTAIN \| PROTECT"; } div#extra-div-1 { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6625/logoblue.png); filter: opacity(100%); } [[/module]] [[module css]] .email-example .collapsible-block-folded a.collapsible-block-link { animation: blink 0.8s ease-in-out infinite alternate; } @keyframes blink { 0% { color: transparent; } 50%, 100% { color: #b01; } } .email {border: solid 2px #000000; width: 88%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.5)} .email-example a.collapsible-block-link {font-weight: bold;} .tofrom {margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 1px 15px; border-left: solid 3px maroon} @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Roboto+Slab&display=swap'); .ao {font-family:'Roboto Slab';} .om {color:#0000FF;} .kl {color:#008800;} [[/module]] [[module css]] .s128 :is(h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6) { text-align: center; color: #00658E; } .s01 :is(h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6) { text-align: center; color: #5800BC; } .s12 :is(h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6) { text-align: center; color: #007750; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[div style="text-align:center"]] The Fall of Site-128 Author: [[user OliverMemphis]] Something must be done; this is something, therefore we must do it. [[[not-actually-from-memphis \|More by this author]]]* [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:betterfootnotes">:scp-wiki:component:betterfootnotes</a>]] [[div style="center no-repeat ; float: center; border: solid 2px #000000; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px 10px 10px 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[f<image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/secure-facility-dossier-site-43/Logo.png width="140px"]] [[=]] + SCP Foundation Secure Facility Dossier (Abridged) +++ Research and Containment Site-128 Site Identification Code: GBSWCB-Site-128 [[/=]] ------ [[=]] ++ General Information [[/=]] Site Function: Site-128 is a small research and containment facility, focused on storing Safe-class objects and minor anomalous ephemera, alongside monitoring low-level GoI activity within southern England. Founded: 27 May, 1989 Founding Director: Dr. Richard Sterling Location: Somerset, England Cover Story: Schmitz-Corsham Processing (refuse management centre) Size: 8000 m² ------ [[=]] ++ Site Overview [[/=]] Site-128 was originally established to monitor an anomalous retailer known as Holt Office Supplies, which operated numerous outlets and ventures in southern England throughout much of the 1980s and 90s. Its operations have since shifted to cover the storage of low-risk anomalies, general GoI monitoring in the region, and some academic work on theoretical parastatistics. Site-128 is currently the smallest Foundation facility in the British Isles, and remains among the smallest in the world. For this reason, it has retained a relatively low profile within the organisation since its founding, and is unable to take on projects with particularly high budgetary or personnel requirements. ----- [[=]] ++ Staffing Information [[/=]] On-Site Personnel: 44 Site Director: Dr. Marie S. Bradley Deputy Director: Lorenzo Montalbini Chief of Security: Jeffrey R. Flint Senior Researchers: Dr. Kai L. Lassila, Dr. Oliver Q. Memphis GoI Specialist: Dr. Elia Fira Head of Maintenance: Sara Doyle Chief Medical Officer: Dr. Blake R. Turner [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="s128"]] ++ 2016-08-03 ++++ 16:53 +++++ Site-128, Somerset, England [[/div]] Oliver Memphis's job did not involve reviewing the Secure Facility Dossier. He was doing it anyway, because with every passing week he became less and less sure what precisely his job did involve. He knew what his job was //called// -- he was a Senior Researcher at Site-128 -- but why such a position was in any way required remained a continuing mystery. The five SCP objects for which the Site was responsible, as of now, possessed no significant scientific or strategic value of any kind. No useful or interesting data had emanated from the facility in months, if not years. The parastats work, which he was supposed to be writing a fairly unremarkable paper on, had been stymied by the fact that he needed data from other Sites -- all of whom had ignored his emails. The dossier was far too diplomatically-phrased to use words like "stagnant", "redundant" or "shithole", which Oliver considered a shame. It might have got them shut down, and the sooner that happened, the sooner he would have a chance of transferring somewhere more interesting. "Do we have a Kant counter?" came the voice from across his desk. Oliver looked up from his monitor. "I think so. Should be in storage somewhere. Why, what do you want to use it for?" "The Site." The office was in keeping with the Foundation's conventional aesthetic, in that it was a windowless white box with austere furnishings and negligible decoration. The desk faced a blank wall, which made it a good spot for staring into the middle distance -- a popular activity, given the quantity of actual work required of him. He was currently filling time, as he often did, by chatting to Kai Lassila, 128's other Senior Researcher -- the fact that it needed //one// of those was odd, but two was frankly baffling -- about whatever was going on at any one of the myriad more exciting facilities operated by the SCP Foundation. The places that weren't where research went to die. "What do you mean, you want to use it for the Site?" He attempted to raise one eyebrow and failed, so opted to just furrow them both instead. Kai looked at him from across the desk. "I want to take the Humes of the entire Site," he explained, "because I don't see any other reason for--" He found himself interrupted by a distant crashing sound, followed two seconds later by a notably less distant one. The room jolted in what could have been an earthquake -- if earthquakes were the kind of thing that happened in southwest England, which broadly speaking they were not -- and then the lights snapped out, leaving the windowless office bathed only in the dim green glow of a single emergency exit sign. "Um." Before either of them could fully process what was happening, sound began to erupt from the little radio on the desk. There seemed to be at least four people talking at once, and it was impossible to make out more than a handful of words over the crosstalk and background noise: //"—emergency—"// //"—calling Security Chief Flint—"// //"—please advise—"// //"—north side of the building—"// //"—status on the Director—"// //"—hostiles, unknown number—"// They heard gunfire downstairs, and the little radio nearly blew out its speakers as it dutifully tried to relay the noise. There was some sort of general commotion about three metres below their feet, and Kai suddenly wondered if this dark and airless office was the exact best place for him to be right now. "What should--" "Shh." Oliver pointed to the radio, before grabbing a flashlight and a pad of paper out of a drawer. Kai picked up a green pen and wrote: [[span class="kl"]]EVACUATE OR SHELTER HERE?[[/span]] Oliver listened to the incoherent shouting on the radio, considered for a moment, and then replied: [[span class="om"]]HERE -- DOOR LOCKS FROM INSIDE[[/span]] Once he'd got up, locked the door and sat back down, Kai was writing again: [[span class="kl"]]CONTAINMENT BREACH???[[/span]] The confusion was entirely reasonable. 128 had no Keters, no humanoid anomalies, and essentially no potential for a containment breach to occur, especially not one as destructive as this. The alternative, Oliver realised, was much worse. [[span class="om"]]SOMETHING'S TRYING TO GET __IN__, NOT OUT[[/span]] Neither of them kept track of how long they stayed inside; it could just as easily have been thirty minutes as thirty seconds. Given that the attackers had seemingly managed to enter the building, the chances of one office door blocking their passage seemed low to negligible, but in the absence of any alternatives they stayed still and silent. After a seemingly interminable amount of shouting and general panic, the crosstalk began to subside. Oliver picked up the radio, gingerly pressed the button with one thumb, and spoke as calmly as he could manage: "Memphis to 128 actual, requesting situation report." The response came quickly, though it wasn't the Director's voice. "Dr. Memphis? Can you come to the front of the building, please?" As though it understood the concept of comedic timing, the floor gave way. ----- The fall wasn't far. This was partly down to the building's haphazard architecture, which had helpfully placed his office directly above a small room with a low ceiling; mainly, however, it was because all four walls of said room had been at least partially smashed through, with the resulting rubble piled up where they landed. Kai stood up, dazed, and looked around the newly-open plan space. Every visible surface seemed to feature an assortment of bullet holes, scorch marks and exposed wiring. Smoke was emanating from several different corridors at once, and he could see outside -- not because there happened to be a window there, but because there was now a sudden vacancy for the job of exterior north wall. "What did they //do//." He realised his eyes were itching. "I think that part's fairly clear," Oliver muttered, before walking away without another word. They both moved towards the brand new exit, which looked for all the world like a truck had smashed directly into the structure, before reversing out again and driving off. Oliver tried very hard not to think about what kind of vehicle might have been able to do that, just like he tried not to think about why there were bodies on the ground, or what the crumpled metal object on the floor was supposed to be, or the fact that if he couldn't see the fire from where he was then it was almost certainly coming from the main admin wing, or who the bodies on the ground were, or why everyone seemed to be waiting there for them and them specifically, or why the maintenance chief was rushing over to look at the crumpled metal thing, or why everything looked to be completely bullet-riddled, or where the Director was, or where the security chief was, or why he was still standing stock-still inside the building even though the roof was probably close to caving in, or who— "Dr. Memphis?" The voice calling from outside snapped him out of his trance, and he ran over to its source: a security guard named Bains. "Were we attacked?" he asked flatly. "...yes. Did you not notice?" Bains replied incredulously. "I was stuck in my office the whole time. Just assume I know nothing. Where's Bradley?" "Unconscious. Smoke inhalation. So's Montalbini." Oliver opened his mouth, but no words came out, so the guard continued. "And Flint's gone AWOL." He was about to ask the obvious next question, and then realised he knew the answer already. [[div class="blockquote table2"]] --Site Director: Dr. Marie S. Bradley-- --Deputy Director: Lorenzo Montalbini-- --Chief of Security: Jeffrey R. Flint-- //Senior Researchers: Dr. Kai L. Lassila, Dr. Oliver Q. Memphis// GoI Specialist: Dr. Elia Fira Head of Maintenance: Sara Doyle Chief Medical Officer: Dr. Blake R. Turner [[/div]] "Kai?" he called. The other man jogged over. "What?" Oliver spoke quietly through gritted teeth. "We appear to be in charge of the Site." ----- Site-128 had a full staff complement of around forty or fifty. The minority of these people who possessed any training whatsoever in first aid, building maintenance or general crisis response were helping out in whatever way they could, while the remainder were steadily rounded up by one of the Acting Co-Directors to stop them getting in the way. "Everyone into the parking lot, please! Everyone without response duties, give us some space!" Kai shouted ineffectually. He wasn't used to projecting his voice, especially not into a crowd of confused and frightened staff all murmuring amongst themselves. He turned to Bains. "Do we have a bullhorn or something?" She pointed at the ruined building. "In there." "Oh, terrific." ----- "Specialist Campaign Polling," came a pleasant voice through Oliver's phone. "How can I help?" He was standing as far away from the madding crowd as possible, on the opposite side of the building. It was the closest currently-available approximation to peace and quiet. "Hello, could I speak to Chris Romero in Quality Control, please?" he said, hoping he'd remembered the code phrase correctly. "Which office, Boston or Seattle?" "Lisbon." "Just a moment, please." There was no hold music while his call was transferred, just a faint dial tone. ----- "We need these people out of here," explained Blake Turner. He was attending to a collection of people clustered around the least-damaged part of the Site, all in various states of serious injury. "We don't have the facilities or staff to treat them all here, and that's assuming the medical wing were actually usable. Which it's not." Kai did some mental maths. The nearest facility was Site-12, around eighty miles away. A Foundation helicopter could get there quickly enough, but this place only had one, and it couldn't accommodate all of these people at once. They might end up needing the help of every Site in the country. ----- A different voice came through. "Overwatch crisis response. State your location, situation and code phrase." "Site-128. Emergency code Bravo-3. Memphis beta twenty-eight giml blueprint Taliesin." Another pause. "Copy that. Give me a detailed report." He launched into his hastily-prepared monologue. "OK, we've been attacked by... around fifteen individuals. Two of them are captured, and we believe the rest are dead, so there's no //immediate// danger, but they caused a lot of damage. Seems they rammed a truck straight into the building, multiple times, and then just started shooting and setting things on fire. No idea who they were or what they were hoping to achieve, but we have, I believe, nine staff currently injured or unconscious, including the Director and her deputy. Several of those will need medical attention off-Site somewhere, because we do not have the ability to provide it right now. The building is half-destroyed, has no power, and may be in imminent danger of collapse... oh, and our Chief of Security, who should be the Acting Director right now, is missing." As he was speaking, Kai ran over and pointed at the segregated area where their single helicopter -- having somehow survived the attack undamaged -- was kept. He brought his hand up into the air, then down towards the ground, then held up ten fingers, then two. "So we'll need logistical help from Site-12," Oliver finished. Kai tapped his wrist, and he added: "Urgently." ----- Sara Doyle was attempting to investigate what remained of the building, whilst making sure none of it fell on her head or entered her lungs. She didn't really have the mental space to answer Kai's questions at the same time, but she tried to entertain him anyway. "I have no idea how long it'll be until we're operational," the maintenance chief explained. "Right now, I wouldn't even let anyone inside without PPE. Probably stay that way for a few days, minimum." She picked up an unidentifiable chunk of metal and presented it to him. "This was the main fuse box. We're only gonna get power back once this entire area gets rewired." She dropped the mangled box on the ground, and gestured broadly at the missing wall. "Does that give you an idea?" This news was not cheerful. "Any containment compromised?" he asked. It was mostly an irrelevant question, since none of their anomalous items actually required any containment measures beyond leaving them in a locked cupboard somewhere, but it was the only one he could think to ask. "Aside from the fact that anyone can just walk inside, you mean? I don't know," Doyle said firmly, "because all the anomalies are stored in the middle of the building, and //we can't go in there to check on them.//" "I'll put that down as a 'no'," Kai replied. "I think we've got enough problems for now." ----- Oliver had been shunted over to the switchboard of the Site-12 logistics office. He wasn't precisely sure what the person he'd spoken to at Overwatch was supposed to be doing, but he hoped it was something useful. "This is Acting Director Oliver Memphis from Site-128," he explained. "We have nine Foundation personnel requiring urgent transfer to your facility for emergency medical care, and we only have the capacity to move two of them." The person on the other end frowned. Oliver couldn't see it, of course, because they were just a voice, but he could tell. "For what reason?" "Bravo-3. We got attacked, and so our own medical wing is completely unusable right now. We have some high-ranking personnel unconscious, and we need any logistical help you can offer in getting them to you." He wondered how many more people he was going to have to explain the current predicament to. //Maybe I should just learn this script by rote.// ----- Their own helicopter had departed with the Director and her deputy on board, and several more were apparently on their way from Dartmoor. Following that, some more security-ish personnel were scheduled to arrive -- neither Kai nor Oliver had been told from where -- to pick up all of their unwanted visitors both dead and alive, and take them somewhere where they were no longer 128's problem. The support staff were handling things as well as they could, and it seemed that trying to get anyone else to lend a hand would turn the whole mess into a too-many-cooks situation. There was therefore nothing left to do except wait, and so Kai was preparing to send most of the staff home. He wanted to talk to one of them first, though. 128 had been founded to monitor Groups of Interest operating in the area, and this remained some of the only legitimate work it still did. The majority of said work was done by one person, who was standing off to one side with their head in their hands. In Elia Fira's case, this either meant they were deep in thought, or trying to block out every detail of their surroundings. Possibly both. "Any ideas who this was?" asked Kai. They shook their head. "Not a clue. Don't know anyone that operates like this. Except maybe the CI, but they usually wear their logo. These guys had no insignia." "Not even all uniformed," Kai muttered. Fira looked over at him. "Yeah, they were. All in tactical gear, just unmarked tactical gear." Now it was Kai's turn to shake his head. "Not all of them. I saw three or four in plain clothes." He pointed towards the corner of the building where the bodies had been dumped. "Why would only four of them be in plain clothes?" Before Kai could respond, he noticed the rusted south fence near one of the utterly obliterated external buildings. It backed onto a hedge, which in turn backed onto an open field where anyone could be walking -- and he was fairly sure it hadn't been touched by the attackers, it had always had that hole in it... "Oh, //fuck//." Kai didn't finish the thought out loud. //Those were [[[scp-6495\| civilians]]].// ----- Kai strode around the building towards Oliver's hiding spot. "Not my problem," he muttered to himself. "I'll tell him, and he'll tell someone else, and it will be their problem and not mine, and I don't have to think about it." He didn't stop thinking about it. ----- [[div class="s128"]] ++++ 20:46 [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote table3"]] [[=]] +++ SITE-128 ALL-STAFF BULLETIN Site-128 will be closed to all personnel until further notice, except those responsible for security or building maintenance. Further information will be provided when available. [[/=]] [[/div]] "Sent," said Kai as he tapped his phone. The two of them had chosen to make this announcement for the same reason they were sat in the back of Oliver's car instead of in an office: Sara Doyle had told them in no uncertain terms that the building was not fit for human occupancy, and would not be for several days at a bare minimum. They both sat in silence. Eventually, Oliver spoke. "What were you saying earlier? About measuring the Site's Hume levels?" Kai looked over at him. "Do you think they're going to shut down 128 after this?" Oliver stared out of the window across the nearly-deserted parking lot, squinting at the empty husk of the building under the slowly-dimming sunlight. "Wouldn't surprise me." "Why do you think it took them this long?" Oliver shrugged. "Probably the same reason they haven't closed 333 yet. Decomming a Site is a lot of work, and even the ones that look useless now might be important in the future. Don't want to close a place down and then only realise you need it a couple years later. Same goes for 246, considering how old it is. Or... I think even Area-21 mostly exists as a formality these days." "Area-21 does //something//. It's still used as a testing ground for AcroAbate research. Site-333 does //something//, even if they've got the most incompetent administrators on the planet. What do we have? Five skips, if I'm counting right, plus a bunch of minor anomalous objects that no-one cares about. None of them are hard to contain, and we've had them all for so long that we basically know everything there is to know about them. And they're not even here any more." Everything anomalous had been moved out of the building as a precautionary measure, since it now possessed the containment capabilities of a damp paper bag. "We've got twelve research staff, total, and they're doing 20% theoretical parastats and 80% meaningless data collection." "I see where you're going with this," Oliver replied, "but just to play devil's advocate: what about strategic value?" "Well, what about it? Do we have any?" "Not that I'm aware of, but it's entirely possible there's... I don't know, some stuff way above my clearance level that means we need to have a facility right here. Maybe Bradley knows something we don't, or Flint, or even Fira." Kai looked around at the interior of the car. "There aren't any cameras in here, you don't have to defend Overwatch's decisions if you don't want to." "I'm not //defending// anything. I'm just saying, there are a lot of possible explanations for why we're still open. What were you hoping to prove with a Hume reading anyway?" Now it was Kai's turn to shrug. "I don't know. It would tell me if there's anything to look for, at least." "I would imagine," Oliver narrowed his eyes, "that if there is some kind of... magic conspiracy, or whatever you're thinking of, and //we don't already know about it//, then maybe Overwatch wouldn't appreciate us trying to find out?" Kai sat back, and did not respond. The dead building stood across the asphalt from them, flanked by a handful of guards -- they were mainly protecting files and furniture now, but those were still considered too valuable to leave fully unattended. Oliver sighed. "Look, we've both been on crisis response for the last four hours, and I for one do not have the energy to deal with this right now. Whatever it is you're concerned about, we can deal with it tomorrow." "Assuming we're still in charge by then." Kai raised an eyebrow. "Which we won't be if Bradley's back. Or Montalbini, or Flint." He stared straight ahead into the middle distance, took in a breath, and said quite matter-of-factly: "If Jeffrey Flint is here tomorrow, I'm going to hit him very hard somewhere with as many nerve endings as possible." ----- [[div class="s128"]] ++ 2016-08-04 ++++ 07:32 [[/div]] [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: Dr. Oliver Memphis From: O5-6 Subject: Site-128 Staffing Changes [[/div]] ------ Director Memphis, Your report on the recent attack on Site-128 was received by Overwatch. Pending an investigation into the origins and exacerbating factors of this attack, the following personnel have been relieved of duty: * Site Director Dr. M. Bradley * Deputy Site Director L. Montalbini * Chief of Security J. Flint All of the above individuals have been detained at Site-12. Your security credentials have been upgraded to Level 4 on a provisional basis. -O5-6 [[/div]] He stared at his phone. He had been awake for less than three minutes. Overnight, the O5 Council had apparently seen fit to appoint him as the chief executive of a facility that was empty, ruined, and entirely superfluous. He could understand the idea of appointing someone to the role for purely administrative reasons -- though presumably an actual administrator would be more qualified for that -- but the corresponding clearance bump seemed to imply that they were giving him a real job with actual responsibilities. Either they were planning something, or they were morons. ----- [[div class="s128"]] ++++ 09:02 [[/div]] "Alright, welcome to the first formal meeting of the What-The-Fuck-Is-Happening Society." The Site's semi-reshuffled management team was assembled in a huddle in the parking lot. Kai Lassila stood looking concerned -- if he'd received a similar email to Oliver this morning, he hadn't yet mentioned it. Naomi Bains had been drafted as the new acting security chief, not that there was much left to secure, and Sara Doyle looked impatient to get back to fixing the building. Elia Fira had offered at short notice to come in and look for clues as to the origin or motive of the attack, and so they'd been brought into the meeting as well. "The rough version is as follows," explained Oliver. "After last night, I had assumed that Overwatch was going to either shut down the Site entirely, or send in some external administrator to manage it. Or just send Bradley back here and keep business running as normal. None of those are what actually happened. What actually happened was that O5 sent an email to 'Director Memphis' -- no Acting -- to say: one, we're suspending all of your superiors while we figure out if this was their fault; and two, here's a complimentary clearance upgrade. No further information." He glanced at Kai, who said nothing. "So you've unintentionally gone from researcher to co-Director to full Director in 16 hours?" Bains said. "Effectively, yes." "Did they actually ask if you wanted the job?" Kai finally spoke. "Or did they just throw it at you?" It was hard to tell whether he was jealous or relieved that Overwatch had seemingly chosen Oliver over him. "They did not ask." "Is it rude if I say I'm glad I'm not you right now?" //That settles that, then.// "No, that's entirely reasonable. This is not a fun job, as you well know." "So... OK," said Bains. "What happens now?" "Well, that's what I wanted to discuss. Seeing as we are now the entire leadership of Site-128, I wanted to get your opinions on something. It's my personal view that this entire facility should be decommissioned as soon as possible. We've already had to move our entire anomalous inventory out of here, and I see no utility in fixing the place just so that we can move it all back in." "I'm with Ollie, in principle," said Kai. "This place was doing almost nothing before, and it's doing //actually// nothing now." Elia Fira spoke up. They seemed only half-present. "Suppose we did rebuild it. How long would that take?" "Several days until you can go inside without at least a hard hat," Sara Doyle replied flatly, "several weeks until it's how it was before." "And the cost?" asked Bains. "That's one for the CFO." "...who is in hospital right now," Oliver pointed out. Fira looked over at him. "Just to be clear, are you suggesting sending Overwatch a decommissioning proposal for your own Site?" "Uh, yes. Yes, I am," he smiled joylessly. "Wait, actually though," Kai muttered. "What were we saying yesterday? We were trying to figure out why they hadn't shut us down already, and we thought there might be some kind of Director's-eyes-only reason that we needed to stay open. Right? And obviously we wouldn't know if that were true, because none of us would be cleared for it." "Well, none of //us// would be cleared for it." Bains pointed at Oliver. "You would." "I would, if I could actually access anything. But seeing as we don't have any power right now, never mind a working terminal and SCiPNET connection... do we have an ETA on any of that?" He looked at Doyle expectantly. "Not today. //Maybe// tomorrow." She shook her head. "The electrics in this place were a rat's nest even before yesterday, it's going to be a nightmare getting anything working at all." "Hm. I'd like to move forward a bit faster than that. I might go to Site-12 and see if I can log into SCiPNET from there." "What do you want us doing in the meantime?" asked Fira. What //did// he want them doing? He thought about it for a moment. "Uh, you can go through whichever parts of the building are least dangerous right now, see if you can figure out anything about why the attack happened. Sara, keep working on getting the power back on. Naomi... keep making sure nobody steals eight boxes of files, I guess. And Deputy Director Lassila, you can draft up a decommissioning proposal, just so we're prepared." "Sorry, deputy what now?" Kai stared at him. "Well, someone here needs to be in charge if I'm out." "I don't want to be." "Neither do I!" He turned, as if to move towards his car, before Kai interrupted him. "//Wait//. Why are you so worried about rushing ahead with this?" That was a fair question, and it was one he'd considered at great length while failing to sleep the previous night. "OK. Briefly, how would you all describe this Site's previous leadership?" This wasn't a difficult question. He was talking about a Director who either rejected or ignored anything coming across her desk that would have required more than three minutes' work to deal with, a deputy who was an abject non-entity in nearly every regard, and a security chief who liked to solve problems by shouting at them whenever they occurred, and frequently when they did not. "Useless," said Doyle. "Negligent," added Bains. "Sometimes actively unhelpful," finished Fira. He nodded. "All of those are true. I would say, speaking more precisely, that what Bradley did as Director was a very bad and ineffective kind of firefighting. Just deal with whatever's right in front of you, and make it go away as quickly as possible -- which in our case led to very little being in front of us, and very little happening. I would also say -- and this is entirely my own theory, to be clear, I'm not a psychologist or a management consultant -- but I would say that the attitude at the top filters down to everyone else. And when the attitude at the top is //that//, the culture at the entire Site becomes that kind of unhelpful firefighting. Not for everyone all the time, but on average that's how we've been operating for at least as long as I've worked here. We don't control events, we are dragged along by them. None of us are exempt from that, for the record, and I don't want to absolve myself of my share of the blame." Most of those assembled looked somewhere between confused and unimpressed. Sara Doyle was the only one who spoke: "You're saying Bradley was shit, so we ended up all being shit. Great. What's your point?" "My point is that Marie Bradley is not here any more, and we are not obligated to continue her approach. I want to actively //do something//, because the current situation does not benefit anyone in any way, and neither did the situation 24 hours ago. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and find out what the hell she knows that we don't, and if any of it explains why this facility still exists." ----- [[div class="s12"]] +++++ Site-12, Dartmoor, England [[/div]] The security staff at Site-12 seemed to be getting slightly peeved at the amount of 128's personnel and/or detritus they'd been sent since yesterday evening. The arrival of a man claiming to be its new Site Director, with a security badge that didn't match his system credentials, requesting the use of an empty office with a secure SCiPNET connection, did not immediately improve their mood. He'd called ahead beforehand and explained the whole situation as clearly as possible, but it seemed the duty officer hadn't got the memo. He made a mental note to avoid sending them any more staff if the shutdown went ahead. //Oh well.// After much bureaucratic finagling, he'd finally been shoved into an unused corner office the size of a large storage cupboard, which suited him fine. All he needed was him, an enclosed space, and a terminal. Most of the files classified at Level 4 -- at least those originating from Site-128 itself -- were relatively mundane. Hiring papers, personnel records, administrative minutiae. He certainly couldn't find anything that pointed to 128 having some kind of vital, highly-confidential ulterior purpose. He did, however, find a file for something called "AO-95286", which might have been a misclassification. He couldn't recall an item with that number, and the idea of a minor anomalous object being classified Secret was bizarre to the point of absurdity. He opened it. [[div class="blockquote"]] Item No.: AO-95286 Location: Site-128, Containment Cell 31 AO-95286 is a small bronze statuette resembling a lion. It will intermittently vocalise English sentences when a person is present; these sentences frequently contain information of scientific or tactical value to the Foundation. It must therefore be visited at least once per month by the Site Director, or other appropriately high-ranking personnel. The source of its information is currently unknown. Item will damage cameras, microphones and other electronic recording apparatus when in proximity to it, through an unclear mechanism. Such equipment must therefore be absent from its containment chamber. ----- //Last updated 1995-09-27 by R_Sterling_128 (user inactive)// [[/div]] //Bullshit.// Richard Sterling had been the founding Site Director before Marie Bradley, up until his death in 2004. He had, apparently, written a document requiring him to enter a room once per month in which he would not be surveilled, in which nobody -- theoretically including Overwatch -- would know what he was doing. Oliver was reasonably certain that Containment Cell 31 did not exist. A quick check of the Site's floorplan confirmed this, more or less; there was no room anywhere labelled 'CC31', though there was a corridor adjacent to CC30 leading to a space approximately the size of a standard humanoid containment cell. It was labelled 'STORAGE'. ----- [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 got a new job for you [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 can you go inside and take a look at containment cell 30? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 specifically, the door immediately to the right of it [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Hold on [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 OK I'm here [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 The door just says storage, what am I looking for [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 can you go in? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Its locked [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 card reader or physical keyhole? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Might be both [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 oh brilliant [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 any other way in? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Nope [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 What's in there exactly [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 it's complicated, i'll tell you when i get back [[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- //So much for that.// The file had apparently been written in late 1995. Had anything else happened around that time? It turned out that it had. Around a month prior, 128 had seized about half a ton of esoteric material from somewhere in Wales. That material had never been properly documented or even named -- all the files just referred to it as some variation on "SCP-PENDING" -- but it was apparently dark grey, slightly malleable, and possessed a number of thaumaturgic properties described in technical language that he only partially understood. It had also gone missing. The person responsible for this rare material had been the then-Deputy Director, a man named Lewis Flood, and his mishandling of it had been so egregious that he'd been summarily fired and quietly shipped off to a position at Site-333 where he couldn't do any damage. That was what the records said, at any rate; Oliver wasn't sure how much he trusted the records at this point, especially the ones written by Richard Sterling. ----- [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Can you check if we've ever hired a me ethicist [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Memeticist [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Fucking autocorrect [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 uh, ok [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 why? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Elia just found a box of files with a memetic contamination warning label [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Says to contact a specialist [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 I didn't think we had one of those [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 yeah, we don't [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 as far as i can tell we have never employed anyone with any kind of memetics qualifications [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 What the hell is that thing doing here then [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 i have no idea [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 i'll add that to my list of Weird Shit [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 You have a LIST? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 unfortunately yes [[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- Site-128's Level 4 filespace was only accessible by three people at any one time: the Director, the Deputy Director, and the Chief of Security. The most recent holders of these offices had clearly made no effort to organise anything in any meaningful way whatsoever, instead allowing the entire thing to collapse into a chaotic, unnavigable heap of assorted files. He got the distinct impression that nobody had actually read anything contained there for several years. He was attempting to review all of it in the space of one workday. Richard Sterling's personnel file was unhelpful -- in fact, it seemed to be oddly thin on details -- but he did manage to find one document written by Bradley shortly after his death, which had itself occurred only three months after Bradley had been promoted from obscure administrator to Deputy Director. It consisted of a one-paragraph summary followed by some mostly-blank //pro forma// garbage: [[div class="blockquote"]] On 2004-06-28, Site-128 Director Dr. Richard Sterling was unexpectedly killed by a gas leak explosion at his private residence. At the request of several Foundation personnel, I am opening an investigation into the potentially-suspicious circumstances surrounding this incident. [[/div]] If that investigation had ever produced any other documents whatsoever, or even concluded, there was no sign of it. //Is that a cover-up, or just Bradley being her usual apathetic self?// He could have gone and asked her, but thought better of it. Even if he was technically entitled to go more or less anywhere in the Site, he got the distinct impression that neither the people working here nor the O5 Council would be thrilled about him walking into a hospital ward to interview the subject of someone else's investigation. ----- [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Update, we found the kant counter [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 It was at the bottom of a filing cabinet in the admin wing [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 of course it was [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 And its giving me really weird readings [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 weird how? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Well it says the whole of 128 reads about 60 or 70% of baseline [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 are you sure it's not broken? [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Goes back to normal the moment you leave the site grounds [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]K_Lassila_128 Its this place specifically [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 huh [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 i'll see if i can requisition another counter to bring back anyway [[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]O_Memphis_128 just in case yours is wrong [[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="s128"]] ++ 2016-08-05 ++++ 09:23 +++++ Site-128, Somerset, England [[/div]] It wasn't wrong. Oliver stared as two separate Kant counters reported the exact same inexplicable figure. The entire facility was apparently covered by some kind of ontokinetic aura. "It gets worse," said Kai. "How?" "I checked to see if it's uniform across the Site, or if it's emanating from a particular point. It seems to be strongest around the centre-west part of the building." "And?" "Do you know what else is there?" ----- Against all odds, Sara had managed to restore power and lighting in a handful of less badly damaged areas late yesterday evening. All five of them, therefore, could see perfectly well what the young researcher was pointing at. A nondescript locked door, simply marked STORAGE. Kai looked down at the counter in his hands. "0.62. I'm sure it's coming from around here." "Do you want me to smash the door down?" Sara suggested helpfully. "I think I'd like to try something else first," replied Oliver. ----- One of the other more-or-less-functioning sectors was the security office. This was a blessing, as it contained 1) SCiPNET terminals, so none of them had to trudge eighty miles to Site-12 just to look at their own files, and 2) a keycard printer. "Didn't you say there was a physical lock on there as well?" asked Sara, as Oliver entered his credentials. "We've got lockpicking tools," Bains pointed out. She pulled open a filing cabinet and started rifling through drawers; behind her, the printer whirred into life and spat out a piece of plastic emblazoned with four orange stripes. The photo on the card had been taken when he'd first joined, four years ago -- recent enough that he'd never once felt the need to update it. Then, he'd been a fresh-faced junior researcher; now, he was the Foundation's least experienced and least necessary Site Director. //This,// he mused, //is probably not a typical career progression.// ----- As expected, the card alone did not unlock the mystery storage room. It took Bains several minutes of wrangling with the keyhole to finally get the wretched thing fully open, at which point the five of them stepped into the unknown. A short hallway led to another door -- this one did only need the card -- behind which was a pristine cubic room. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made out of some uniformly dark matte metal, which didn't match any other containment chamber any of them had seen. //Maybe it's for soundproofing,// Oliver thought. In the centre was a wooden table with a single chair, on which was perched a hideous-looking lump of bronze vaguely resembling a lion. He picked it up briefly. "This thing," he announced, "is apparently classified at Level 4. File also says it ruins cameras if they get too close." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and snapped a photo of it. "The research work of our esteemed founding Director, everyone." He leaned down and spoke to the object. "Hello! Do you have any of that vital tactical information he mentioned?" The statue, being a statue, said nothing. "No? //Quelle surprise//. I think it's safe to assume that file might be wrong about a few things." "0.56," said Kai, still holding the borrowed Kant counter. "This room is the focal point." "I don't like it in here," Elia muttered. "This room gives me a weird feeling." Oliver knew what they were on about; there was a very faint but noticeable buzzing sensation in most of his body. "That might be the reality bending aura," replied Kai. Oliver shook his head. "Don't think so. It's not //that// much stronger in here than outside." "You got a better idea?" Kai leaned against one of the dark walls. //The dark grey walls.// //Oh, no.// "Yes, I have, actually," he said. "Go on." "I didn't get the chance to tell you about Dr. Flood, did I? He was Richard Sterling's deputy, or one of them. Discovered this brand new esoteric material, managed to seize half a ton of it from somewhere. Really thaumaturgically active and versatile, huge number of practical applications, in theory... and then it got lost." Bains looked skeptical. "How do you //lose// half a ton of previously-undiscovered material?" "That is a very, very good question. Because I'd say that, if it were still around somewhere, and especially considering the dates involved, there'd probably be about enough of it to make, oh..." he sucked in a breath through his teeth, "...one medium-sized containment chamber?" Nobody said anything. "Kai, just out of interest, did you finish writing that draft proposal yesterday?" "Yeah." Kai pulled up a document on his phone, and handed it to Oliver. [[div class="blockquote table2"]] [[=]] ++ DECOMMISSIONING PROPOSAL [[/=]] WHEREAS Site-128 has suffered severe structural damage following the attack on the 3rd of August 2016, and will therefore remain essentially unusable for a period of several weeks at a minimum; WHEREAS, for the reasons cited above, the few anomalous items previously contained at Site-128 have all already been transferred to other facilities without further incident; WHEREAS Site-128's research operations have largely stagnated in recent years on account of a lack of resources, and of the limited amount of information that can be gathered from such a small number of anomalous subjects; WHEREAS Site-128's GoI monitoring operations have similarly stagnated, as the main group that the Site was originally established to monitor ([[[scp-6625\| GoI-6625, "Holt Office Supplies]]]") has been defunct since 2004; WHEREAS there is no apparent strategic value in continuing to operate Site-128 at this location, as the nearest facility (Site-12) is already largely responsible for operations in southwest England, and has significantly greater MTF capabilities; WHEREAS Site-128 employs only 41 personnel, and its three formerly highest-ranking staff are under O5 investigation due to their being implicated in the aforementioned attack; THEREFORE it is proposed that Site-128 be decommissioned with immediate effect, and its remaining personnel and assets be transferred to other Foundation facilities. ----- [[>]] //Naomi Bains, Chief of Security, Site-128// //Sara Doyle, Head of Maintenance and Facilities, Site-128// //Dr. Elia Fira, Group of Interest Specialist, Site-128// //Dr. Kai Lassila, Deputy Director, Site-128// //Dr. Oliver Memphis, Director, Site-128// [[/>]] [[/div]] He nodded. "We may need to rewrite this." ----- By the end of the day, the document had quadrupled in size. Kai's original draft had become just the executive summary of a three-part essay. The first section was a scathing indictment of Marie Bradley's Directorship, which Oliver had spent several hours wording extremely carefully; the second was a fairly pessimistic cost analysis of returning the Site to normal operations, which they'd need to get someone in Finance to sign off on as soon as they were able; and the third was an explanation of everything they'd found surrounding Richard Sterling. In addition to the complete closure of the Site, it now also called for either a new investigation into the old Director, or an expansion of Overwatch's existing one. It got five signatures with no objections. "What are you going to do if Overwatch rejects it?" asked Bains. He shrugged. "Overwatch is a vast and knowledgeable monolith," his voice dripped with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair, "and I'm an idiot they threw an awful job at. I can't be expected to fathom their motivations." ----- [[div class="s01"]] ++ 2016-08-08 +++++ Site-01, Undisclosed Location [[/div]] The chair was surprisingly comfortable. He wasn't. "Well, this isn't quite what we were expecting," said the singular silhouette, which was apparently named O5-6. //Could be worse,// thought Oliver. //They could have dragged me in front of all thirteen of them at once.// "With regards to what?" he replied carefully. "When we appointed you as //interim Director//," said Six, "we rather assumed you were going to keep the Site running while our investigation went ahead, and not rock the boat to such an extent." He'd anticipated something like this. "With respect, sir, Marie Bradley spent her entire Directorship not rocking the boat, and now it has capsized. I was left to pick up the pieces, and I was not given any instructions as to how." He considered adding that the word 'interim' was nowhere to be found in Six's email, which seemed to imply that he had all the powers and responsibilities of a permanent officeholder, but thought better of it. "Yes, well, I'm not admonishing you by any means," //oh, how nice,// "but I would quite like to know how you found all this information so quickly." This, at least, was a relatively easy one. He'd more or less rehearsed it on the way here. "We started working on the decommissioning proposal the morning after the attack -- that was my intention from the start. I had, however, considered the possibility that we'd been kept open not due to inertia, but because of some sort of secretive reason that I wasn't previously cleared to know about, so I spent a day looking through all the files that were marked Director's-eyes-only just to check. I didn't find any kind of secret //modus operandi//, but I did find most of what you see in Section 3 of that proposal. Dr. Lassila found the rest." "I see." Six's voice conveyed no hint as to whether or not this explanation convinced them. "The decommissioning proposal itself is quite reasonable, but you're also suggesting an investigation into a man who died twelve years ago?" "And who is connected to Containment Cell 31, which is apparently important enough that his deputy got fired over it," Oliver continued. "There is another interesting fact about that room, actually -- it's not in the report because we only realised it yesterday." "And that is?" "OK. The attack on Site-128 looked essentially random. They were destroying equipment, blowing up walls, setting basically anything on fire, with one exception. After all the dust settled, the only part of the main building that was completely undamaged was the area around Cell 31." The silhouette shifted but did not reply, so he kept going. "I don't believe this attack was indiscriminate. I believe it was coordinated by someone who knew what was in that room -- which means either Richard Sterling, Lewis Flood, or someone that one of them trusted. And it killed four people, so I'd quite like to know what they were trying to achieve in doing it." Oliver exhaled, and settled back in the chair. Three --hours-- seconds later, Six said: "We'll take that under advisement." He nodded, not even knowing if the darkened entity could see it. "Thank you, sir." Almost as an afterthought, they added: "Have you given any thought to what you want to do after this? Supposing Site-128 were to be decommissioned, that is." There were a hundred ways to answer that, but anything but the least committal one felt inadvisable. "Not specifically, no. I've had a lot of other things on my mind." "Noted," said Six. "That will be all, Dr. Memphis." ----- [[div class="s128"]] ++ 2016-08-09 +++++ Site-128, Somerset, England [[/div]] [[div class="blockquote table3"]] [[=]] +++ SITE-128 ALL-STAFF BULLETIN Overwatch Command has ordered Site-128 decommissioned. All personnel will be transferred to other facilities in short order. Transfer requests are to be submitted to the Office of the Director by the 12th of August. Direct all queries to this office. We thank all staff at the Site for their service here. [[/=]] [[/div]] The announcement had to be sent from Oliver's phone, of course, but he still let Kai press 'send'. It felt right. They were exactly where they'd been six days earlier: in the back of a parked car, looking out at the destroyed shell of their soon-to-be-former workplace. "Obviously, you've got first choice of transfer location," said Kai. "Obviously." "Any ideas where you're going to go?" "A few," replied Oliver. "I need to mention something first, though." "What?" "O5 approved both parts of that proposal. The Sterling investigation's going ahead." "Oh, good." "But they don't want to do it internally, within Overwatch," he explained. "Something about allocation of resources, I think." Kai frowned. "Who //is// doing it, then?" "That would be me," Oliver grinned. The other man blinked. "Wait, really?" "The O5s trust me, or at least one of them does. Fuck knows why, but they do," he shrugged. "And they've given me... not quite a blanket authorisation, but something pretty close to one. Resources, transport, and also staff." "Staff," Kai nodded. "Interesting." "Now, I will note something. Obviously we'd want to be stationed somewhere near here, probably at Site-12, so we've got physical access to the building. //But//, I may want to interview Lewis Flood, who's in New Jersey, and maybe the GoI research group in Massachusetts, and possibly even some of the experts at 43. We'll probably want a North American office as well, is my point." Kai looked at him. "I... don't really want to move to America." "43's in Canada." "I don't want to move there either." "Fair enough," said Oliver. "Personally, I would prefer never to visit this place again, so I'm happy to let you handle this side of the operation." "Oh, so we're not actually working together?" He sounded surprised. "I mean, not physically, but we'll be coordinating. And depending on how deep this thing goes, I suspect one or both of us will end up bouncing between every Site in the world, so I'm sure we'll meet up at some point," he laughed. He hadn't laughed in a week. Kai didn't laugh with him. As before, it took a long time before either of them said anything. Finally, Kai stared straight ahead and muttered: "...so this is what change looks like. Action versus firefighting." "Yep." "I'm not used to it." Oliver sighed. "I don't think any of us are. Firefighting is stable, in a certain sense, and it's comfortable." "Mhm." "It also achieves nothing," he said bluntly. "And I'm bored of doing that." This time, Kai did laugh, if only briefly. "Well, Dr. Memphis, it's been a... pleasure? I think? You've made the last four years tolerable, let's leave it at that." Considering where the last four years had been spent, that ranked as a generous compliment. "The same to you, Dr. Lassila," he smiled. ----- [[=]] //To be continued// [[/=]] [[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>]]	2023-11-03T16:21:00	[ "_licensebox", "mystery", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The Fall of Site-128 - SCP Foundation	35	[ "not-actually-from-memphis", "scp-6495", "scp-6625", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451270015	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-fall-of-site-128
the-father-the-son-and-shia-labeouf	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>“So, what is this that you’re doing exactly?” Dr Zhang - a tall, slim Asian man with a square jaw and surgical demeanour about the self - stepped into the containment cell, frowning at <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1247" target="_blank">SCP-1247</a>. The SCP didn’t respond, as he was rather preoccupied with the demolition of a large pot of mushrooms. “Dan?” Zhang asked again, tone patiently firm.</p> <p>“What does it look like?” Dan finally responded, stopping to pant. His knuckles were white around the axe he gripped in both hands.</p> <p>Dr. Lost sat in the corner, frowning uncomfortably. “Sorry. I thought it might help him.”</p> <p>Zhang ignored the indigo-haired researcher, choosing to focus on his patient. “Well, to me it seems like you’re destroying mushrooms. Would you like to tell me what inspired you to do this?”</p> <p>“Revenge,” Dan gritted out, swinging again at the (now thoroughly broken) pot of mushrooms. “These fucking fungi tried to kill me, so now I’m giving them a taste of their own medicine.”</p> <p>“Can you see them?” Zhang asked, stepping closer while still keeping a fair distance between them.</p> <p>“Yeah,” Dan said.</p> <p>“Hm,” Zhang made a note on his clipboard. “How are you feeling, now that you’ve… hurt them?”</p> <p>Dan paused. “Good. Yeah. I’m good.”</p> <p>“Hm,” another mark against the clipboard. “Now. I’m aware that previously during experimentation, they <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/experiment-log-scp-1247" target="_blank">burned</a> a-”</p> <p>“Thanks. I remember,” Dan winced, and Zhang nodded sympathetically. “Of course. Apologies. Now, that seemed to hurt you, yes? What’s the difference here?”</p> <p>“These are beefsteaks,” Dan gestured.</p> <p>“Ah, indeed. <em>Gyromitra esculenta</em>,” Zhang glanced over at Dr Lost, who nodded in confirmation.<br/> “False morels,” they said quietly. “It’s close enough.”</p> <p>“Of course,” Zhang replied. “Very good thinking.”</p> <p>Dan continued to hack at the mushrooms. Zhang and Lost exchanged a look.</p> <hr/> <p>Dan closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to grab him and take him quiet and quick.</p> <p>It hooked into him like the clawing arms of Leviathan plants. Ivy vines and thorny tendrils.</p> <p>It took him quickly.</p> <p>But there was no quiet.</p> <p>This dream is screaming and ruddy, caked with browns, deep under the earth it rots his mind. He opens his eyes.</p> <p>The bed he sits upon is a hospital bed, in the cave. The edges of the white sheets are caked in dirt; the cave's walls and floor covered in a thick blanket of honeycombed morels. The thick grooves looked squishy and squirming. Something deep in his mind shifted with the suck and shift of the walls, and it occurred that this was his mind.</p> <p>A few long thin fungi tendrils had trailed up, poking into Dan’s wrists, and suctioned to his head, like an IV drip, dripping decay into a dead brain.</p> <p>Before him, on the edge of the bed, sat Shia LaBeouf.</p> <p>“What the fuck?” Dan asked. Shia was dressed in a white robe, feet bare. A intricate mask of fungal vines crossed over half his face, obscuring it from view, and twisting back into something like horns. He gripped an axe in his left hand, encrusted with brown blood. “Dan.”</p> <p>“That’s me,” Dan said suspiciously. “Where in God’s name am I?”</p> <p>“In Her cave,” replied Shia LaBeouf. “Or Him. Them? Man, I don’t know how to keep up with the lingo these days. Whatever they’re calling me.”</p> <p>“And… who are you?” Dan drew his knees to his chest, pulling himself back against the pillow, and away from the man.</p> <p>“God,” said Shia LaBeouf. “If you want to give a name. You can call me Shia, though. But- well, this is awkward, but I didn’t really know how to talk to you any other way.”</p> <p>“Talk?” Dan raised an eyebrow, suspicion and confusion blending into intrigue.</p> <p>“Yeah. Uh, like I said, this is gonna be awkward, but I need you to stop killing shrooms. I mean… okay, so, you’re kinda a Chosen One right now. Like, obviously, I’m not your dad, but also I did make you. Or choose you. Whatever. Point is, I’m the reason that 70% of your brain is now made of morels.”</p> <p>Dan lunged at Shia LaBeouf. Shia dodged, flickering out of reality until Dan had regained his control, and was sitting up again, panting angrily. “Hey,” Shia flickered back in. “Not cool, man.”</p> <p>“You aren’t real,” Dan hissed.</p> <p>“Neither are you,” Shia shot back. “Probably. Y’know, reality is actually only a 30% chance right now. There’s a 70% chance that none of this matters, I’m dead, and you’re next.” He shrugged.</p> <p>“That’s bullshit,” Dan said. “I know you’re trying to confuse me so I believe you.”</p> <p>“Honestly? I might,” Shia shrugged. “I mean. You’re Mushroom Jesus, not me,” He considered. “I’m just Shia LaBeouf.”</p> <p>“Out of all of that,” Dan replied, breathing hard. “I think I might believe <em>that</em> the most.”</p> <p>“Anyways,” Shia stood, holding up the axe. “Consider this insurance. Sorry for doing this, but… I can’t exactly have my big dude running around killing all my soldiers. So…”</p> <p>With a swift swing, the axe embedded itself deep into Dan’s chest. He screamed, head wrenching back. The walls all flinched, recoiling, before squeezing in again. Cold, fleshy mushroom pressed into the back of Dan’s neck, and his shoulders and hands.</p> <p>Pain was a fungal hellfire, and it burned him clean through, all the way to the marrow of his bones, which had long ago turned from marrow to morel. It burned to his heart, where brown buds had recently taken root.</p> <p>It burned him all the way back to the waking world.</p> <hr/> <p>“Good morning, Mr Forrest,” Dr Lost greeted, from Dan’s cell door. Dan looked up, wincing as he saw their face, or more specifically, the face of Shia LaBeouf. “How are you?”</p> <p>“Bad,” Dan replied.</p> <p>“That’s unfortunate,” Dr Lost frowned. “Would you like to continue the Destruction Therapy we tried yesterday? I’ve consulted with Dr. Zhang, and we’ve designed a room for you that can provide you optimal safety to get out your anger.” They shifted to an encouraging smile, eyes hopeful.</p> <p>Dan took a deep breath, and screamed.</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-father-the-son-and-shia-labeouf">The Father, The Son, and Shia LaBeouf</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-father-the-son-and-shia-labeouf">https://scpwiki.com/the-father-the-son-and-shia-labeouf</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]] [[/>]] “So, what is this that you’re doing exactly?” Dr Zhang - a tall, slim Asian man with a square jaw and surgical demeanour about the self - stepped into the containment cell, frowning at [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1247 SCP-1247]. The SCP didn’t respond, as he was rather preoccupied with the demolition of a large pot of mushrooms. “Dan?” Zhang asked again, tone patiently firm. “What does it look like?” Dan finally responded, stopping to pant. His knuckles were white around the axe he gripped in both hands. Dr. Lost sat in the corner, frowning uncomfortably. “Sorry. I thought it might help him.” Zhang ignored the indigo-haired researcher, choosing to focus on his patient. “Well, to me it seems like you’re destroying mushrooms. Would you like to tell me what inspired you to do this?” “Revenge,” Dan gritted out, swinging again at the (now thoroughly broken) pot of mushrooms. “These fucking fungi tried to kill me, so now I’m giving them a taste of their own medicine.” “Can you see them?” Zhang asked, stepping closer while still keeping a fair distance between them. “Yeah,” Dan said. “Hm,” Zhang made a note on his clipboard. “How are you feeling, now that you’ve… hurt them?” Dan paused. “Good. Yeah. I’m good.” “Hm,” another mark against the clipboard. “Now. I’m aware that previously during experimentation, they [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/experiment-log-scp-1247 burned] a-” “Thanks. I remember,” Dan winced, and Zhang nodded sympathetically. “Of course. Apologies. Now, that seemed to hurt you, yes? What’s the difference here?” “These are beefsteaks,” Dan gestured. “Ah, indeed. //Gyromitra esculenta//,” Zhang glanced over at Dr Lost, who nodded in confirmation. “False morels,” they said quietly. “It’s close enough.” “Of course,” Zhang replied. “Very good thinking.” Dan continued to hack at the mushrooms. Zhang and Lost exchanged a look. ------ Dan closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to grab him and take him quiet and quick. It hooked into him like the clawing arms of Leviathan plants. Ivy vines and thorny tendrils. It took him quickly. But there was no quiet. This dream is screaming and ruddy, caked with browns, deep under the earth it rots his mind. He opens his eyes. The bed he sits upon is a hospital bed, in the cave. The edges of the white sheets are caked in dirt; the cave's walls and floor covered in a thick blanket of honeycombed morels. The thick grooves looked squishy and squirming. Something deep in his mind shifted with the suck and shift of the walls, and it occurred that this was his mind. A few long thin fungi tendrils had trailed up, poking into Dan’s wrists, and suctioned to his head, like an IV drip, dripping decay into a dead brain. Before him, on the edge of the bed, sat Shia LaBeouf. “What the fuck?” Dan asked. Shia was dressed in a white robe, feet bare. A intricate mask of fungal vines crossed over half his face, obscuring it from view, and twisting back into something like horns. He gripped an axe in his left hand, encrusted with brown blood. “Dan.” “That’s me,” Dan said suspiciously. “Where in God’s name am I?” “In Her cave,” replied Shia LaBeouf. “Or Him. Them? Man, I don’t know how to keep up with the lingo these days. Whatever they’re calling me.” “And… who are you?” Dan drew his knees to his chest, pulling himself back against the pillow, and away from the man. “God,” said Shia LaBeouf. “If you want to give a name. You can call me Shia, though. But- well, this is awkward, but I didn’t really know how to talk to you any other way.” “Talk?” Dan raised an eyebrow, suspicion and confusion blending into intrigue. “Yeah. Uh, like I said, this is gonna be awkward, but I need you to stop killing shrooms. I mean… okay, so, you’re kinda a Chosen One right now. Like, obviously, I’m not your dad, but also I did make you. Or choose you. Whatever. Point is, I’m the reason that 70% of your brain is now made of morels.” Dan lunged at Shia LaBeouf. Shia dodged, flickering out of reality until Dan had regained his control, and was sitting up again, panting angrily. “Hey,” Shia flickered back in. “Not cool, man.” “You aren’t real,” Dan hissed. “Neither are you,” Shia shot back. “Probably. Y’know, reality is actually only a 30% chance right now. There’s a 70% chance that none of this matters, I’m dead, and you’re next.” He shrugged. “That’s bullshit,” Dan said. “I know you’re trying to confuse me so I believe you.” “Honestly? I might,” Shia shrugged. “I mean. You’re Mushroom Jesus, not me,” He considered. “I’m just Shia LaBeouf.” “Out of all of that,” Dan replied, breathing hard. “I think I might believe //that// the most.” “Anyways,” Shia stood, holding up the axe. “Consider this insurance. Sorry for doing this, but… I can’t exactly have my big dude running around killing all my soldiers. So…” With a swift swing, the axe embedded itself deep into Dan’s chest. He screamed, head wrenching back. The walls all flinched, recoiling, before squeezing in again. Cold, fleshy mushroom pressed into the back of Dan’s neck, and his shoulders and hands. Pain was a fungal hellfire, and it burned him clean through, all the way to the marrow of his bones, which had long ago turned from marrow to morel. It burned to his heart, where brown buds had recently taken root. It burned him all the way back to the waking world. ------ “Good morning, Mr Forrest,” Dr Lost greeted, from Dan’s cell door. Dan looked up, wincing as he saw their face, or more specifically, the face of Shia LaBeouf. “How are you?” “Bad,” Dan replied. “That’s unfortunate,” Dr Lost frowned. “Would you like to continue the Destruction Therapy we tried yesterday? I’ve consulted with Dr. Zhang, and we’ve designed a room for you that can provide you optimal safety to get out your anger.” They shifted to an encouraging smile, eyes hopeful. Dan took a deep breath, and screamed. [[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>]]	2023-09-14T14:11:00	[ "_licensebox", "black-comedy", "comedy", "surrealism", "tale", "the-twin-sites" ]	The Father, The Son, and Shia LaBeouf - SCP Foundation	8	[ "scp-1247", "experiment-log-scp-1247", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-2-tales-edition" ]	[]	1449978564	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-father-the-son-and-shia-labeouf
the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange	<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>The First Ever Twin Site Secret Santa Gift Exchange</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;"><img alt="Dr Vikki Lost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8759091&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1706959583" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8759091)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;">Dr Vikki Lost</a></span><br/> Merry Christmas, ya'll!</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>The Twin Site’s Secret Santa Gift Exchange went about as well as any Foundation-planned festivity usually went.</p> <p>First, the mandatory meeting.</p> <p>About sixty-odd nervous-looking researchers stood in a clump inside the Site 404 Cafeteria, looking around, as two figures stood on a makeshift platform at the front - the tall, lean blonde figure of Site 404 Director Emerald Reynolds (Resident Christmas Spirit Denier), and the fierce gaze and frizzy dark hair of Site 403 Director Moira Fernsby (Resident Christmas Spirit Enforcer).</p> <p>Neither spoke.</p> <p>The Holiday spirit was suffocating.</p> <p>Finally, Moira attempted to establish focus - “Ladies and gentlemen!” she shouted, then paused, stumbling to add- “And, individuals that prefer gender-neutral language, too, of course… everyone. All of you. Can I get your attention?”</p> <p>“Site Staff,” Reynolds said, and Moira shot her a quiet raised eyebrow.</p> <p>The room stared at them.</p> <p>“We have a holiday surprise for you all!” Moira said, trying to sound excited. The room shifted slightly. Someone coughed.</p> <p>“We’re doing a Secret Santa,” Reynolds said, staring her employees down as if she was daring them to challenge her. A few murmurs broke out. Reynolds turned, looking up to the blank patch of wall where the slideshow was supposed to be appearing. Moira looked as well, furrowing her brow. “Hemlock?”</p> <p>“Sorry! I’m getting there, I’m getting there,” Dr. Adrien Hemlock (Containment Engineer, shaggy dark hair streaked with pink, cornflower puppy-dog eyes) said, from the projector cart. He typed furiously at a laptop. “Which room do I have to connect to again- wait- got it.”</p> <p>The projector light flipped on, and the wall (plus most of Emerald’s face and body) lit up with a large view of Hemlock’s laptop home screen, where he was navigating through the settings menu with a passion.</p> <p>Reynolds crossed her arms.</p> <p>“Slideshow, Hemlock,” she reminded.</p> <p>“I know!” he yelped, and a few awkward seconds later, the wall finally displayed a Google Slides presentation, starting with an aggressively edited version of the Foundation’s logo into a Santa hat.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="slide1" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange/slide1"/></p> <p>“Alright,” Reynolds said, still not moving from her spot in front of the projector light. Nobody said anything. “We’ve assigned each of you a Secret Santa from the other Site. You have two weeks to get them a present and place it under the Christmas tree that we’ll set up here. On Christmas, we’ll open them. Then you’ll guess who made it. Those who guess wrong will be put on Keter duty.”</p> <p>Someone gasped.</p> <p>“That was a joke,” Reynolds said, sighing.</p> <p>The two women had divided the task of assigning Secret Santas between them, with each getting half a list of names from their own Site and half from the other. Moira had gone on a borderline reconnaissance mission, spending the next three days scrolling through employee social media feeds, eavesdropping on break room conversations and looking over security footage to compile what she suspected was the most crafty, sure-fire Secret Santa list possible, destined to pair up unlikely friends and strengthen already shared bonds.</p> <p>Emerald had finished her end of the list last night. Her method had been alphabetising both lists, and then pairing up the names in descending order. Then she went home to get her full three hours of sleep.</p> <p>Moira motioned to Hemlock, who switched to the next slide.</p> <p>“Rules,” said Reynolds. “If I catch anyone breaking them, I’ll be dealing with you personally.”</p> <p>The staff of Site 404 shuddered, having spent enough time under her iron fist to know she wasn’t kidding. They didn’t want to see what a fist of silver-and-gold holiday cheer looked like either.</p> <p>Moira looked at the slide people were reading, feeling proud. She’d designed the slides herself. Graphic design had always been a secret passion of hers, so on the rare occasion that she was given the option to use her skills, she went full speed ahead.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="slide2" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange/slide2"/></p> <p>They then called names, one by one, handing each researcher a sealed envelope stamped with their name, containing the (well-redacted) file on their Secret Santa. Thankfully, Reynolds had convinced Moira that the idea of adding a memetic kill agent to the files, so that nobody but the right person could see it, was more along the lines of “cruel and unusual punishment” than “a special Foundation flare”.</p> <p>After the awkwardly silent, and rather tense affair, the meeting was dismissed, and the Staff filed out, the two Directors stood, Moira smiling hopefully, Emerald tight-lipped.</p> <p>“I think they took it well!” Moira tried.</p> <p>“Simes, West and Levi are going to break the rules,” Reynolds observed. “I’ll handle West, but Levi and Simes are your problem.”</p> <p>Moira sighed.</p> <hr/> <p>The first thing the Staff did upon returning to their workplace for lunch was reveal their Secret Santa's to each other.</p> <p>“I got Jackie Reed from records,” said Dr. Sam “Levi” Leviticus, looking at their slip with amusement. “I don’t know anything about zir other than ze has a lot of freckles.”</p> <p>“Dr. Lee Shin-young,” Dr. Sage West announced, scoffing. The femme ginger firecracker sat on a desk, which she got away with by being the shortest on staff. “They’re old, right? I’ll get them like, shampoo or something.” Levi rolled their eyes.</p> <p>“Ezekiah Lenora?” Dr. Viktoralai Lost said, frowning. Their brow furrowed, face going pale against their dark purple bob. “Oh god, I have no idea who that is.”</p> <p>“Oh, just get them any sort of writing implement or planner. They’ll love you forever,” Levi said. “I worked with them for one of the last Keter cases. They write up scip files, super good at making my containment set-ups sound professional.” The stocky bright-eyed blonde was one of the prized members of the Containment Design and Engineering Department and had pretty much worked with everyone on something.</p> <p>“What about you, Mads?” Sage asked, trying to bring Dr. Maddie Simes into the conversation from where it sat in the corner of the room. Maddie Simes didn't have hair or skin, or really substance at all beyond a person-shaped black cloud, both having been dissolved in a nasty accident with a reality bender a few years back.</p> <p>“Not gonna say. It’s against the rules,” muttered Maddie, sipping from a coffee mug. “Me neither,” Adrien Hemlock said, trying to figure out how Maddie managed to drink without a visible mouth.</p> <p>“Question for the court,” Sage said, spinning a pen in between her fingers. “Ezekiah’s a system, right? Do you have to get all of them gifts, or just the main one?”</p> <p>“I mean, I only really know Ezzy and Mabel,” Levi said, shrugging. “I’d say just get Ezekiah a gift. They’re the host, anyway.”</p> <p>Lost looked like they’d swallowed a very confused lemon.</p> <hr/> <p>Sam Leviticus was Jackie Reed’s Secret Santa.</p> <p>Levi had started keeping tabs on zir, wanting to suss out a bit more about their 404 friend. During this time, they found out a few major things.</p> <ol> <li>Jackie had five cats</li> <li>Jackie dressed like an artsy librarian</li> <li>Ze hated zir department head with a burning passion</li> <li>Ze loved the Lord Of The Rings trilogy more than what seemed like a healthy amount</li> </ol> <p>After all this was considered, Levi ordered a pair of glasses chains with tiny cats dangling off them, spent four hours looking up videos of fancy wrapping paper tricks, and finally ended up with a decent-looking present. Levi tagged it with Reed’s name and snuck into the cafeteria early morning the next week to drop it off.</p> <p>The Christmas Tree they’d planned on bringing in had been deemed a safety hazard, and the fake replacement an unnecessary use of funds. Because of this, the presents all ended up deposited under the coat rack from Moira’s office. Someone had put a Santa hat on top of it. Someone else had hung a few baubles from the “branches”.</p> <p>Dr. Lost ended up in the stationary aisle of Michael’s, trembling slightly in the face of their own indecisiveness, before finally buying 2 packs of fountain pens, 3 journals, and a set of wax seals with the Letter “L” on them that ended up nearly being over-budget, and took an hour to wrap. That too went under the Christmas Coat Rack, as well as Sage’s lumpy parcel of one-size-fits-all fluffy Science-themed socks, which hadn’t been wrapped as much as covered in duct tape until you couldn’t see the gift underneath.</p> <p>Ezekiah Lenora bought Sage West a necklace with a gold heart locket at the end, which Mabel returned while in front, and replaced with a floral notepad stamped with “From The Desk Of Dr. Sage Amelia West. In the end, Ezekiah just wrapped both with a sigh, and wrote a very targeted message on the notes app for Mabel to find when she fronted again.</p> <p>Maddie Simes bought Chemistry Department Head Celeste Novak a small lava lamp for her desk, which had the surprise nearly revealed during their attempt to get the Amazon delivery arranged and approved by Director Moira. Lost brought in a roll of extra wrapping paper for them, which admittedly said “Happy Birthday” in rainbow lettering, but it was the thought that counted.</p> <p>Celeste bought Levi a beautiful box full of paints, for the watercolour masterpieces they often brought in to hang on their office wall. Everyone loved Levi.</p> <p>Adrien got Director Reynolds an ugly Christmas sweater. Mostly because he wanted to see her wear an ugly Christmas sweater, as opposed to her usual sneakers, slacks and a white button-up-lab coat combo.</p> <p>Director Moira watched the slowly growing pile of red, green and gold-wrapped spoils with pride, nodding approvingly every time she caught a researcher sneaking in to surreptitiously drop off their gift.</p> <p>Director Reynolds did what she did every Christmastime. Locked herself in her office, worked herself to the bone, and ran through the list of tense phone calls with her siblings - making sure Jessica and Andy had a good place to sleep, with a reminder she’d always take them in. Telling David to treat his sisters and brother nicely, and avoiding her parents’ voicemails like a bad virus.</p> <p>As the 25th approached, the Director’s met, Moira Fernsby’s red lips in a soft smirk. “We did it. We got Foundation personnel to show holiday spirit.”</p> <p>Reynolds smiled slightly. “Congrats, Moira. You’ve achieved the impossible.” It was meant to be sarcastic, but the tilt of Emerald’s head warmed Moira’s heart.</p> <hr/> <p>Christmas went off (mostly) without a hitch. Someone accused the break room’s mistletoe installation (courtesy of Engineering) of possessing a memetic hazard, and half the Site was shut down for two hours so each employee who’d passed beneath it could be surveyed and tested for any potential effects. Director Reynolds let the carols station run its course through five Christmas songs, which was a wild improvement of last year’s zero (she had confiscated the radio on December 1st).</p> <p>At lunch, everyone headed to the cafeteria, and the gift opening began.</p> <p>It went…</p> <p>It went well. Actually well.</p> <p>Paper was shredded quickly, and Moira’s outstretched recycling bag was ignored no matter how close she shoved it to people’s faces. Sage, wearing her new locket happily, crumpled up a ball of wrapping paper, and tossed it at Levi like a snowball, and in a few minutes, a mini fight had broken out, Lost and Hemlock joining in on their own team.</p> <p>Ezekiah sat at a table, silently looking through their new notebooks with a warm smile on their face and bright eyes. Reeds wore zir glasses chains with pride. Dr. Celeste Novak walked over to Dr. Lee Shin-young, smiling softly at him. They blushed hard as she held up the lava lamp, thanking him. Lee stuttered out a quick denial, but gave in as Celeste leaned up to kiss them on the cheek. Simes rolled its eyes.</p> <p>From the front of the room, Reynolds was smiling, her hands covered by the long sleeves of an atrociously ugly reindeer-printed sweater. Moira walked up beside her, having given up on her attempts at pushing for a green (and preferably tidy) thumbed Christmas. looking over. “You look happy.” She arched a dark eyebrow.</p> <p>“Mm,” Reynolds hummed, her smile remaining. “It’s… nice to see everyone having fun.” She sipped from a thermos of cocoa she’d somehow acquired. “We should do it again next year.”</p> <p>Well, that was a win if Moira had even seen one. She held out her “#1 Site Director” mug (the gift from her own Santa) and gestured for Reynolds to pour some of her cocoa in. Reynolds obliged, and Moira sipped from it, grimacing at the temperature. “Gah. You must be secretly a dragon to drink stuff this hot.”</p> <p>“A Site Director never reveals her secrets,” Reynolds replied mysteriously, taking another long drink. Then she bent down, picked up a stray wrapping paper snowball, and tossed it lightly at Moira. Moira gasped, startled, before bending down and returning the favour.</p> <p>It was a Merry Christmas, overall.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <blockquote> <p>Did you like this? Well then, golly gee, is there more for you!<br/> Dive further into the world of the Twin Sites - Site 403 with <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/branches-reaching-home" target="_blank">Levi and Sycamore's Tale</a>, kick ass with <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/director-emerald-reynolds-guide-to-containing-reality-using" target="_blank">Site Director Emerald Reynolds( by using... Tetris?)</a>, or get spooky with Site 404's finest researchers in <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7218" target="_blank">SCP-7218</a>. Or, just check out my author page! It's <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-vikki-lost">right here.</a> And of course - have a lovely day.</p> </blockquote> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] The First Ever Twin Site Secret Santa Gift Exchange Author: [[user Dr Vikki Lost]] Merry Christmas, ya'll! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] @@ @@ The Twin Site’s Secret Santa Gift Exchange went about as well as any Foundation-planned festivity usually went. First, the mandatory meeting. About sixty-odd nervous-looking researchers stood in a clump inside the Site 404 Cafeteria, looking around, as two figures stood on a makeshift platform at the front - the tall, lean blonde figure of Site 404 Director Emerald Reynolds (Resident Christmas Spirit Denier), and the fierce gaze and frizzy dark hair of Site 403 Director Moira Fernsby (Resident Christmas Spirit Enforcer). Neither spoke. The Holiday spirit was suffocating. Finally, Moira attempted to establish focus - “Ladies and gentlemen!” she shouted, then paused, stumbling to add- “And, individuals that prefer gender-neutral language, too, of course… everyone. All of you. Can I get your attention?” “Site Staff,” Reynolds said, and Moira shot her a quiet raised eyebrow. The room stared at them. “We have a holiday surprise for you all!” Moira said, trying to sound excited. The room shifted slightly. Someone coughed. “We’re doing a Secret Santa,” Reynolds said, staring her employees down as if she was daring them to challenge her. A few murmurs broke out. Reynolds turned, looking up to the blank patch of wall where the slideshow was supposed to be appearing. Moira looked as well, furrowing her brow. “Hemlock?” “Sorry! I’m getting there, I’m getting there,” Dr. Adrien Hemlock (Containment Engineer, shaggy dark hair streaked with pink, cornflower puppy-dog eyes) said, from the projector cart. He typed furiously at a laptop. “Which room do I have to connect to again- wait- got it.” The projector light flipped on, and the wall (plus most of Emerald’s face and body) lit up with a large view of Hemlock’s laptop home screen, where he was navigating through the settings menu with a passion. Reynolds crossed her arms. “Slideshow, Hemlock,” she reminded. “I know!” he yelped, and a few awkward seconds later, the wall finally displayed a Google Slides presentation, starting with an aggressively edited version of the Foundation’s logo into a Santa hat. = [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange/slide1]] “Alright,” Reynolds said, still not moving from her spot in front of the projector light. Nobody said anything. “We’ve assigned each of you a Secret Santa from the other Site. You have two weeks to get them a present and place it under the Christmas tree that we’ll set up here. On Christmas, we’ll open them. Then you’ll guess who made it. Those who guess wrong will be put on Keter duty.” Someone gasped. “That was a joke,” Reynolds said, sighing. The two women had divided the task of assigning Secret Santas between them, with each getting half a list of names from their own Site and half from the other. Moira had gone on a borderline reconnaissance mission, spending the next three days scrolling through employee social media feeds, eavesdropping on break room conversations and looking over security footage to compile what she suspected was the most crafty, sure-fire Secret Santa list possible, destined to pair up unlikely friends and strengthen already shared bonds. Emerald had finished her end of the list last night. Her method had been alphabetising both lists, and then pairing up the names in descending order. Then she went home to get her full three hours of sleep. Moira motioned to Hemlock, who switched to the next slide. “Rules,” said Reynolds. “If I catch anyone breaking them, I’ll be dealing with you personally.” The staff of Site 404 shuddered, having spent enough time under her iron fist to know she wasn’t kidding. They didn’t want to see what a fist of silver-and-gold holiday cheer looked like either. Moira looked at the slide people were reading, feeling proud. She’d designed the slides herself. Graphic design had always been a secret passion of hers, so on the rare occasion that she was given the option to use her skills, she went full speed ahead. = [[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange/slide2]] They then called names, one by one, handing each researcher a sealed envelope stamped with their name, containing the (well-redacted) file on their Secret Santa. Thankfully, Reynolds had convinced Moira that the idea of adding a memetic kill agent to the files, so that nobody but the right person could see it, was more along the lines of “cruel and unusual punishment” than “a special Foundation flare”. After the awkwardly silent, and rather tense affair, the meeting was dismissed, and the Staff filed out, the two Directors stood, Moira smiling hopefully, Emerald tight-lipped. “I think they took it well!” Moira tried. “Simes, West and Levi are going to break the rules,” Reynolds observed. “I’ll handle West, but Levi and Simes are your problem.” Moira sighed. ------ The first thing the Staff did upon returning to their workplace for lunch was reveal their Secret Santa's to each other. “I got Jackie Reed from records,” said Dr. Sam “Levi” Leviticus, looking at their slip with amusement. “I don’t know anything about zir other than ze has a lot of freckles.” “Dr. Lee Shin-young,” Dr. Sage West announced, scoffing. The femme ginger firecracker sat on a desk, which she got away with by being the shortest on staff. “They’re old, right? I’ll get them like, shampoo or something.” Levi rolled their eyes. “Ezekiah Lenora?” Dr. Viktoralai Lost said, frowning. Their brow furrowed, face going pale against their dark purple bob. “Oh god, I have no idea who that is.” “Oh, just get them any sort of writing implement or planner. They’ll love you forever,” Levi said. “I worked with them for one of the last Keter cases. They write up scip files, super good at making my containment set-ups sound professional.” The stocky bright-eyed blonde was one of the prized members of the Containment Design and Engineering Department and had pretty much worked with everyone on something. “What about you, Mads?” Sage asked, trying to bring Dr. Maddie Simes into the conversation from where it sat in the corner of the room. Maddie Simes didn't have hair or skin, or really substance at all beyond a person-shaped black cloud, both having been dissolved in a nasty accident with a reality bender a few years back. “Not gonna say. It’s against the rules,” muttered Maddie, sipping from a coffee mug. “Me neither,” Adrien Hemlock said, trying to figure out how Maddie managed to drink without a visible mouth. “Question for the court,” Sage said, spinning a pen in between her fingers. “Ezekiah’s a system, right? Do you have to get all of them gifts, or just the main one?” “I mean, I only really know Ezzy and Mabel,” Levi said, shrugging. “I’d say just get Ezekiah a gift. They’re the host, anyway.” Lost looked like they’d swallowed a very confused lemon. ------ Sam Leviticus was Jackie Reed’s Secret Santa. Levi had started keeping tabs on zir, wanting to suss out a bit more about their 404 friend. During this time, they found out a few major things. # Jackie had five cats # Jackie dressed like an artsy librarian # Ze hated zir department head with a burning passion # Ze loved the Lord Of The Rings trilogy more than what seemed like a healthy amount After all this was considered, Levi ordered a pair of glasses chains with tiny cats dangling off them, spent four hours looking up videos of fancy wrapping paper tricks, and finally ended up with a decent-looking present. Levi tagged it with Reed’s name and snuck into the cafeteria early morning the next week to drop it off. The Christmas Tree they’d planned on bringing in had been deemed a safety hazard, and the fake replacement an unnecessary use of funds. Because of this, the presents all ended up deposited under the coat rack from Moira’s office. Someone had put a Santa hat on top of it. Someone else had hung a few baubles from the “branches”. Dr. Lost ended up in the stationary aisle of Michael’s, trembling slightly in the face of their own indecisiveness, before finally buying 2 packs of fountain pens, 3 journals, and a set of wax seals with the Letter “L” on them that ended up nearly being over-budget, and took an hour to wrap. That too went under the Christmas Coat Rack, as well as Sage’s lumpy parcel of one-size-fits-all fluffy Science-themed socks, which hadn’t been wrapped as much as covered in duct tape until you couldn’t see the gift underneath. Ezekiah Lenora bought Sage West a necklace with a gold heart locket at the end, which Mabel returned while in front, and replaced with a floral notepad stamped with “From The Desk Of Dr. Sage Amelia West. In the end, Ezekiah just wrapped both with a sigh, and wrote a very targeted message on the notes app for Mabel to find when she fronted again. Maddie Simes bought Chemistry Department Head Celeste Novak a small lava lamp for her desk, which had the surprise nearly revealed during their attempt to get the Amazon delivery arranged and approved by Director Moira. Lost brought in a roll of extra wrapping paper for them, which admittedly said “Happy Birthday” in rainbow lettering, but it was the thought that counted. Celeste bought Levi a beautiful box full of paints, for the watercolour masterpieces they often brought in to hang on their office wall. Everyone loved Levi. Adrien got Director Reynolds an ugly Christmas sweater. Mostly because he wanted to see her wear an ugly Christmas sweater, as opposed to her usual sneakers, slacks and a white button-up-lab coat combo. Director Moira watched the slowly growing pile of red, green and gold-wrapped spoils with pride, nodding approvingly every time she caught a researcher sneaking in to surreptitiously drop off their gift. Director Reynolds did what she did every Christmastime. Locked herself in her office, worked herself to the bone, and ran through the list of tense phone calls with her siblings - making sure Jessica and Andy had a good place to sleep, with a reminder she’d always take them in. Telling David to treat his sisters and brother nicely, and avoiding her parents’ voicemails like a bad virus. As the 25th approached, the Director’s met, Moira Fernsby’s red lips in a soft smirk. “We did it. We got Foundation personnel to show holiday spirit.” Reynolds smiled slightly. “Congrats, Moira. You’ve achieved the impossible.” It was meant to be sarcastic, but the tilt of Emerald’s head warmed Moira’s heart. ------ Christmas went off (mostly) without a hitch. Someone accused the break room’s mistletoe installation (courtesy of Engineering) of possessing a memetic hazard, and half the Site was shut down for two hours so each employee who’d passed beneath it could be surveyed and tested for any potential effects. Director Reynolds let the carols station run its course through five Christmas songs, which was a wild improvement of last year’s zero (she had confiscated the radio on December 1st). At lunch, everyone headed to the cafeteria, and the gift opening began. It went… It went well. Actually well. Paper was shredded quickly, and Moira’s outstretched recycling bag was ignored no matter how close she shoved it to people’s faces. Sage, wearing her new locket happily, crumpled up a ball of wrapping paper, and tossed it at Levi like a snowball, and in a few minutes, a mini fight had broken out, Lost and Hemlock joining in on their own team. Ezekiah sat at a table, silently looking through their new notebooks with a warm smile on their face and bright eyes. Reeds wore zir glasses chains with pride. Dr. Celeste Novak walked over to Dr. Lee Shin-young, smiling softly at him. They blushed hard as she held up the lava lamp, thanking him. Lee stuttered out a quick denial, but gave in as Celeste leaned up to kiss them on the cheek. Simes rolled its eyes. From the front of the room, Reynolds was smiling, her hands covered by the long sleeves of an atrociously ugly reindeer-printed sweater. Moira walked up beside her, having given up on her attempts at pushing for a green (and preferably tidy) thumbed Christmas. looking over. “You look happy.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “Mm,” Reynolds hummed, her smile remaining. “It’s… nice to see everyone having fun.” She sipped from a thermos of cocoa she’d somehow acquired. “We should do it again next year.” Well, that was a win if Moira had even seen one. She held out her “#1 Site Director” mug (the gift from her own Santa) and gestured for Reynolds to pour some of her cocoa in. Reynolds obliged, and Moira sipped from it, grimacing at the temperature. “Gah. You must be secretly a dragon to drink stuff this hot.” “A Site Director never reveals her secrets,” Reynolds replied mysteriously, taking another long drink. Then she bent down, picked up a stray wrapping paper snowball, and tossed it lightly at Moira. Moira gasped, startled, before bending down and returning the favour. It was a Merry Christmas, overall. @@ @@ @@ @@ > Did you like this? Well then, golly gee, is there more for you! > Dive further into the world of the Twin Sites - Site 403 with [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/branches-reaching-home Levi and Sycamore's Tale], kick ass with [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/director-emerald-reynolds-guide-to-containing-reality-using Site Director Emerald Reynolds( by using... Tetris?)], or get spooky with Site 404's finest researchers in [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7218 SCP-7218]. Or, just check out my author page! It's [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-vikki-lost right here.] And of course - have a lovely day.	2023-12-05T23:43:00	[ "_cc", "christmas", "comedy", "tale", "the-twin-sites" ]	The First Ever Twin Site Secret Santa Gift Exchange - SCP Foundation	6	[ "branches-reaching-home", "director-emerald-reynolds-guide-to-containing-reality-using", "scp-7218", "dr-vikki-lost" ]	[ "twin-sites-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[ "http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange/slide1", "http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange/slide2" ]	1451702773	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-first-ever-twin-site-secret-santa-gift-exchange
the-flesh-that-raves	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>My entire body tenses to the loud clanging of a metal can I accidentally knocked off a table, the sound echoing though the industrial hall. Silence. Then a sigh of relief.</p> <p>I haven't seen any of them today, but their presence never leaves my mind. Flashes of the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-610">red flesh</a> oozing over what I can only assume to be a human. I can smell the stench of rot and puss in each wall around me. It's there, even when they're not.</p> <p>No matter, it's just life now. The same it's been the last month, and the one before that. And the one before… focus. It's just past these few buildings. A whole storage of dry food possibly gone unnoticed by any other group. Probably a lost cause, but worth the shot. Lots of mouths to feed back at the base.</p> <p>Peeking my head out of the door, I see nothing. Move swiftly, to the adjacent building. The open sky is as soothing as the open area around me is terrifying. The skyscraper in the far distance is possibly just ever so slightly more covered in the sickly red substance than last week. Maybe, but that's not what's important now. The door I reach is surprisingly open, and I am greeted with the sight of one of the flesh. Burned and crispy, but fresh. Looks like I might have company. I pull out my handgun.</p> <p>As I move along the hallway, I cannot believe my ears. Music, actual music. What was once fantastic sends nothing but terror down my spine. Someone must either be insane or just lost all fucks to give. And yet… I find my foot tapping to the beat emanating from somewhere ahead of me.</p> <p>It's here, right past these double doors. By the sound of it, the flesh has gotten here before me. My mind offers me no good reasons to look inside, but the music.. it's just been so long. I open the doors ever so slightly in order to get a peek of what awaits me inside.</p> <p>Holy shit…</p> <p>Right there before my eyes, limbs of irregularly shaped flesh, keratin and cartilage, moving in rhythm to the tunes spreading so easily around the hall. The feeling of sheer shock and intrigue flow over me as I find myself unable to do nothing but stare. The moist smell of rot almost makes me retch, but those horrific bodies of twisted bones and crusted layers of scarring moving so fluidly in rhythm is enticing. A dry piece of a limb falls here, a puff of spores spreading there. But the dancing is not hampered. I am greeted with feelings I had considered mostly lost to me. All that time spent on the stage before all… this… what even is this?</p> <p>The music stops abruptly, causing me to recoil slightly and retreat just a bit further into the hall behind me.</p> <p>"Timothy, you know I love you. But kick-step, kick-step, body-roll is not rocket science!"</p> <p>"Yeah yeah I know but…"</p> <p>"Kick-step, kick-step, body-roll!"</p> <p>What the hell are they gurgling about? It's like they're actually talking to each other. What the fuck is going on here?</p> <p>"Listen Lance, it's been what, 3 hours now. Can't we take a break?"</p> <p>"Oh sure. If you want to end up second like last year, then have your breaks all you want! I am NOT losing to William and his posse again!"</p> <p>"You mean WE aren't losing."</p> <p>"<em>Sigh</em> Yes, WE. Now where's Greg? Is he seriously still sporing in the bathroom?"</p> <p>The world around me has been shattered again. This isn't possible, I can't think straight.<br/> My eyes catch movement right in front of me. One of the hinges supporting the other door had failed, causing it to screech loudly before banging against the wall. I hold my breath out of instinct, but it's clear that hiding is out of the question.</p> <p>"What the… a human!? Get it! They can't be allowed to know!"</p> <p>I stumble backwards before bolting back towards where I came from. Gladly the flesh has never been fast to move. Then why am I hearing them behind me? If this is a dream, please wake up now.</p> <p>I see the door through which I entered the building. Instead of crashing though, I am thrown back on the floor after hitting it. It's locked? It can't be! And I can hear them, just around the corner. My eye catches another door, the bathrooms, which I barge through with haste. The window is broken, but blocked with debris on the outside. There's no time, the stalls are my only hope. Close the door, crouch on top of the cracked toilet, and hold my breath. I can hear them… maybe they didn't see me slip into this room.</p> <p>"Ohhh man. Guys, Greg has been torched."</p> <p>"No no no NO NO! This isn't happening! We're a dancer short, and the dance-off is in 6 days!"</p> <p>"Shit… let's just get this human now. We still have time to consider our options."</p> <p>"Wait a second. Guys, hear me out…"</p> <p>It feels like I've been sitting here for hours. They're still gurgling outside the bathroom. Calm down, it's just a matter of time until they move on. Wait, was that the door I heard? Please, please just go away.<br/> The door is pushed ever so slightly towards me before it begins to violently shake. The next second there is no door between me and the flesh. I unload my clip against the creatures in front of me to no effect. It can't end like this. I can't go out on the toilet like Elvis.</p> <p>"Say human. I like the way you moved those feet."</p> <p>I'm sorry. I won't be coming back with food. I'm so sorry. I close my eyes as the red appendages reach towards me.</p> <p>….</p> <p>My foot sets on the stage in sync with the others. Then the other one, followed by the third. Kick-step, kick-step, body-roll. Left foot moves to the front while my neck sounds a crunch, moving to face the ceiling. Something flaky sheds off the top of my head. The moisture around me feels great, but doesn't compare to the thrill I'm feeling. I have taken in the flesh, and let out my inhibitions, my troubles and my responsibilities. There is only the flesh and the rhythm. And I've never been happier.</p> <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaeyPNgzBIc">Freedom.</a></p> <p>Oh yeah. William's so going down.</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-flesh-that-raves">The Flesh That Raves</a>" by SphereFinale, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-flesh-that-raves">https://scpwiki.com/the-flesh-that-raves</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]] [[/>]] My entire body tenses to the loud clanging of a metal can I accidentally knocked off a table, the sound echoing though the industrial hall. Silence. Then a sigh of relief. I haven't seen any of them today, but their presence never leaves my mind. Flashes of the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-610 red flesh] oozing over what I can only assume to be a human. I can smell the stench of rot and puss in each wall around me. It's there, even when they're not. No matter, it's just life now. The same it's been the last month, and the one before that. And the one before... focus. It's just past these few buildings. A whole storage of dry food possibly gone unnoticed by any other group. Probably a lost cause, but worth the shot. Lots of mouths to feed back at the base. Peeking my head out of the door, I see nothing. Move swiftly, to the adjacent building. The open sky is as soothing as the open area around me is terrifying. The skyscraper in the far distance is possibly just ever so slightly more covered in the sickly red substance than last week. Maybe, but that's not what's important now. The door I reach is surprisingly open, and I am greeted with the sight of one of the flesh. Burned and crispy, but fresh. Looks like I might have company. I pull out my handgun. As I move along the hallway, I cannot believe my ears. Music, actual music. What was once fantastic sends nothing but terror down my spine. Someone must either be insane or just lost all fucks to give. And yet... I find my foot tapping to the beat emanating from somewhere ahead of me. It's here, right past these double doors. By the sound of it, the flesh has gotten here before me. My mind offers me no good reasons to look inside, but the music.. it's just been so long. I open the doors ever so slightly in order to get a peek of what awaits me inside. Holy shit... Right there before my eyes, limbs of irregularly shaped flesh, keratin and cartilage, moving in rhythm to the tunes spreading so easily around the hall. The feeling of sheer shock and intrigue flow over me as I find myself unable to do nothing but stare. The moist smell of rot almost makes me retch, but those horrific bodies of twisted bones and crusted layers of scarring moving so fluidly in rhythm is enticing. A dry piece of a limb falls here, a puff of spores spreading there. But the dancing is not hampered. I am greeted with feelings I had considered mostly lost to me. All that time spent on the stage before all... this... what even is this? The music stops abruptly, causing me to recoil slightly and retreat just a bit further into the hall behind me. "Timothy, you know I love you. But kick-step, kick-step, body-roll is not rocket science!" "Yeah yeah I know but..." "Kick-step, kick-step, body-roll!" What the hell are they gurgling about? It's like they're actually talking to each other. What the fuck is going on here? "Listen Lance, it's been what, 3 hours now. Can't we take a break?" "Oh sure. If you want to end up second like last year, then have your breaks all you want! I am NOT losing to William and his posse again!" "You mean WE aren't losing." "//Sigh// Yes, WE. Now where's Greg? Is he seriously still sporing in the bathroom?" The world around me has been shattered again. This isn't possible, I can't think straight. My eyes catch movement right in front of me. One of the hinges supporting the other door had failed, causing it to screech loudly before banging against the wall. I hold my breath out of instinct, but it's clear that hiding is out of the question. "What the... a human!? Get it! They can't be allowed to know!" I stumble backwards before bolting back towards where I came from. Gladly the flesh has never been fast to move. Then why am I hearing them behind me? If this is a dream, please wake up now. I see the door through which I entered the building. Instead of crashing though, I am thrown back on the floor after hitting it. It's locked? It can't be! And I can hear them, just around the corner. My eye catches another door, the bathrooms, which I barge through with haste. The window is broken, but blocked with debris on the outside. There's no time, the stalls are my only hope. Close the door, crouch on top of the cracked toilet, and hold my breath. I can hear them... maybe they didn't see me slip into this room. "Ohhh man. Guys, Greg has been torched." "No no no NO NO! This isn't happening! We're a dancer short, and the dance-off is in 6 days!" "Shit... let's just get this human now. We still have time to consider our options." "Wait a second. Guys, hear me out..." It feels like I've been sitting here for hours. They're still gurgling outside the bathroom. Calm down, it's just a matter of time until they move on. Wait, was that the door I heard? Please, please just go away. The door is pushed ever so slightly towards me before it begins to violently shake. The next second there is no door between me and the flesh. I unload my clip against the creatures in front of me to no effect. It can't end like this. I can't go out on the toilet like Elvis. "Say human. I like the way you moved those feet." I'm sorry. I won't be coming back with food. I'm so sorry. I close my eyes as the red appendages reach towards me. .... My foot sets on the stage in sync with the others. Then the other one, followed by the third. Kick-step, kick-step, body-roll. Left foot moves to the front while my neck sounds a crunch, moving to face the ceiling. Something flaky sheds off the top of my head. The moisture around me feels great, but doesn't compare to the thrill I'm feeling. I have taken in the flesh, and let out my inhibitions, my troubles and my responsibilities. There is only the flesh and the rhythm. And I've never been happier. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaeyPNgzBIc Freedom.] Oh yeah. William's so going down. [[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>]]	2023-04-01T09:10:00	[ "_licensebox", "absurdism", "comedy", "joke", "tale" ]	The Flesh That Raves - SCP Foundation	32	[ "scp-610", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "april-fools-hub", "joke-scps" ]	[]	1447042460	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-flesh-that-raves
the-gates-of-horn-and-ivory	<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>The Gates of Horn and Ivory</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=1735053315" 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><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=1735053315" 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/> ⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article contains a content warning: 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> <p>Alberto Aureo and Gael Ceballos met in the Elysium Campus at Eurtec Polytechnique. Their first class together was an optional subject, 'The Ontology of Dreams', which Ceballos only enrolled to fulfill his class quotas. Yet his first memory of Aureo was of that annoyingly brilliant boy, genuinely curious about dream ontology.</p> <p>It was rumored that Prof. Danielopoulos taught at Alexylva University before coming to Eurtec. Whether or not the rumor was true, his classes were very popular, maybe in part because of his powerful lecturer voice:</p> <p>"<em>Stranger, dreams verily are baffling and unclear of meaning, and in no wise do they find fulfillment in all things for men. For two are the gates of shadowy dreams, and one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those dreams that pass through the gate of sawn ivory deceive men, bringing words that find no fulfillment. But those that come forth through the gate of polished horn bring true issues to pass, when any mortal sees them. But in my case, it was not from thence, methinks, that my strange dream came…</em>"</p> <p>Danielopoulos remained in silence for a few moments, as to give the class time to assimilate the passage he had just read. "Can anyone of you tell me which is this from?"</p> <p>"The Illiad, professor?" asked a female voice.</p> <p>"Close but not quite, Claudia."</p> <p>"It's from the Oddysey, professor."</p> <p>"As sharp as always, Alberto."</p> <p>Alberto looked like he was always daydreaming, yet he always managed to get the right answer. Ceballos envied him, he wished he was as brilliant and carefree as Alberto. Yet what he envied the most was the way Claudia looked at him. Despite this, the three became close friends during their university years. Ceballos became an accomplished scientist, but he never managed to surpass the geniality of his best friend. Always the second best.</p> <p>Alberto wasn't interested in Claudia, nor in any woman for that matter. Claudias' heart was eventually broken, and Ceballos was there to be a shoulder to cry on. Even though they married, Gael could never shake away the feeling that he was but a consolation prize. Always the second best.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote" style="border: medium solid grey"> <p><strong>From:</strong> <a href="javascript:;">g.ceballos@ValravnCorporation</a><br/> <strong>To:</strong> <a href="javascript:;">morosowa@RaptorTecIndustries</a><br/> <strong>Topic:</strong> Prototype proposal<br/> <strong>Content:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Mrs. Morosowa</p> <p>On behalf of the Hight Table of the Valravn Corporation, I express the most sincere admiration towards Raptor Tech Industries’ work.</p> <p>I write to you with the intent to hire the technical services of R.T.I. We are developing a new model, but we have faced some difficulties regarding ontological stabilization. I happen to be aware that one of your researchers, Dr. Aureo, has achieved impressive results in that topic. I am confident this venture will be mutually beneficial for our organizations.</p> <p>We would be more than thrilled to work with R.T.I. and Dr. Aureo on this project. Regarding monetary compensation, the Valravn Corporation would spare no expenses for hiring the best in the industry.</p> <p>Signed<br/> Mr. Ceballos<br/> <em>Lead Researcher in Paraprosthetics</em></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Gael Ceballos had been writing and rewriting this mail for hours. He had scrutinized every word, overthought every sentence, and agonized about the clarity of his message. Yet he had to admit to himself that, at this point, he was just stalling the inevitable. He clicked 'Send' and the dice were cast.</p> <p>He looked at the web camera on his workstation. It was most likely off, but to him, it served as a clear reminder that at Valravn someone… something… was always watching you. He shrugged away the paranoic feelings and focused on his other monitor, where he had opened the Gorgon Drone documentation:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="papernote"> <h3 id="toc0"><span>Gorgon Drone Technical Brief.</span></h3> </div> <div class="papernote"> <h4 id="toc1"><span>Hardware:</span></h4> <p>Gorgon is a remote-controlled close-combat drone. The drone is equipped with 8 segmented limbs ending in gripping claws, used for both mobility and combat. The exterior of the drone is reinforced with titanium alloy, granting remarkable durability in combat scenarios.</p> <h4 id="toc2"><span>Control system:</span></h4> <p>The Oneiros is a Greek concept referring to the personification of a dream. While dreaming, any person has the potential to manifest an Oneiros. Usually, oneiric manifestations are restricted to an alternative plane commonly known as the "Dreamscape". However, interactions between the Oneiros in the dreamscape and the physical world are theoretically possible, given sufficient ontological stabilization.</p> <p>The proposed control system should allow the user to pilot the Gorgon drone through their Oneiros. Oneiric Remote Control offers many advantages over traditional channels, for example, it would be more resistant to interfering and hijacking and range should be a non-issue. However, the drone can only be reliably controlled under a state of lucid dreaming during REM sleep. To successfully achieve this state, Compound-M0RPh, synthesized from <em>Calea zacatechichi</em><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup>, should be administered to pilots.</p> <h4 id="toc3"><span>Disadvantages:</span></h4> <p>No suitable Ontoligcal Stabilizator had been found.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/la-llorona.model">Ceballos was no stranger to ontological stabilization</a>. Yet dreams were a different type of beast compared to ghosts and spirits. Begrudgingly, he had to accept there was only one person in the world that could solve the issue at hand. He risked a lot acting behind the back of Olga Brandt to contact R.T.I. and get the help of his former classmate. "<em>That old wicked hag</em>," he thought. It had been a costly move, not only had he had to swallow his pride but also everything would have to go perfectly else he would be at mercy of Brandt's retribution.</p> <p>He sighed and opened a drawer on his desk, he need something to calm his nerves. Lexapro, Benzos, Gaba, CBD, and of course, <em>Calea zacatechichi.</em> "<em>Pasto amargo</em>", he considered for a few seconds before closing the drawer. "<em>I need to be sober…</em>" He had made his move and now he could only wait. But he had a good chance of finally beating Brandt at her own game. For so long time he had lived under the shadow of the Lead Researcher of the Valkyrie Program. It was time for a change. <em>"The Mother of Valkyries" — what a joke</em>, he thought.</p> <p>The annoying notification sound of a new email interrupted his mental ramblings. He hurried to open the incoming message.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote" style="border: medium solid grey"> <p><strong>From:</strong> <a href="javascript:;">morosowa@RaptorTecIndustries</a><br/> <strong>To:</strong> <a href="javascript:;">g.ceballos@ValravnCorporation</a><br/> <strong>Topic:</strong> RE: Prototype proposal<br/> <strong>Content:</strong></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Mr. Ceballos</p> <p>We here at Raptor Tech Industries are greatly honoured that the Valravn Corporation has shown some interest in our work. And of course, Dr. Aureo would more than available to participate in this project.</p> <p>If you wish to continue working with us, we look forward to your response. Let's schedule a call to discuss pricing.</p> <p>Signed<br/> Mrs. Morosowa<br/> <em>Responsible for Sales and Marketing</em></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Prof. Veloce flipped through the documents, concept drawings, and blueprints. For Alberto, watching the Raptor Tech senior researcher working was a mesmerizing spectacle. While he had grown enough to see Prof. Veloce as a professional rival, the first years in Raptor Tec. Industries with Prof. Veloce as his mentor meant that Alberto still cared about the older man's opinion.</p> <p>"Good. From a purely structural point of view, this is implementable."</p> <p>"Where would the difficulties be?"</p> <p>Alberto knew the old researcher's quirks well, that he could pick out the unspoken 'but' from the tone of his voice alone.</p> <p>"Dr. Aureo, I think you are already familiar with my reservations on <em>certain</em> components."</p> <p>Prof. Veloce had never started calling Alberto by his first name. His reasoning was not out of impoliteness — Alberto should be treated as if they were on equal terms. But in most cases, it gave rather the impression that Prof. Veloce was being distant.</p> <p>"Is it the Oneiric Control System?"</p> <p>Alberto was able to hide his frustration enough so that it would not be perceived as rudeness. Prof. Veloce put the documents aside and began cleaning his reading glasses.</p> <p>"I want to make it clear that I don't mind your interest in the Oneiros. I fear what might go wrong. Dreams can be unpredictable."</p> <p>Prof. Veloce handed back the schematics and smiled a smile that teachers show when they knew they had put a dent in the enthusiasm of one of their students.</p> <p>"You're experienced enough to know what will work and what won't. The whole dreaming thing is your pet passion too, so it's not out of the question that I'm mistaken. I am an adult, I should be able to admit a mistake."</p> <p>Alberto took the papers and was about to thank Prof. Veloce for taking the time when a woman entered the room as he was about to leave.</p> <p>"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ridter," Prof. Veloce greeted the newcomer, "How can I help?"</p> <p>Elisa Theodora Ridter was the eldest of the Ridter sibling trio, <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/eine-seele-in-der-maschine-portalseite">a notorious family among the ranks of R.T.I.</a> Alberto had very rarely had contact with her before; in the handful of times they had met, he had always found her to be cold and somewhat mechanical.</p> <p>"I was asked to give you this dossier before I leave with my brother. Latest Titan-related updates, I was told you would appreciate being kept in the loop."</p> <p>"Oh, thank you. Yes, I see, I see… Interesting developments. Thank you again for bringing it to me."</p> <p>Mrs. Ridter motioned to leave again, however, she stopped briefly and looked at Alberto with a strange, indefinable gaze. It was longer than the ones she usually gave him. The fact that her eyes were expressionless made it all the creepier. For an imperceptible split second, the woman opened her mouth to say something to him.</p> <p>Then she left without a word.</p> <p>Alberto followed her example and tried to distract himself from that awkward moment. With one hand he fished out his mobile phone and dialed Ceballos' number.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Gael Ceballos had a complicated relationship with dreams. He had suffered from insomnia and nightmares since he was thirteen. To help him cope with his night terrors, his <em>abuela</em> used to give him <em>hoja madre</em>. He still used it to this day, when melatonin and rivotril would just not do the trick. <em>Pasto amargo</em> not only gave you a good night of sleep: lucid dreaming was a powerful weapon against nightmares. And Ceballos was planning on turning into a powerful weapon for Valravn.</p> <p>Gael found himself in the middle of the lecture hall. All of his old class was there, including Carmen and Alberto sitting together at the same desk. Instead of Prof. Danielopoulos, Olga Brandt presided over the lecture.</p> <p>"You are late again, Gael." Said the Mother of Valkyries, "and it seems you forgot your pants again."</p> <p>All the class began to laugh at the pantsless Ceballos. Carmen's and Alberto's twisted fingers pointed at their friend while they cruelly laughed. The laughter grew increasingly louder and distorted until it consumed all other noises. Their faces had already mutated into parodic facsimiles of the human visage. They began to make out, their unnaturally long tongues twirling into each other.</p> <p>"Enough of nightmares!" shouted Ceballos as he violently turned the page of his dream. He tore into the fabric of his Subconscious to escape into the unconstrained possibilities of the Dreamscape. He found himself floating in an endless stream of consciousness. Above him <em>alebrijes</em>, the oneirozooic inhabitants of the Dreamscape, swam graciously over the noospehric currents. Below him, an island with violet beaches floated above the memetic mists of the Seas of Id.</p> <p>Gael swam frantically towards the island of violet beaches. Dream-logic compelled him to get close, to reach the gates. If only.</p> <p>He felt a colorful cacophony near him. A pack of <em>alebrijes</em> galloped alongside. "Gael, Gael", said a snake that was the tail of a red and golden zebra. "Are you the center of everything that happens to you"?</p> <p>"Is he trying to reach the Gates?" Asked the head of the zebra.</p> <p>"Yes, he is trying to reach the Gates." Answered the snake.</p> <p>"Shut up, you damn freaks."</p> <p>"Gael, time to wake up." Said the <em>alebrijes</em> in chorus.</p> <p>The ringtone of his phone pierced through the dream like a hot iron nail. A half-sleep Ceballos reached for his phone. Three missed calls from Alberto Aureo.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"I am the Lead Researcher on Paraprosthetics of the Valravn Corporation", Gael muttered as he entered the conference room. He had found that reminding himself of his title and achievements was a temporary way to calm his nerves. Yet, a meeting with the High Table was always a torturous and anxiety-inducing deal.</p> <p>A long table occupied most of the room; all of the black office chairs were empty, with one exception. Olga Brandt directed a side look at his rival. "You are almost late, Dr. Ceballos." She discretely pointed at a monolith at the center of the table. "You wouldn't want to keep the CTO waiting."</p> <p>The monolith was a big black prism carved with runic symbols. Ceballos could have never discerned whether it was made of metal or some type of rock. At last, he knew it was not his place to ask. The runic symbols began emitting a soft greyish-blue light. The CTO was online. A metallic voice emerged from the black monolith:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Greetings.<br/> Researcher Ceballos, leader of Project Tyr.<br/> Dr. Olga Brandt, leader of the Valkyrie Program.</p> <p>I have summoned you to discuss recent research developments.</p> <p>Researcher Ceballos has brought an interesting proposal for a new drone control system.<br/> I would like to know your opinion on the matter, Dr. Brandt.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"I'm a bit curious about why Researcher Ceballos thought it was necessary to bring external consulting to develop his project." Brandt was not interested in holding back her punches. "If he has some doubts about our in-house R&D capacities he should externalize them. However, that can wait until the next quarterly meeting. As I have made clear in the past, I'm not an enthusiast on drone warfare."</p> <p>"External expertise was indeed needed for this project. It's my job to ensure we achieved the best results." Ceballos felt a lump in his throat but nevertheless push on; it was his moment to turn the table back on the hag. "We have been trying to improve the physical bodies of soldiers for a while now. And we did achieve impressive results, but is the cost-benefit really worth it? We are a business, not a medical charity after all. Why do we constantly expend small fortunes rebuilding crippled bodies just to send them to be killed or crippled again? In my opinion, the whole philosophy behind our paraprosthetic program should change. And I just found a way to start the disruption. Sir."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Please go on, Researcher.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"The future of war is remote. We already see it with unmanned aircraft. Why risk losing a skilled pilot if we can wage war safely from afar? Also, why invest millions in cybernetics and complicated surgeries just to risk our investment going to waste?" Ceballos paused for a moment, it was challenging to assess the effectiveness of his rhetoric when his audience was a creepy monolith.</p> <p>"The process of integrating the Oneiric Neural Control System is much simpler than a cyborg conversion surgery. Drones are already cheaper than prosthetics and cybernetics. In case of critical mission failure, we don't lose valuable trained personnel, and replacing our assets would be easier. Our whole logistical chain gets easier. We can kickstart a new wave of warfare innovations that would put us decades ahead of our competition. With our exclusivity deal with Raptor Tech, neither ARGUS nor Primordial will have access to similar tech. Cobweb and Myrmidon will be left behind as well. But we must act soon!"</p> <p>Ceballos' blood suddenly froze. He got carried away and now regretted it. Had he been disrespectful to the High Table? He boiled on this intrusive thought for a few eternal seconds until the monolith spoke again:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>A reasonable argument, Researcher Ceballos. Anything to add on your side, Dr. Brandt?</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Ceballos is overselling his case. Interference exists. Remote control signals can be jammed. In the particular case of the proposed oneiric control system, <em>Calea zacatechichi</em> is notoriously unpredictable: dosage is hard to do right. The reliability of having troops on the grounds should not be dismissed. Also, soldiers fight harder when their life is on the line, according to our Psych Department."</p> <p>"Yet, I do think Dr. Brandt is letting herself get carried away by a romanticized and outdated view of warfare." Gael had been emboldened by the CTO's positive response. "The Valkyrie Program is very romantic indeed. But is this the way we should be conducting our business in the 21st century? Remote control and automation are unavoidable tendencies, I'm afraid."</p> <p>"We are not currently discussing full automation, the human element is still present in a drone. Even if not physically on the battlefield, it is always going to be the weakest link in the chain. Instead of "shielding" the soldier in a gilded cage away from the battlefront, we should work on making it stronger and more resilient."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="danke agent"> <p>Please, let's leave this philosophical discussion for another time. For now, Researcher Ceballos has argued his case successfully. We will proceed with his proposal. <em>Óðinn á yðr alla</em>.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Alberto Aureo looked at the flow of traffic, absorbed in his thoughts. Elisa Ridter was sitting at the steering wheel of the car, something which surprised him since being a driver was not within her area of responsibility.</p> <p>Aureo turned his gaze to the folder full of files. With a heavy breath, he flipped open the cover and reviewed everything: was the information in the order correct, did he have all the documents he required, his notes, which he had typed up carefully so that they would look less like they were from his student days.</p> <p>His nervousness was clearly written on his face. At least, that's what he assumed when he noticed the piercing stare of his driver. She did not look away, as if to demonstrate who was in control. Or that would be his assumption, as the eyes were cold and emotionless as always. Like two cameras.</p> <p>Obviously, he was uncomfortable with this, so he averted his gaze.</p> <p>"What do you think about Valravn Co?"</p> <p>Aureo was not expecting her to break the silence.</p> <p>"Excuse me?"</p> <p>"If I may ask: What are your thoughts on the Valravn Corporation?"</p> <p>"I don't really know much about them. I understand we are in the same business of military paratechnology."</p> <p>"In a way that is true. We make and sell weapons to however pays. They, however, have a different philosophy. They don't sell the weapons they make. They sell the war instead."</p> <p>"I'm not quite sure what you mean…"</p> <p>"Your former classmate, Gael Ceballos, do you trust him?"</p> <p>Alberto was taken off guard by the question, "Gael, I… I haven't talked to him for so long. But he was a good scientist… and a close friend."</p> <p>Elisa kept staring at him with her emotionless gaze. Then, suddenly, a glimpse of humanity appeared in her cold eyes. "Alberto. You have been shielded in your lab for too long. Be careful with what lurks out there…" Then she went dead silent.</p> <p>Alberto wanted to keep asking, but a quick glance at her now again impenetrable semblance let him know the conversation was over. It was going to be a long ride to Valravn HQ.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote" style="background-size: 15%; background-image:url(http://scp-wiki-de.wdfiles.com/local--files/interessengruppen/RaptorTec); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center; background-blend-mode: soft-light; background-color: #faf7f7; border: solid darkred 1px; box-shadow: 0 0 3px purple; margin: 8px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 15px;"> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Documents 20.22/1-3/2</em></p> <p><strong>Code Name:</strong> Oneiric Drone Control<br/> <strong>Document Clearance:</strong> Medium</p> <p style="text-align: center;">- - - - - -</p> <p><strong>Product Goal:</strong> Next generation drone control<br/> <strong>Possible Product Name:</strong> R.T.I. SCYLLA<br/> <strong>Status:</strong> Still in development</p> <p style="text-align: center;">- - - - - -</p> <p>The Dreamscape and the material "reality" exist as separate, yet correlated orthogonal planes. Causality feedback loops have been observed to occur between them. In plain words, reality influences dreams, and dreams influence reality. However, the exact mechanism that allows for this interdependence has been the object of unfruitful speculation for ages.</p> <p>The Greeks called it "The Gates of Horn and Ivory", a metaphorical construct that represents this nexus between planes. The dreams that become reality come through the "Gate of Horn". The "Gate of Ivory" is for the "deceiving" dreams. In other words, fantasy. The gates are an ontological crossroad, the point of divergence between the two planes.</p> <p>Recent advances in para-neuropsychology have confirmed the long-suspected theory that a biological correlate of the metaphysical "Gates" exist in the hippocampus. Humans have two hippocampi, one in each hemisphere of the brain. The left one corresponds to the "Gate of Horn". The right one is the "Gate of Ivory".</p> <p>Besides its non-anomalous neural functions, the hippocampus serves as a natural ontological stabilizer, allowing access and communication between the material world and the Dreamscape (the famous Oneirios phenomena).</p> <p>For the application of drone control, it has been proved that a high dose of Compound-M0RPh (<em>Calea zacatechichi.</em>) amplifies the hippocampus's metaphysical activity during REM sleep. Thus, synchronization between a dreamer's hippocampus and an artificial hippocampus module in the drone's chassis becomes possible. This in turn should generate enough ontological stabilization for an Oneiros to control the drone's movements.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"This is…" Ceballos slowly put down the R.T.I. technical document, "a genius solution."</p> <p>"Thanks, I really appreciate it coming from you," Aureo replied without the slightest hint of arrogance, "It is good to be working together again, after all these years.“</p> <p>A smile appeared on Alberto's face. There was a brief hot sting in Ceballos' chest. Aureo was sincere, he was actually happy to see an old friend again. For a very brief moment, Ceballos wished Aureo was lying, so that he would have a human reason to be envious of his friend. Ceballos was just as quickly filled with hot shame that he had wished this.</p> <p>"Are you ready to see our candidate?" Ceballos just wanted to keep his mind occupied.</p> <p>"Of course."</p> <p>"Please follow me."</p> <p>They walked through the metallic corridors of the Valravn facility. It was not so dissimilar to the R.T.I. HQ, thought Aureo. They finally stopped at a large automatic door with a sign reading "Life Support Area". Ceballos used his card on the panel in order to open it.</p> <p>"Is this a…" Alberto muttered, "Gael, why are we at a hospital?"</p> <p>"To meet our candidate, of course."</p> <p>Alberto followed Gael through the medical bay. Several beds were empty. Others were occupied by unfortunate souls. Heavily injured and mutilated survivors of war; barely kept alive by mechanical systems maintaining their hearts adrenalized enough to keep beating and their brains sedated enough to not unplug themselves. Aureo focused his eyes on the floor, avoiding the sight of the suffering surrounding him.</p> <p>Ceballos finally stopped at a bed. An emaciated man rested on it, dead eyes looking at nothing. A weird tube was inserted into his throat, pumping a viscous solution of experimental chemicals and unholy potions.</p> <p>"Alberto, meet Santiago." Ceballos gave him a notepad with the patient file.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="papernote"> <h3 id="toc4"><span>Summary of Candidate.</span></h3> </div> <div class="papernote"> <h4 id="toc5"><span>Prototype: Oneiric Control system for Gorgon Drone</span></h4> <p><strong>Test subject:</strong> 932.<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Santiago Olivera.<br/> <strong>Nationality:</strong> Brazilian.<br/> <strong>Age:</strong> 44.<br/> <strong>Info:</strong> Ex-BOPE operative. 18 years of experience in the Military Police. 4 years working at Valravn. Received several gunshots on last mission, rendered paraplegic. Selected for Gorgon drone project to continue military service despite the condition.</p> <p><strong>Comments:</strong> Subject's brain has been determined to be healthy enough for testing.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Is he… did he consent to be our candidate?" Aureo felt nauseous.</p> <p>"Of course he did. Every single one of our operatives preemptively consents to any 'restoring' procedure in case they end up in an unresponsive state. It is in their contract."</p> <p>"I see… I'm not sure if I…"</p> <p>"Want to help this man?"</p> <p>"No, I… of course, I want to help."</p> <p>"You have always been so selfless, my friend." Ceballos half-smiled.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Alberto was nervous. He had enjoyed the last few weeks working and prototyping alongside his old friend, but now it was time for a demo. The serious faces of paratech researchers and military officials attending the show were certainly intimidating. One of them, a middle-aged woman, stood to him. "Olga Brandt," he thought. Even though Gael had warned him against her, she didn't look that frightening. There was something almost <em>motherly</em> about her.</p> <p>"Is the High Table going to watch?" He asked Ceballos.</p> <p>"Of course."</p> <p>"Where are they?"</p> <p>"They are always watching," said Gael with a smile. He walked in front of two big monitor screens.</p> <p>"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to the demonstration of the Gorgon Drone and the new Oneiric Control System. Please, acknowledge our distinguished guest from Raptor Tech Industries, the man of the hour and the one whose work made all this possible: Dr. Alberto Aureo." Alberto smiled nervously. He didn't like being the center of attention. At least there was no clapping.</p> <p>Ceballos grabbed a remote control and turned one of the monitors. The display showed an idyllic if surreal scene. It was the point of view of a child. He and several other kids played in an inflatable pool in the shape of a pirate ship. Except that sometimes it was an actual pirate ship. A pirate ship that flew into space, while the children floated around in big shiny bubbles.</p> <p>"A very pleasant oneiric imagery, courtesy of our volunteer Santiago. He is currently in a trance state, so he and his Dreamscape will be very responsive to my suggestions. Do you read me Santiago? Time to activate the Gates."</p> <p>The flying ship suddenly crashed into a violet shore. The bubbles flew away, taking Kid-Santiago's friends into the vast Sea of Id. Santiago himself seemed to shift among the scenes. Suddenly he was no longer on the ship's deck but walking in the purple sands instead. In front of him, two gates stood tall.</p> <p>"Please Santigo, move away from the Gate of Ivory. Go into the Gate of Horn."</p> <p>Santiago complied. As he crossed the umbral, a few words appeared on the second screen: "Oneiric connection established. Initializing Gorgon Drone."</p> <p>Now the two screens were on. Santiago was back at the pool party, no trace of the Gates in sight. The other screen showed a night vision cam. The outside of a dimly lit warehouse.</p> <p>"To demonstrate the capabilities of the Gorgon Drone and the reliability of the Control System, we have decided to test a real-world scenario. For now, I want to focus on the capabilities of the Gorgon for melee applications, however, there are plans to eventually add a paralyzing module for capturing live PoIs. In the meanwhile, our friends at the Volk Division<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> have the fortune of being chosen to be part of this demo." Ceballos' smile, as he said those last words, made Aureo feel chills in his spine.</p> <p>"Santiago… play!"</p> <p>The infant-shaped Oneiros began to run on the right screen. On the left screen, the drone lunged into the enemy stronghold. Another kid laughed at Santiago, hugging and lightly pushing him. On the other screen, the drone grabbed a Volk guard with its claws. It tore his extremities apart one by one.</p> <p>The screams of the mutilated soldier grabbed the attention of the other guards. They came to investigate, discovering the killer robot and their unfortunate comrade. Gunfire rained down over the drone. From Santiago's point of view, new friends had come to play. They shot at him with water guns while he ran for cover. He jumped to a height only possible in dreams and fell over one of them. They wrestled lightly until the other child said "You got me!". On the other screen, the drone crushed another unfortunate merc.</p> <p>In the dream, Santiago wielded a wooden sword and played "pirate wars" with his childhood friends. In reality, the drone brutally but efficiently dispatched all of the enemy squad. Children's laughter came from one monitor, men's screams from the other. Alfredo looked at the spectacle in awe and horror. "What have I done?"</p> <p>Eventually, the game changed. There were no longer more pirates to fight. Instead, it was hide-and-seek in a whimsical forest. Most of the Volk troops had already been massacred. The survivors hid in the corners of the warehouse. The joyful Santiago looked for his friends. Whenever he found one, he said "I found you!" and hugged as the drone tore a panicked Volk apart in the other screen.</p> <p>"Respectable audience, we have almost finished this demonstration. Our sensors indicate there is only one target left. Great job, Santiago. Find them!"</p> <p>Santiago found an exotic-looking curtain. He opened it, revealing a little girl hugging her knees. The drone approached a closet door and tore it open. A young woman lied on the floor, crying.</p> <p>Alberto could not stand it anymore. "Gael, that is a civilian! Call it off!"</p> <p>"Interrupting the mission at this point may interfere with our data collection. But I will turn off the Drone Screen for the benefit of the sensible members of the audience."</p> <p>Santiago approached the hiding girl and gently touched her with the tip of the sword. "You got me", the girl laughed.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"What the hell is wrong with you!?" screamed Alberto furiously. "What was that?"</p> <p>"That was the best demo done in years. Why are you acting like this? They loved it. It was a total success."</p> <p>"That was psychotic! Those people… that woman… I don't know you anymore… How could you?"</p> <p>Ceballos expression went somber. He looked directly into his friend's eyes. "Alberto, do you work at Raptor Tech?"</p> <p>"What? Why are you ask…"</p> <p>"Answer the question, Alberto."</p> <p>"Yes, I do."</p> <p>"And Raptor Tech is one the biggest manufacturers of anomalous weapons in the world. Weapons that get into the hands of trash like those Volk fascists we just killed. Do you really not know what they do with these weapons?"</p> <p>"I…"</p> <p>"You were so comfortable in your lab, doing the theoretical work. You were so busy being the smug genius prodigy that you never stopped to ask what they were doing with your research, right?"</p> <p>"I don't want anything to do with this."</p> <p>"But you do. This is not your lab of dreams, this is the real world. This is what we do. R.T.I. and Valravn. You and me. I'm sorry to burst your bubble like this, but this is the deal you signed for."</p> <p>"I… I can't continue. I'm leaving, Gael…"</p> <p>"What? You can't leave! We still have work to do!"</p> <p>"I'm sorry, Gael". Alberto walked away.</p> <p>Gael stood silent for a moment. Then he exploded. "You were always a self-righteous arrogant prick! Can you hear me? Did you ever care to hear me? I don't need you!"</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Ceballos had taken booze, benzos, weed, <em>pasto amargo</em>, anything on his hand to calm his anxious brain. He was so close to greatness, so close to beating Brandt. Yet everything was just about to be ruined by that self-righteous idiot. He plunged into the Dreamscape and found himself swimming frantically against the treasonous currents of the Seas of Id. But this time, the island of violet sands was looking closer and closer.</p> <p>"He is reaching the Gates," said a mantis with a horse head.</p> <p>"You always have to be careful with what you dream of," replied a rainbow-colored axolotl.</p> <p>"Wasn't the phrase about what you 'wish for'?", inquired a lion head with the body of an ant.</p> <p>"Same results. You can ask <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6755">The Lady</a> if you don't believe me," replied the axolotl.</p> <p>"Shut up! You ridiculous pastiches! I always hated the stupid <em>alebrijes</em>!" Yelled Ceballos as he remembered the chimeric <em>papier-mâché</em> sculptures that were paraded in his hometown during Día de Muertos, always giving nightmares to his childhood self.</p> <p>Finally, he found himself stranded in the violet sands of the island. He dragged himself into firm land. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in front of two towering structures. He wasn't expecting the Gates to be that tall, to feel so small and insignificant against them.</p> <p>He stood in front of the Gate of Ivory. Alberto was on the other side, smiling at him. Since their time in university, and even though he never dare to admit it, that smile was the only one that truly managed to warm Gael's heart. And that he could never really forgive.</p> <p>"Fuck you, Alberto. I don't need you. I never did." He muttered while he walked into the Gate of Horn.</p> <p>A synthetic voice replied: "Oneiric connection established. Initializing Gorgon Drone."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"Last night. The Gorgon Drone spontaneously activated. It tore down the armory's door and cause some minor damage to local infrastructure. Nothing relevant to be fair. Unfortunately, it found its way into Dr. Aureo's accommodations," Olga Brandt's tone was weirdly affable, and that unsettled Gael Ceballos much more than if she was being confrontational.</p> <p>"Very unfortunate incident. However, it won't damage our working relationship with R.T.I. I have already spoken with Prof. Veloe. What a charming and understanding man. We will, of course, cover all the medical costs of rehabilitation and paraprosthetics. That's your specialty, after all."</p> <p>"Medical costs? Is he… alive?"</p> <p>"Barely. He will get better with proper care. But it cost him an arm and a leg. Literally. Such a shame."</p> <p>Ceballos was still hungover from his late-night binge. He could barely remember his dream. Did he really… did he really do that to Alberto? It could not be, he could never… Alfredo was his… friend. "No, that was irrelevant," he told himself. He fucked up hard, this incident could have started a war with R.T.I. And if they knew, the High Table would have his head for breakfast. Now he was at the mercy of Brandt, his sworn enemy. The game was over.</p> <p>"It is a shame to watch such a valuable employee waste their life like that?" Olga smiled like a poker player just revealing their winning hand. "Especially after he was just about to return to the field."</p> <p>"Me… Who… Who are you talking about?"</p> <p>"Santiago, of course. It seems he could not handle Compound-M0RPh, hence this unexpected activation. Sadly, I had to mark him for termination."</p> <p>"But he… I…"</p> <p>"It has already been done, Gael."</p> <p>Ceballos freeze. There was no way Olga Brandt didn't know what had really happened. What game was "The Mother of Valkyries" playing? Whatever the case, there was no point in pretending.</p> <p>"Why are you covering me?"</p> <p>"Well, Gael. I think you are a brilliant scientist and enjoy working with you." Brandt replied with motherly voice.</p> <p>Ceballos' brain was at a breaking point. Blue Screen of Death.</p> <p>"Also, you are a sad pathetic excuse of a man. You have mundane and vulgar ambitions that would normally repulse me, but since you are also such weak-willed there is no way you will achieve anything on your own. You represent literally zero threat to me. For that reason alone, it is convenient that you stay around. Else you would get replaced by someone who could actually threaten me." Olga Brandt's delivery was matter-of-factly yet still somewhat polite. Her voice betrayed neither disgust nor contempt. For her, Ceballos was not worthy of even that. "Have a nice day, researcher."</p> <p>Gael Ceballos wandered off Brandt's office. As he stumbled back to his quarters, he could no help but embrace the weak hope that maybe, just maybe… he was still dreaming… that maybe there was still a chance to make it through the Gate of Ivory.</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>. <em>Hoja madre</em> o <em>pasto amargo</em> has been traditionally used in México and Central America to potentiate lucid dreams and perform dream divination.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. Russian anomalous PMC and Valravn's main competition in Eastern Europe.</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>]] The Gates of Horn and Ivory Authors: [[user Kilerpoyo]][[user Einer Von Rabe]] ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains a content warning: 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>]] [[module CSS]] .papernote { background-color: #eaeeef; color: #21252E !important; padding: 0.1rem 0.5rem 0.5rem 0.5rem; box-shadow: 1px 1px 3px 2px rgb(0 0 0 / 30%); margin: auto; width: 100%; } .danke { padding: 5px; margin-bottom:10px; font-family: monospace; font-size: 1.25em; } .agent { background-color:#002200; border: 3px solid #55AA55; color: #0cb9cc; } .site { background-color:#222200; border: 3px solid #AAAA55; color: #DDDD77; } [[/module]] @@ @@ Alberto Aureo and Gael Ceballos met in the Elysium Campus at Eurtec Polytechnique. Their first class together was an optional subject, 'The Ontology of Dreams', which Ceballos only enrolled to fulfill his class quotas. Yet his first memory of Aureo was of that annoyingly brilliant boy, genuinely curious about dream ontology. It was rumored that Prof. Danielopoulos taught at Alexylva University before coming to Eurtec. Whether or not the rumor was true, his classes were very popular, maybe in part because of his powerful lecturer voice: "//Stranger, dreams verily are baffling and unclear of meaning, and in no wise do they find fulfillment in all things for men. For two are the gates of shadowy dreams, and one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those dreams that pass through the gate of sawn ivory deceive men, bringing words that find no fulfillment. But those that come forth through the gate of polished horn bring true issues to pass, when any mortal sees them. But in my case, it was not from thence, methinks, that my strange dream came...//" Danielopoulos remained in silence for a few moments, as to give the class time to assimilate the passage he had just read. "Can anyone of you tell me which is this from?" "The Illiad, professor?" asked a female voice. "Close but not quite, Claudia." "It's from the Oddysey, professor." "As sharp as always, Alberto." Alberto looked like he was always daydreaming, yet he always managed to get the right answer. Ceballos envied him, he wished he was as brilliant and carefree as Alberto. Yet what he envied the most was the way Claudia looked at him. Despite this, the three became close friends during their university years. Ceballos became an accomplished scientist, but he never managed to surpass the geniality of his best friend. Always the second best. Alberto wasn't interested in Claudia, nor in any woman for that matter. Claudias' heart was eventually broken, and Ceballos was there to be a shoulder to cry on. Even though they married, Gael could never shake away the feeling that he was but a consolation prize. Always the second best. @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote" style="border: medium solid grey"]] From: [# g.ceballos@ValravnCorporation] To: [# morosowa@RaptorTecIndustries] Topic: Prototype proposal Content: [[div class="blockquote"]] Mrs. Morosowa On behalf of the Hight Table of the Valravn Corporation, I express the most sincere admiration towards Raptor Tech Industries’ work. I write to you with the intent to hire the technical services of R.T.I. We are developing a new model, but we have faced some difficulties regarding ontological stabilization. I happen to be aware that one of your researchers, Dr. Aureo, has achieved impressive results in that topic. I am confident this venture will be mutually beneficial for our organizations. We would be more than thrilled to work with R.T.I. and Dr. Aureo on this project. Regarding monetary compensation, the Valravn Corporation would spare no expenses for hiring the best in the industry. Signed Mr. Ceballos //Lead Researcher in Paraprosthetics// [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ Gael Ceballos had been writing and rewriting this mail for hours. He had scrutinized every word, overthought every sentence, and agonized about the clarity of his message. Yet he had to admit to himself that, at this point, he was just stalling the inevitable. He clicked 'Send' and the dice were cast. He looked at the web camera on his workstation. It was most likely off, but to him, it served as a clear reminder that at Valravn someone... something... was always watching you. He shrugged away the paranoic feelings and focused on his other monitor, where he had opened the Gorgon Drone documentation: @@ @@ [[div class="papernote"]] +++ Gorgon Drone Technical Brief. [[/div]] [[div class="papernote"]] ++++ Hardware: Gorgon is a remote-controlled close-combat drone. The drone is equipped with 8 segmented limbs ending in gripping claws, used for both mobility and combat. The exterior of the drone is reinforced with titanium alloy, granting remarkable durability in combat scenarios. ++++ Control system: The Oneiros is a Greek concept referring to the personification of a dream. While dreaming, any person has the potential to manifest an Oneiros. Usually, oneiric manifestations are restricted to an alternative plane commonly known as the "Dreamscape". However, interactions between the Oneiros in the dreamscape and the physical world are theoretically possible, given sufficient ontological stabilization. The proposed control system should allow the user to pilot the Gorgon drone through their Oneiros. Oneiric Remote Control offers many advantages over traditional channels, for example, it would be more resistant to interfering and hijacking and range should be a non-issue. However, the drone can only be reliably controlled under a state of lucid dreaming during REM sleep. To successfully achieve this state, Compound-M0RPh, synthesized from //Calea zacatechichi//[[footnote]] //Hoja madre// o //pasto amargo// has been traditionally used in México and Central America to potentiate lucid dreams and perform dream divination.[[/footnote]], should be administered to pilots. ++++ Disadvantages: No suitable Ontoligcal Stabilizator had been found. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/la-llorona.model\| Ceballos was no stranger to ontological stabilization]]]. Yet dreams were a different type of beast compared to ghosts and spirits. Begrudgingly, he had to accept there was only one person in the world that could solve the issue at hand. He risked a lot acting behind the back of Olga Brandt to contact R.T.I. and get the help of his former classmate. "//That old wicked hag//," he thought. It had been a costly move, not only had he had to swallow his pride but also everything would have to go perfectly else he would be at mercy of Brandt's retribution. He sighed and opened a drawer on his desk, he need something to calm his nerves. Lexapro, Benzos, Gaba, CBD, and of course, //Calea zacatechichi.// "//Pasto amargo//", he considered for a few seconds before closing the drawer. "//I need to be sober...//" He had made his move and now he could only wait. But he had a good chance of finally beating Brandt at her own game. For so long time he had lived under the shadow of the Lead Researcher of the Valkyrie Program. It was time for a change. //"The Mother of Valkyries" — what a joke//, he thought. The annoying notification sound of a new email interrupted his mental ramblings. He hurried to open the incoming message. @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote" style="border: medium solid grey"]] From: [# morosowa@RaptorTecIndustries] To: [# g.ceballos@ValravnCorporation] Topic: RE: Prototype proposal Content: [[div class="blockquote"]] Mr. Ceballos We here at Raptor Tech Industries are greatly honoured that the Valravn Corporation has shown some interest in our work. And of course, Dr. Aureo would more than available to participate in this project. If you wish to continue working with us, we look forward to your response. Let's schedule a call to discuss pricing. Signed Mrs. Morosowa //Responsible for Sales and Marketing// [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ Prof. Veloce flipped through the documents, concept drawings, and blueprints. For Alberto, watching the Raptor Tech senior researcher working was a mesmerizing spectacle. While he had grown enough to see Prof. Veloce as a professional rival, the first years in Raptor Tec. Industries with Prof. Veloce as his mentor meant that Alberto still cared about the older man's opinion. "Good. From a purely structural point of view, this is implementable." "Where would the difficulties be?" Alberto knew the old researcher's quirks well, that he could pick out the unspoken 'but' from the tone of his voice alone. "Dr. Aureo, I think you are already familiar with my reservations on //certain// components." Prof. Veloce had never started calling Alberto by his first name. His reasoning was not out of impoliteness — Alberto should be treated as if they were on equal terms. But in most cases, it gave rather the impression that Prof. Veloce was being distant. "Is it the Oneiric Control System?" Alberto was able to hide his frustration enough so that it would not be perceived as rudeness. Prof. Veloce put the documents aside and began cleaning his reading glasses. "I want to make it clear that I don't mind your interest in the Oneiros. I fear what might go wrong. Dreams can be unpredictable." Prof. Veloce handed back the schematics and smiled a smile that teachers show when they knew they had put a dent in the enthusiasm of one of their students. "You're experienced enough to know what will work and what won't. The whole dreaming thing is your pet passion too, so it's not out of the question that I'm mistaken. I am an adult, I should be able to admit a mistake." Alberto took the papers and was about to thank Prof. Veloce for taking the time when a woman entered the room as he was about to leave. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Ridter," Prof. Veloce greeted the newcomer, "How can I help?" Elisa Theodora Ridter was the eldest of the Ridter sibling trio, [[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/eine-seele-in-der-maschine-portalseite \| a notorious family among the ranks of R.T.I.]]] Alberto had very rarely had contact with her before; in the handful of times they had met, he had always found her to be cold and somewhat mechanical. "I was asked to give you this dossier before I leave with my brother. Latest Titan-related updates, I was told you would appreciate being kept in the loop." "Oh, thank you. Yes, I see, I see... Interesting developments. Thank you again for bringing it to me." Mrs. Ridter motioned to leave again, however, she stopped briefly and looked at Alberto with a strange, indefinable gaze. It was longer than the ones she usually gave him. The fact that her eyes were expressionless made it all the creepier. For an imperceptible split second, the woman opened her mouth to say something to him. Then she left without a word. Alberto followed her example and tried to distract himself from that awkward moment. With one hand he fished out his mobile phone and dialed Ceballos' number. @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ Gael Ceballos had a complicated relationship with dreams. He had suffered from insomnia and nightmares since he was thirteen. To help him cope with his night terrors, his //abuela// used to give him //hoja madre//. He still used it to this day, when melatonin and rivotril would just not do the trick. //Pasto amargo// not only gave you a good night of sleep: lucid dreaming was a powerful weapon against nightmares. And Ceballos was planning on turning into a powerful weapon for Valravn. Gael found himself in the middle of the lecture hall. All of his old class was there, including Carmen and Alberto sitting together at the same desk. Instead of Prof. Danielopoulos, Olga Brandt presided over the lecture. "You are late again, Gael." Said the Mother of Valkyries, "and it seems you forgot your pants again." All the class began to laugh at the pantsless Ceballos. Carmen's and Alberto's twisted fingers pointed at their friend while they cruelly laughed. The laughter grew increasingly louder and distorted until it consumed all other noises. Their faces had already mutated into parodic facsimiles of the human visage. They began to make out, their unnaturally long tongues twirling into each other. "Enough of nightmares!" shouted Ceballos as he violently turned the page of his dream. He tore into the fabric of his Subconscious to escape into the unconstrained possibilities of the Dreamscape. He found himself floating in an endless stream of consciousness. Above him //alebrijes//, the oneirozooic inhabitants of the Dreamscape, swam graciously over the noospehric currents. Below him, an island with violet beaches floated above the memetic mists of the Seas of Id. Gael swam frantically towards the island of violet beaches. Dream-logic compelled him to get close, to reach the gates. If only. He felt a colorful cacophony near him. A pack of //alebrijes// galloped alongside. "Gael, Gael", said a snake that was the tail of a red and golden zebra. "Are you the center of everything that happens to you"? "Is he trying to reach the Gates?" Asked the head of the zebra. "Yes, he is trying to reach the Gates." Answered the snake. "Shut up, you damn freaks." "Gael, time to wake up." Said the //alebrijes// in chorus. The ringtone of his phone pierced through the dream like a hot iron nail. A half-sleep Ceballos reached for his phone. Three missed calls from Alberto Aureo. @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ "I am the Lead Researcher on Paraprosthetics of the Valravn Corporation", Gael muttered as he entered the conference room. He had found that reminding himself of his title and achievements was a temporary way to calm his nerves. Yet, a meeting with the High Table was always a torturous and anxiety-inducing deal. A long table occupied most of the room; all of the black office chairs were empty, with one exception. Olga Brandt directed a side look at his rival. "You are almost late, Dr. Ceballos." She discretely pointed at a monolith at the center of the table. "You wouldn't want to keep the CTO waiting." The monolith was a big black prism carved with runic symbols. Ceballos could have never discerned whether it was made of metal or some type of rock. At last, he knew it was not his place to ask. The runic symbols began emitting a soft greyish-blue light. The CTO was online. A metallic voice emerged from the black monolith: @@ @@ [[div class="danke agent"]] Greetings. Researcher Ceballos, leader of Project Tyr. Dr. Olga Brandt, leader of the Valkyrie Program. I have summoned you to discuss recent research developments. Researcher Ceballos has brought an interesting proposal for a new drone control system. I would like to know your opinion on the matter, Dr. Brandt. [[/div]] @@ @@ "I'm a bit curious about why Researcher Ceballos thought it was necessary to bring external consulting to develop his project." Brandt was not interested in holding back her punches. "If he has some doubts about our in-house R&D capacities he should externalize them. However, that can wait until the next quarterly meeting. As I have made clear in the past, I'm not an enthusiast on drone warfare." "External expertise was indeed needed for this project. It's my job to ensure we achieved the best results." Ceballos felt a lump in his throat but nevertheless push on; it was his moment to turn the table back on the hag. "We have been trying to improve the physical bodies of soldiers for a while now. And we did achieve impressive results, but is the cost-benefit really worth it? We are a business, not a medical charity after all. Why do we constantly expend small fortunes rebuilding crippled bodies just to send them to be killed or crippled again? In my opinion, the whole philosophy behind our paraprosthetic program should change. And I just found a way to start the disruption. Sir." @@ @@ [[div class="danke agent"]] Please go on, Researcher. [[/div]] @@ @@ "The future of war is remote. We already see it with unmanned aircraft. Why risk losing a skilled pilot if we can wage war safely from afar? Also, why invest millions in cybernetics and complicated surgeries just to risk our investment going to waste?" Ceballos paused for a moment, it was challenging to assess the effectiveness of his rhetoric when his audience was a creepy monolith. "The process of integrating the Oneiric Neural Control System is much simpler than a cyborg conversion surgery. Drones are already cheaper than prosthetics and cybernetics. In case of critical mission failure, we don't lose valuable trained personnel, and replacing our assets would be easier. Our whole logistical chain gets easier. We can kickstart a new wave of warfare innovations that would put us decades ahead of our competition. With our exclusivity deal with Raptor Tech, neither ARGUS nor Primordial will have access to similar tech. Cobweb and Myrmidon will be left behind as well. But we must act soon!" Ceballos' blood suddenly froze. He got carried away and now regretted it. Had he been disrespectful to the High Table? He boiled on this intrusive thought for a few eternal seconds until the monolith spoke again: @@ @@ [[div class="danke agent"]] A reasonable argument, Researcher Ceballos. Anything to add on your side, Dr. Brandt? [[/div]] @@ @@ "Ceballos is overselling his case. Interference exists. Remote control signals can be jammed. In the particular case of the proposed oneiric control system, //Calea zacatechichi// is notoriously unpredictable: dosage is hard to do right. The reliability of having troops on the grounds should not be dismissed. Also, soldiers fight harder when their life is on the line, according to our Psych Department." "Yet, I do think Dr. Brandt is letting herself get carried away by a romanticized and outdated view of warfare." Gael had been emboldened by the CTO's positive response. "The Valkyrie Program is very romantic indeed. But is this the way we should be conducting our business in the 21st century? Remote control and automation are unavoidable tendencies, I'm afraid." "We are not currently discussing full automation, the human element is still present in a drone. Even if not physically on the battlefield, it is always going to be the weakest link in the chain. Instead of "shielding" the soldier in a gilded cage away from the battlefront, we should work on making it stronger and more resilient." @@ @@ [[div class="danke agent"]] Please, let's leave this philosophical discussion for another time. For now, Researcher Ceballos has argued his case successfully. We will proceed with his proposal. //Óðinn á yðr alla//. [[/div]] @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ Alberto Aureo looked at the flow of traffic, absorbed in his thoughts. Elisa Ridter was sitting at the steering wheel of the car, something which surprised him since being a driver was not within her area of responsibility. Aureo turned his gaze to the folder full of files. With a heavy breath, he flipped open the cover and reviewed everything: was the information in the order correct, did he have all the documents he required, his notes, which he had typed up carefully so that they would look less like they were from his student days. His nervousness was clearly written on his face. At least, that's what he assumed when he noticed the piercing stare of his driver. She did not look away, as if to demonstrate who was in control. Or that would be his assumption, as the eyes were cold and emotionless as always. Like two cameras. Obviously, he was uncomfortable with this, so he averted his gaze. "What do you think about Valravn Co?" Aureo was not expecting her to break the silence. "Excuse me?" "If I may ask: What are your thoughts on the Valravn Corporation?" "I don't really know much about them. I understand we are in the same business of military paratechnology." "In a way that is true. We make and sell weapons to however pays. They, however, have a different philosophy. They don't sell the weapons they make. They sell the war instead." "I'm not quite sure what you mean..." "Your former classmate, Gael Ceballos, do you trust him?" Alberto was taken off guard by the question, "Gael, I... I haven't talked to him for so long. But he was a good scientist... and a close friend." Elisa kept staring at him with her emotionless gaze. Then, suddenly, a glimpse of humanity appeared in her cold eyes. "Alberto. You have been shielded in your lab for too long. Be careful with what lurks out there..." Then she went dead silent. Alberto wanted to keep asking, but a quick glance at her now again impenetrable semblance let him know the conversation was over. It was going to be a long ride to Valravn HQ. @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote" style="background-size: 15%; background-image:url(http://scp-wiki-de.wdfiles.com/local--files/interessengruppen/RaptorTec); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center; background-blend-mode: soft-light; background-color: #faf7f7; border: solid darkred 1px; box-shadow: 0 0 3px purple; margin: 8px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 15px;"]] = //Documents 20.22/1-3/2// Code Name: Oneiric Drone Control Document Clearance: Medium = - - - - - - Product Goal: Next generation drone control Possible Product Name: R.T.I. SCYLLA Status: Still in development = - - - - - - The Dreamscape and the material "reality" exist as separate, yet correlated orthogonal planes. Causality feedback loops have been observed to occur between them. In plain words, reality influences dreams, and dreams influence reality. However, the exact mechanism that allows for this interdependence has been the object of unfruitful speculation for ages. The Greeks called it "The Gates of Horn and Ivory", a metaphorical construct that represents this nexus between planes. The dreams that become reality come through the "Gate of Horn". The "Gate of Ivory" is for the "deceiving" dreams. In other words, fantasy. The gates are an ontological crossroad, the point of divergence between the two planes. Recent advances in para-neuropsychology have confirmed the long-suspected theory that a biological correlate of the metaphysical "Gates" exist in the hippocampus. Humans have two hippocampi, one in each hemisphere of the brain. The left one corresponds to the "Gate of Horn". The right one is the "Gate of Ivory". Besides its non-anomalous neural functions, the hippocampus serves as a natural ontological stabilizer, allowing access and communication between the material world and the Dreamscape (the famous Oneirios phenomena). For the application of drone control, it has been proved that a high dose of Compound-M0RPh (//Calea zacatechichi.//) amplifies the hippocampus's metaphysical activity during REM sleep. Thus, synchronization between a dreamer's hippocampus and an artificial hippocampus module in the drone's chassis becomes possible. This in turn should generate enough ontological stabilization for an Oneiros to control the drone's movements. [[/div]] @@ @@ "This is..." Ceballos slowly put down the R.T.I. technical document, "a genius solution." "Thanks, I really appreciate it coming from you," Aureo replied without the slightest hint of arrogance, "It is good to be working together again, after all these years.“ A smile appeared on Alberto's face. There was a brief hot sting in Ceballos' chest. Aureo was sincere, he was actually happy to see an old friend again. For a very brief moment, Ceballos wished Aureo was lying, so that he would have a human reason to be envious of his friend. Ceballos was just as quickly filled with hot shame that he had wished this. "Are you ready to see our candidate?" Ceballos just wanted to keep his mind occupied. "Of course." "Please follow me." They walked through the metallic corridors of the Valravn facility. It was not so dissimilar to the R.T.I. HQ, thought Aureo. They finally stopped at a large automatic door with a sign reading "Life Support Area". Ceballos used his card on the panel in order to open it. "Is this a..." Alberto muttered, "Gael, why are we at a hospital?" "To meet our candidate, of course." Alberto followed Gael through the medical bay. Several beds were empty. Others were occupied by unfortunate souls. Heavily injured and mutilated survivors of war; barely kept alive by mechanical systems maintaining their hearts adrenalized enough to keep beating and their brains sedated enough to not unplug themselves. Aureo focused his eyes on the floor, avoiding the sight of the suffering surrounding him. Ceballos finally stopped at a bed. An emaciated man rested on it, dead eyes looking at nothing. A weird tube was inserted into his throat, pumping a viscous solution of experimental chemicals and unholy potions. "Alberto, meet Santiago." Ceballos gave him a notepad with the patient file. @@ @@ [[div class="papernote"]] +++ Summary of Candidate. [[/div]] [[div class="papernote"]] ++++ Prototype: Oneiric Control system for Gorgon Drone Test subject: 932. Name: Santiago Olivera. Nationality: Brazilian. Age: 44. Info: Ex-BOPE operative. 18 years of experience in the Military Police. 4 years working at Valravn. Received several gunshots on last mission, rendered paraplegic. Selected for Gorgon drone project to continue military service despite the condition. Comments: Subject's brain has been determined to be healthy enough for testing. [[/div]] @@ @@ "Is he... did he consent to be our candidate?" Aureo felt nauseous. "Of course he did. Every single one of our operatives preemptively consents to any 'restoring' procedure in case they end up in an unresponsive state. It is in their contract." "I see... I'm not sure if I..." "Want to help this man?" "No, I... of course, I want to help." "You have always been so selfless, my friend." Ceballos half-smiled. @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ Alberto was nervous. He had enjoyed the last few weeks working and prototyping alongside his old friend, but now it was time for a demo. The serious faces of paratech researchers and military officials attending the show were certainly intimidating. One of them, a middle-aged woman, stood to him. "Olga Brandt," he thought. Even though Gael had warned him against her, she didn't look that frightening. There was something almost //motherly// about her. "Is the High Table going to watch?" He asked Ceballos. "Of course." "Where are they?" "They are always watching," said Gael with a smile. He walked in front of two big monitor screens. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to the demonstration of the Gorgon Drone and the new Oneiric Control System. Please, acknowledge our distinguished guest from Raptor Tech Industries, the man of the hour and the one whose work made all this possible: Dr. Alberto Aureo." Alberto smiled nervously. He didn't like being the center of attention. At least there was no clapping. Ceballos grabbed a remote control and turned one of the monitors. The display showed an idyllic if surreal scene. It was the point of view of a child. He and several other kids played in an inflatable pool in the shape of a pirate ship. Except that sometimes it was an actual pirate ship. A pirate ship that flew into space, while the children floated around in big shiny bubbles. "A very pleasant oneiric imagery, courtesy of our volunteer Santiago. He is currently in a trance state, so he and his Dreamscape will be very responsive to my suggestions. Do you read me Santiago? Time to activate the Gates." The flying ship suddenly crashed into a violet shore. The bubbles flew away, taking Kid-Santiago's friends into the vast Sea of Id. Santiago himself seemed to shift among the scenes. Suddenly he was no longer on the ship's deck but walking in the purple sands instead. In front of him, two gates stood tall. "Please Santigo, move away from the Gate of Ivory. Go into the Gate of Horn." Santiago complied. As he crossed the umbral, a few words appeared on the second screen: "Oneiric connection established. Initializing Gorgon Drone." Now the two screens were on. Santiago was back at the pool party, no trace of the Gates in sight. The other screen showed a night vision cam. The outside of a dimly lit warehouse. "To demonstrate the capabilities of the Gorgon Drone and the reliability of the Control System, we have decided to test a real-world scenario. For now, I want to focus on the capabilities of the Gorgon for melee applications, however, there are plans to eventually add a paralyzing module for capturing live PoIs. In the meanwhile, our friends at the Volk Division[[footnote]]Russian anomalous PMC and Valravn's main competition in Eastern Europe.[[/footnote]] have the fortune of being chosen to be part of this demo." Ceballos' smile, as he said those last words, made Aureo feel chills in his spine. "Santiago... play!" The infant-shaped Oneiros began to run on the right screen. On the left screen, the drone lunged into the enemy stronghold. Another kid laughed at Santiago, hugging and lightly pushing him. On the other screen, the drone grabbed a Volk guard with its claws. It tore his extremities apart one by one. The screams of the mutilated soldier grabbed the attention of the other guards. They came to investigate, discovering the killer robot and their unfortunate comrade. Gunfire rained down over the drone. From Santiago's point of view, new friends had come to play. They shot at him with water guns while he ran for cover. He jumped to a height only possible in dreams and fell over one of them. They wrestled lightly until the other child said "You got me!". On the other screen, the drone crushed another unfortunate merc. In the dream, Santiago wielded a wooden sword and played "pirate wars" with his childhood friends. In reality, the drone brutally but efficiently dispatched all of the enemy squad. Children's laughter came from one monitor, men's screams from the other. Alfredo looked at the spectacle in awe and horror. "What have I done?" Eventually, the game changed. There were no longer more pirates to fight. Instead, it was hide-and-seek in a whimsical forest. Most of the Volk troops had already been massacred. The survivors hid in the corners of the warehouse. The joyful Santiago looked for his friends. Whenever he found one, he said "I found you!" and hugged as the drone tore a panicked Volk apart in the other screen. "Respectable audience, we have almost finished this demonstration. Our sensors indicate there is only one target left. Great job, Santiago. Find them!" Santiago found an exotic-looking curtain. He opened it, revealing a little girl hugging her knees. The drone approached a closet door and tore it open. A young woman lied on the floor, crying. Alberto could not stand it anymore. "Gael, that is a civilian! Call it off!" "Interrupting the mission at this point may interfere with our data collection. But I will turn off the Drone Screen for the benefit of the sensible members of the audience." Santiago approached the hiding girl and gently touched her with the tip of the sword. "You got me", the girl laughed. @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ "What the hell is wrong with you!?" screamed Alberto furiously. "What was that?" "That was the best demo done in years. Why are you acting like this? They loved it. It was a total success." "That was psychotic! Those people... that woman... I don't know you anymore... How could you?" Ceballos expression went somber. He looked directly into his friend's eyes. "Alberto, do you work at Raptor Tech?" "What? Why are you ask..." "Answer the question, Alberto." "Yes, I do." "And Raptor Tech is one the biggest manufacturers of anomalous weapons in the world. Weapons that get into the hands of trash like those Volk fascists we just killed. Do you really not know what they do with these weapons?" "I..." "You were so comfortable in your lab, doing the theoretical work. You were so busy being the smug genius prodigy that you never stopped to ask what they were doing with your research, right?" "I don't want anything to do with this." "But you do. This is not your lab of dreams, this is the real world. This is what we do. R.T.I. and Valravn. You and me. I'm sorry to burst your bubble like this, but this is the deal you signed for." "I... I can't continue. I'm leaving, Gael..." "What? You can't leave! We still have work to do!" "I'm sorry, Gael". Alberto walked away. Gael stood silent for a moment. Then he exploded. "You were always a self-righteous arrogant prick! Can you hear me? Did you ever care to hear me? I don't need you!" @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ Ceballos had taken booze, benzos, weed, //pasto amargo//, anything on his hand to calm his anxious brain. He was so close to greatness, so close to beating Brandt. Yet everything was just about to be ruined by that self-righteous idiot. He plunged into the Dreamscape and found himself swimming frantically against the treasonous currents of the Seas of Id. But this time, the island of violet sands was looking closer and closer. "He is reaching the Gates," said a mantis with a horse head. "You always have to be careful with what you dream of," replied a rainbow-colored axolotl. "Wasn't the phrase about what you 'wish for'?", inquired a lion head with the body of an ant. "Same results. You can ask [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6755 \| The Lady]]] if you don't believe me," replied the axolotl. "Shut up! You ridiculous pastiches! I always hated the stupid //alebrijes//!" Yelled Ceballos as he remembered the chimeric //papier-mâché// sculptures that were paraded in his hometown during Día de Muertos, always giving nightmares to his childhood self. Finally, he found himself stranded in the violet sands of the island. He dragged himself into firm land. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in front of two towering structures. He wasn't expecting the Gates to be that tall, to feel so small and insignificant against them. He stood in front of the Gate of Ivory. Alberto was on the other side, smiling at him. Since their time in university, and even though he never dare to admit it, that smile was the only one that truly managed to warm Gael's heart. And that he could never really forgive. "Fuck you, Alberto. I don't need you. I never did." He muttered while he walked into the Gate of Horn. A synthetic voice replied: "Oneiric connection established. Initializing Gorgon Drone." @@ @@ ------ ------ @@ @@ "Last night. The Gorgon Drone spontaneously activated. It tore down the armory's door and cause some minor damage to local infrastructure. Nothing relevant to be fair. Unfortunately, it found its way into Dr. Aureo's accommodations," Olga Brandt's tone was weirdly affable, and that unsettled Gael Ceballos much more than if she was being confrontational. "Very unfortunate incident. However, it won't damage our working relationship with R.T.I. I have already spoken with Prof. Veloe. What a charming and understanding man. We will, of course, cover all the medical costs of rehabilitation and paraprosthetics. That's your specialty, after all." "Medical costs? Is he... alive?" "Barely. He will get better with proper care. But it cost him an arm and a leg. Literally. Such a shame." Ceballos was still hungover from his late-night binge. He could barely remember his dream. Did he really... did he really do that to Alberto? It could not be, he could never... Alfredo was his... friend. "No, that was irrelevant," he told himself. He fucked up hard, this incident could have started a war with R.T.I. And if they knew, the High Table would have his head for breakfast. Now he was at the mercy of Brandt, his sworn enemy. The game was over. "It is a shame to watch such a valuable employee waste their life like that?" Olga smiled like a poker player just revealing their winning hand. "Especially after he was just about to return to the field." "Me... Who... Who are you talking about?" "Santiago, of course. It seems he could not handle Compound-M0RPh, hence this unexpected activation. Sadly, I had to mark him for termination." "But he... I..." "It has already been done, Gael." Ceballos freeze. There was no way Olga Brandt didn't know what had really happened. What game was "The Mother of Valkyries" playing? Whatever the case, there was no point in pretending. "Why are you covering me?" "Well, Gael. I think you are a brilliant scientist and enjoy working with you." Brandt replied with motherly voice. Ceballos' brain was at a breaking point. Blue Screen of Death. "Also, you are a sad pathetic excuse of a man. You have mundane and vulgar ambitions that would normally repulse me, but since you are also such weak-willed there is no way you will achieve anything on your own. You represent literally zero threat to me. For that reason alone, it is convenient that you stay around. Else you would get replaced by someone who could actually threaten me." Olga Brandt's delivery was matter-of-factly yet still somewhat polite. Her voice betrayed neither disgust nor contempt. For her, Ceballos was not worthy of even that. "Have a nice day, researcher." Gael Ceballos wandered off Brandt's office. As he stumbled back to his quarters, he could no help but embrace the weak hope that maybe, just maybe... he was still dreaming... that maybe there was still a chance to make it through the Gate of Ivory.	2023-04-28T03:42:00	[ "fantasy", "military-fiction", "mythological", "our-open-veins", "science-fiction", "tale", "valravn" ]	The Gates of Horn and Ivory - SCP Foundation	22	[ "la-llorona.model", "scp-6755" ]	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "our-open-veins-hub" ]	[]	1447529274	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-gates-of-horn-and-ivory
the-lampeter-limited	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="page"> <p>Running is the one thing I remember when it happened. Running from my home that was never my home. Running from friends and family who claim I never existed. Running from the life that was mine, but fell through my fingers as it crumbled around me. I became a stranger in my world, and the world became a stranger to me.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Not having an identity. Drifting through life. Never being able to stay in one place for longer than a few weeks before I find myself somewhere else. I don’t even have control over my destinations. I go to sleep in Paris and wake up in Chicago with no idea how I even got there.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> But one day, I woke up on a train platform that shouldn’t have existed. I had been spending the last few weeks here in Hokkaido and knew there wasn’t supposed to be a train station here. Least of all one whose tracks were two feet below the waterline. But once the train pulled into the station, settled, and opened its doors, I felt a strange pull. Almost like it was calling to me.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> For once, it seemed that I could almost see a path forward in my new existence. So, I grabbed my small pack of clothing and essentials and boarded the train.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> My first trip on the Lampeter Network, ‘though I had no idea where it might take me.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> A Nobody on a train to nowhere.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>‘Hello there, Agent Benetti. A pleasure, as always.’</p> <p>I hadn’t even taken stock of my dining partner as I found an empty seat in one of the Lampeter Train’s dining cars, but I recognized them immediately. The stranger I keep meeting in liminal spaces–transitory areas such as trains, airports, and the like. The Lampeter Network appears to be a favorite of theirs.</p> <p>‘I suppose I should extend the same courtesies. A pleasure…’my friend’? I realize you’ve never shared your name with me.’</p> <p>‘Ahhh, yes, I haven’t. I suppose it’s because I respect you too much to lie to you.’</p> <p>‘Lie to me?’</p> <p>‘I don’t have a name. I certainly lie and use some to blend in. Blake, Rory, Quinn, and so on. It helps if I should find myself running into someone multiple times. Pretend we’ve never met, give a new name, learn new things about them.’</p> <p>A member of the waitstaff arrived to take my order, and I regarded my companion’s meal for a few moments.</p> <p>‘Is that a pulled pork sandwich?’</p> <p>‘Oh, yes. But it’s made from a kind of boar in universe Lambda-36. It’s from their version of Brazil and feeds on a native pepper that is quite spicy. That spice gets built up in their muscle, and that’s why they call it ‘javali picante’. It’s not waffles, but still quite delicious.’</p> <p>I ordered the pulled ‘javali picante’ sandwich.</p> <p>‘So…what are you doing here this time?’</p> <p>‘Should I have a reason to want to enjoy the sights and interdimensional food that the Lampeter Network offers? Just look at that view, Agent.’</p> <p>I had to admit, they had a point. As the train rolled through universe Gamma-842, we were treated to the rolling landscape of the Great Northern Savannah. A herd of gazellodon could be seen lazily wandering across the grasslands and grazing on choice patches of grass. Just over a nearby ridge, the head of a leopardsaurus could be seen poking out to study the prey animals.</p> <p>‘It does have a certain charm to it, doesn’t it…?’</p> <p>They just offered me a bemused smile before taking a moment to dig back into their meal while I patiently waited for my own food to arrive. As they ate, I sat, sipped at my gin, and watched the prehistoric landscape drift by. I saw the leopardsaurus sprinting over the ridge and barrelling towards its prey just as my companion spoke up again, taking my attention away from the fate of the prey.</p> <p>‘Do you ride the Lampeter Network often?’</p> <p>‘Oh, no, I’m on assignment as a liaison to another Foundation. We’re to collaborate on investigating a strange individual who only shows up in…liminal…spaces…’</p> <p>The sudden realization slapped me on the cheek as I stared at the stranger across from me. They simply set down their silverware and offered me a cheeky grin.</p> <p>‘Oh, you’re going to Omega-432? Do give my best to Agent Oliver! She’s been chasing me for quite a while now.’</p> <p>Rules of civility in this dining cart were almost forgotten as I rounded on them with a stern tone.</p> <p>‘… Are you fucking with us? You know we will catch you if you are a threat.’</p> <p>‘Oh, I have no delusions that you all could snatch me up…eventually. That is not why I am not, as you said, ‘fucking with you.’ Nor am I a threat to any form, or iteration, of the Foundation. Like many of the people you Jailers round up, I simply wish to live my life in peace.’</p> <p>My companion waved their hand around to gesture to the surrounding train to emphasize their words.</p> <p>‘This right here. This is all I desire. To meet others in these liminal spaces where my identity isn’t that important and I can get to know their stories. I am not some…entity of destruction, agent. I am a traveler. A wanderer. A lover of people and their stories.'</p> <p>They offered a subdued gesture to turn my attention to a couple a few seats away from us.</p> <p>'For instance… That couple? She’s from Beta-249. He’s from Omega-019. They met here on the train a few years ago as each fled the Jailers in their own dimensions. They took comfort in each other when they met right here in the dining car and spent that night sharing drinks and stories. And they’ve been together ever since. Quite the beautiful story, no?’</p> <p>They gave me the chance to study the two for a few moments as my companion took a drink. The couple looked so happy. A small tinge of jealousy sprang up within me.</p> <p>‘Those two ride this train every year on their anniversary, you know. Just getting a sleeper car and riding the rails. Usually, they find a stop that looks interesting, and safe from you Jailers, and spend a few days in that universe. Other times, they simply ride one way for a while, then ride back to their home universe.’</p> <p>A sudden look of anger flashed over the stranger’s face as their mood turned, but their wine glass quickly hid the expression as they spoke into it before taking a long drink.</p> <p>‘Are you going to haul them away now? Report them to their respective Jailers and have them locked up for daring to exist?’</p> <p>The sudden accusations weren't unusual for me, but something about my companion's reaction… I don't believe I had seen that kind of vitriol from them before.</p> <p>‘… As long as they do not threaten the Veil, I see no reason to do so. Why are you giving me the third degree here?’</p> <p>That look of anger didn’t disappear as they roughly set their wine glass down.</p> <p>‘Oh, perhaps because so many Foundations keep trying to lock up myself and my counterparts across all these possible dimensions?’</p> <p>I sensed that our meeting was coming to an end as the peculiar person before me lightly wiped their mouth with their napkin, tossed it down, stood, and regarded me with more anger than I’d ever seen from them before.</p> <p>‘I lied to you earlier, Agent. I have a name. One you might recognize well.</p> <p>'Nobody.’</p> <p>With that, the Nobody walked out of the dining cart, leaving me to consider the report I’d now have to write up.</p> <p>And the mountain of scrutiny I’d soon be under.</p> <hr/> <div class="page"> <p>This last meeting with Agent Benetti was our… sixth time crossing paths, I believe? Maybe seven, it's hard to keep track sometimes. ‘Though I don’t believe they were aware of the first two chats we had. Still, it was only now that we were both noticing our ‘connection’, if one could call it that. It’s been very rare that I meet the same person more than a couple times. Much less six times!<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I’m not sure if there is any meaning to this new pattern in my strange life, but I have to admit that a part of me is looking forward to getting to see him again. The Network has been the only real consistency I’ve known since I became Nobody. Could it be that the Foundation is secretly chasing after me? Was Benetti feigning ignorance with me as he kept tabs on me?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Or is there nothing nefarious about Benetti at all?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Could it be as simple as the fact I now have a friend?</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The focus of my work shifted once it was confirmed that the entity our Foundation Agents kept reporting on the Lampeter Network was indeed a Nobody. I’ve been assigned a liaison with the SCP-7005 research team for the time being and have spent much of my time simply traversing the Lampeter Network through the dimensions. Primarily by train, but many times I’ve found myself sleeping on busses stuck in weeks-long traffic, lazily drifting through the skies on hot air balloons, and even spending a week riding horseback to reach the next Lampeter station. The Network truly is…something else.</p> <p>As much as I am enjoying seeing the wonders of the multiverse, it has been months since my last interaction with Nobody. At this point, I’m almost certain they are purposefully avoiding me. Not that I blame them.</p> <p>From the reports on the numerous Nobodies the Foundation has kept on file, it is obvious they aren’t, exactly, a coordinated group. Certainly, some work together when they meet each other, but most appear to be independent operatives. Ones whose goals and methods vary wildly. Some are simple observers, trying to find some semblance of the person they lost. Others…are far more active in their attempts to be ‘somebody’ and return to who they once were by pulling strings of the world that ripple out into significant movements. Small actions that become big events as if the Nobody is screaming out 'Here I am! I exist! I'm SOMEBODY!'</p> <p>This Nobody, though, appears to belong to the observer group. My few conversations with them suggest they simply wish to get to know other people and understand their lives. Almost like a collector of stories.</p> <p>They may be gathering information for some Group of Interest, or even just for their own schemes. But perhaps they simply get a kick out of learning about other people’s lives?</p> <p>I also have to wonder…are they lonely? Could it be as simple as these fleeting connections in liminal spaces are the deepest ‘connections’ they can make? Does the Network allow them to be considered ‘a somebody’ on some level? Could it simply be that in these liminal spaces, we all become a little more like Nobody, and closer to who they are?</p> <p>As this particular Nobody keeps coming to see me, I have to ask; what do I mean to this Nobody?</p> <p>Then another question comes to mind…</p> <p>What do they mean to me?</p> <hr/> <div class="page"> <p>Why do I remember being Nobody? Why do others remember 'me' so well when I’m not pretending I’m someone else?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Why does every attempt to be ‘somebody’ always end with everything fading away?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I remember my first day being Nobody. And most days after, as long as I don’t pretend to be ‘somebody’.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I do not remember my first attempt, but I remember when it all fell apart. As soon as I was reminded that I was Nobody, my lack of a sense of self slapped me in the face.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Does that mean that ‘Nobody’ is who I truly am?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Maybe not a lack of a self, but a refusal from the universe to allow me to be 'somebody'. As long as I go along with it, I get to, at the least, be Nobody.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Ugh… I’m tired of trying to philosophize my own existence. I am going to keep pushing myself to try to be ‘somebody’, but I’m beginning to feel as if I am simply screaming into the void.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>It was around the stop for Universe Echo-679 that someone lightly roused me from my sleep.</p> <p>A lightly smiling Nobody greeted me, sitting next to me with a mimosa in each hand. One of which was being offered to me. Perhaps it was risky to trust them, but I took the offered drink, clinked glasses, and toasted.</p> <p>‘À votre santé.’</p> <p>‘’To my health’, eh…? Hmmm… How about la santé des anormaux?’</p> <p>‘To the health of the abnormal…?’</p> <p>A soft sigh slipped from my lips, much to Nobody’s amusement. Still, I drank to the shared toast.</p> <p>‘So…you’re purposefully visiting me now instead of us having ‘chance meetings’?’</p> <p>‘Well, you are the only agent in all the multiverse who’s assigned to follow me right now—since Agent Oliver was reassigned to another Nobody. So I figured I should check up on you every now and then when chance throws us together.’</p> <p>A curious look crossed my face at that.</p> <p>‘'When chance throws us together'? You’re telling me you aren’t in control of where you end up…?’</p> <p>‘Mostly, yes. A part of my condition, I imagine. It seems I can try to force myself to stay in one place for a short while, but one day I’ll wake up somewhere completely new.’</p> <p>My next question was offered in a cautionary way, but I couldn't hide the slight concern in my tone.</p> <p>‘And what if this drifting finds you locked up in a containment cell…?’</p> <p>My drinking partner smiled and gestured wildly with their hands, nearly spilling their drink.</p> <p>‘Then I’ll find myself with a new group of particular individuals I can learn from. You Jailers certainly have a very peculiar perspective on what life should be for the rest of us. At any rate, I’m sure I wouldn’t be staying too long.’</p> <p>‘You think you can so easily break containment?’</p> <p>Nobody laughed lightly and batted away the question as if it was the silliest thing they had heard.</p> <p>‘No, as I said, I just know that I never stay in one place for too long. Whether or not I want to. Except for…here. On the Network.’</p> <p>‘Why? What’s so special about this place?’</p> <p>Nobody fell silent for a few moments, their eyes gazing out the window at the blazing neon lights of universe Iota-006’s Neo Los Angeles. The bustle of the Pacific Mega Harbour that had overtaken the entire borough of Long Beach seemed to have drawn their attention.</p> <p>‘Where are we right now, Agent?’</p> <p>‘Ummm…on a train…? On the Lampeter Network…?’</p> <p>‘Which is always moving. We may stop every now and then, but we keep moving.’</p> <p>Nobody would take a moment to take a long sip on their mimosa before continuing.</p> <p>‘Do you know that only 36 people have actually ridden this entire line from Zeta-999 to Alpha-001? Half of them were members of the Lampeter family.</p> <p>'…'</p> <p>'I think I’d like to join their ranks one day.’</p> <p>‘So, wait, are you suggesting that the Network allows you to stay in ‘one place’? You’re always moving, but you can ride the Network as much as you want without…’wandering’, or whatever causes you to just pop up in different places?’</p> <p>Nobody stroked their chin for a few moments as they leaned back in their chair and gazed up at the ceiling in thought.</p> <p>‘Hmmm…perhaps? I can’t say I really understand who I am, what’s happened to me, why this happened to me, or where it’s taking me. Certainly, some other Nobodies have theories about our predicament, but I feel like ruminating on it won’t really help me.’</p> <p>I took my turn falling quiet, and gazed out the window just as the line skipped between dimensions. The lights of Iota-006’s Neo Los Angeles gave way to somewhere I was unfamiliar with. It reminded me of the Hokkaido seaside and looked absolutely lovely to me, but Nobody seemed a little disturbed by the sight. Finally, I broke the silence</p> <p>‘Maybe this is the closest thing to a ‘home’ you have…?’</p> <p>‘OH! You know, I had never considered that. Perhaps you are right? I do love wandering these corridors more than anything and no other place feels quite so comfortable to me.’</p> <p>Suddenly, the Nobody next to me became quite animated.</p> <p>‘I knew you were a kindred soul, Agent Benetti! You would make a fine Nobody!’</p> <p>The statement had me suddenly choking on my drink, to which Nobody leaned over and slapped me lightly on the back to help me regain my breath.</p> <p>‘Wai-Wait, are you saying I’m turning into a Nobody?!’</p> <p>A small chuckle rumbled out of Nobody as they leaned back in the seat.</p> <p>‘Oh, no. No, no, no. You would know, trust me.’</p> <p>The mirth drained from Nobody as they slowly swirled their drink and contemplated it.</p> <p>‘One day…you’d wake up, sure of who you are. Until you try to remember your name. And find you can’t recall. Did you ever have one? Not a single soul appears to remember you, the concept of "you" is falling apart even in your own head. Friends, family, and your favorite bartender; all have forgotten you. And you can only find faint traces that you even existed. Then those traces slowly fall away, tumbling out of your mind until there’s…nothing.</p> <p>That is when you realize who you are, Agent. You are Nobody. And that is all you can ever be…’</p> <p>We spent the rest of the ride in silence, contemplating our drinks and Nobody’s words.</p> <hr/> <div class="page"> <p>Five months in Boreal-Seattle in universe Zeta-391. The longest I’ve stayed in one place outside the Network’s plans, trains, and automobiles. I thought…<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> FUCK! I thought it all might have finally passed. I had a name, Brynn, I had friends and an apartment. I was becoming known. Becoming somebody.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> A wild night with my new friends ended with me returning home and passing out in my bed. When I woke up, I was in a hostel in Brussels, Germany. They kicked me out pretty quickly when I began screaming and crying in frustration. Even if I hadn’t made a scene, they had no record of me staying with them.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I still had my phone, so I tried calling my friends.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> They didn’t know who I was.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> My landlord had never heard of me.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> It happened all over again.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I was becoming somebody! I was cobbling together a life for myself. Bit by bit, finding some semblance of a stable existence.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And it was stolen once more. Not by a person or thing. But by the universe itself. Reality slapping me around and reminding me that these things are not allowed for me.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Reminding me that I am Nobody.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And that is all I will ever be.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>‘Agent Benetti…’</p> <p>The usually chipper Nobody stepped into my car and took the seat opposite me, much clearly on their mind.</p> <p>‘Hello, Nob-’</p> <p>‘NO! Brynn. Please, Agent… Please call me Brynn.’</p> <p>Brynn surprised me by cutting me off, but I quickly recovered and tried to offer a comforting smile.</p> <p>‘Brynn, it’s good to see you again.’</p> <p>‘The same to you, Agent. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see a familiar face.’</p> <p>Despite Brynn’s words, their gaze was cast across the tracks to the coastal waters of a version of Hokkaido I was unfamiliar with. A pair of whaleotters created enormous waves as they splashed around and played together. After a few minutes, Brynn finally broke the silence.</p> <p>‘Why do you think we keep meeting…?’</p> <p>‘I’m not sure. At first, I thought you just liked something about me. But you’ve said you aren’t really in control of where you end up. Maybe…’</p> <p>I let the thought linger for a few moments.</p> <p>‘Maybe you’re beginning to understand what it is to be ‘somebody’, if only a little. Maybe you’re getting some control-’</p> <p>Brynn suddenly cut me off.</p> <p>‘HAHAHAHA!’</p> <p>The barking laughter surprised me, particularly because it contained no joy. It rang hollow, an amusement with my optimism. I could see tears of frustration building in the corners of Brynn’s eyes.</p> <p>‘I spent the last five months being somebody. I lived in Zeta-391’s Boreal-Seattle. I had friends, a home, a… a life. This is the first time I’ve been back on the Network since we last spoke. Agent, I…I had a name. I had a life. I could use the bits of ‘somebody’ that I had cobbled together after all this time on the Network.’</p> <p>Anger flashed over their face as they slammed their hand into the wall of the car hard enough to leave an indentation.</p> <p>‘It all fell apart again, dammit! Just like fucking always!’</p> <p>The anger quickly melted away as Brynn nursed their injured hand and pulled their feet up to their chest. I had never seen them so…vulnerable. I didn’t want to press them, so I simply sat and offered my presence.</p> <p>Soon, the train rumbled to a stop at a station somewhere around a station I had seen similar versions of in other universes, one that was nestled in the seaside of Hokkaido, and it stirred something within Brynn. They spoke in a soft whisper, as if speaking too loudly would make it all too real.</p> <p>‘Universe Lambda-495. Hokkaido… This is where it all first happened, Agent. This is where I first found the Network and stepped onto the train.'</p> <p>The next five words were spoken with so much pain and anguish in Nobody's voice that it shocked me.</p> <p>'This is my original universe…’</p> <p>I took a few moments to admire the landscape and watch as the whale-otters noticed a pod of tiger-dolphins. The two sped off through the water, leaving another large wake as they playfully chased their new friends.</p> <p>‘It’s beautiful.’</p> <p>‘Yeah… This is the first time I’ve seen it since I woke up on the platform.’</p> <p>‘You’ve never been back?’</p> <p>A harsh, pained laughed curled out of Brynn's throat at the question.</p> <p>‘What does it hold for me? The only memories I have of this world are flashes of me stumbling around in terror as I was denied the chance to have my own life.’</p> <p>A light ‘ding’ rang out through the train to signal the doors were closing and we were soon rumbling off to the next stop.</p> <p>Brynn leaned their head against the window and watched the harbor slip away.</p> <p>‘All this world does is remind me of who I am. And who I’ll never be.’</p> <hr/> <div class="page"> <p>I found a photograph today. It was buried deep in my bag, crumpled and forgotten.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> It was of me and a group of people. We had our arms around each other and were laughing.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I don’t… know any of them, or that version of myself, but it looks like we had been friends. I rarely ever catch myself smiling that much.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> On the back was scribbled a small note:<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Brynn, I know you are reserved and nervous around others. But, we all love spending time with you! Come around more often, please!’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> With a sigh, I crumpled the photo and tossed it away.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I don’t know them. I don’t know that place. I don’t know ‘Brynn’.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Despite the fact I had forgotten ‘Brynn’ and those people, something inside me stirred.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I retrieved the photo, uncrumpled it, and stared as tears fell that I did not understand.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> In a mad rush, I threw out all the contents of my bag and sifted through them. And found four more photos.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Just how many times have I done this?</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The Network is made up of more than a series of trains and platforms. A highway that never ends, a series of carriage rides through The Forest of Fox-Eared Assholes, a lazy balloon ride.</p> <p>Here? I found myself with a pair of skis strapped to my feet, waiting for the lift to take me up to the transfer station. I was too lost in my concern over my poor ability to navigate on skis that I was barely ready when the lift hit my butt and pulled me back into the seat. It was only then that I finally took note of who had been standing next to me as the lift caught both our butts.</p> <p>They kicked their feet lightly as we lifted off, a delighted grin spread over their face while they took in the scenery. Finally, they noticed me and that grin spread even wider.</p> <p>‘AGENT BENETTI! So good to see you, and at one of my favorite transfer stations! Have you been to the Chi-008 Everest station before?!’</p> <p>‘Oh, He-Hello there, Brynn.’</p> <p>Nobody gave me a quizzical look.</p> <p>‘Who…?’</p> <p>It was my turn to be taken aback. They had been so adamant that they were Brynn in our last meeting. I suppose I figured they had found a way to become ‘somebody’, if only a little.</p> <p>‘Oh, my apologies, Nobody. I was thinking about someone else and accidentally said their name.’</p> <p>‘Haha! No worries at all! I might have said that was my name at some point, but we both know names don’t stick around for long with me.’</p> <p>A twinge of sadness ran through me as I watched Nobody happily return to admiring the landscape of Everest. They seemed blissfully unaware of how close they had come to being ‘somebody’.</p> <p>‘You haven’t told me, is this your first time here?’</p> <p>‘Yes… I didn’t quite realize how high up the lift would be taking us…’</p> <p>Despite my reservations, Nobody gestured wildly around at the landscape, causing our lift to bounce a little more than I'd like.</p> <p>‘Ooh, but look at that view! And it’s so much fun tubin’ down from the lift drop-off to the station.’</p> <p>‘Well, I’m afraid I opted for skis..’</p> <p>Nobody laughed brightly at my choice and motioned to the innertube around their arm.</p> <p>‘Oh, no, no. Not for me. I couldn’t ever get past pizza, french fries, all that. I’d much rather feel the rush of my butt being mere inches from the snow as I fly down at unsafe speeds!’</p> <p>‘Well, you will certainly arrive before me. My abilities on skis aren’t much further than where yours are.’</p> <p>With a grin, Nobody turned and showed me their inner tube again, pointing to the handles on the side.</p> <p>‘No worries, it has brakes! I can slow down and keep you company.’</p> <p>Nobody’s excitement was infectious as it brought a warm smile to my lips.</p> <p>‘I’d like that.’</p> <p>As Nobody’s attention shifted away from me and returned to the landscape, the smile drained from my face. And I quietly mourned the loss of Brynn.</p> <hr/> <div class="page"> <p>I have seven photographs now. Each holds myself with a different group and my smiling face. On the back, they all have a note to whoever I had been.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Rori, Sage, Quinn, Alex, Brynn, Kai, and Remi.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> None of those names mean anything to me. Other than reminders of sad attempts for me to claw back a life.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Just like my original life, they all fell apart and slipped away from my memories. And everyone else's.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Even the photos seemed to be rapidly aging over time, the earliest one already appears faded nearly a century. But it couldn’t have been more than a couple of years old. Guess reality doesn't even want me to be able to remember that I've tried to be something other than a Nobody.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> But… why was I holding onto them? To remind myself of my curse? To try and fight it? Or are they just sad attempts to prove I exist as something more than a Nobody?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Who am I trying to prove it to? Myself? Why would I need to do that? I exist right now, so why do I need to prove I existed in the past?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Why should it matter so much to me to know who I had attempted to be?<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The only answer that comes to me now is ‘it doesn’t matter’.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> After all these years of being Nobody, I think I’m finally coming to accept that.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> All these photos, these attempts to be ‘somebody’… They're just lies. Attempts to deny who I truly am.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> So, with a light sigh, I released the photos from my hand. The wind coming through the open-air car of the train quickly picked them up. For a few moments, they danced around in front of me, as if tempting me to grab at them and vainly try to enforce my desires on reality.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> But I don’t move. So they were simply swept outside, the physical reminders of my past attempts to be 'somebody' disappearing just as the mental ones did long ago.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And a small smile lit up my face as I leaned back in my chair to watches the aqua farms of Rho-894’s version of Atlantis drift by.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I’ve finally accepted it.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I am Nobody.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And that is all I want to be.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>After our last meeting, Nobody appeared to have gone underground–or at least their anomalous powers kept us from seeing each other again. Three years had gone by with not even another agent, in my universe or the others we liaison with, catching a hint of them. Soon, the case got put onto the back burner, and I was reassigned.</p> <p>So it was I found myself sitting at a bar in O’Hare airport of my home universe, Mu-842, simply waiting for a plane to take me to Dublin to hunt down some little bastard with a penchant for gutting its victims and coating its hat with their blood.</p> <p>Sitting in a liminal space like this, I can’t help but let my mind drift back to Nobody and our time together. Despite the drive of my supervisors to contain them, I'd been mulling over a thought that could have harsh consequences for me.</p> <p>To be a Nobody is to have a life of isolation. Cut off from even a stable conception of who one is. Many Nobodies work in the shadows, carrying out agendas only they seem to understand.</p> <p>But everything I learned about this one suggests they have no desire to act like that. They do not want to make a large impact on the worlds in an attempt to prove they exist. They simply wish to find some form of human connection–even if it is incredibly fleeting. Just something to make them feel alive, real, and noticed.</p> <p>So it was that I found myself flagging down the bartender as the seat next to me was taken. I ordered two mimosas. One for me and one for my drinking partner. We didn’t even say a word at first, simply waiting for our drinks before taking a moment to smile and clink our glasses lightly.</p> <p>‘La santé des anormaux’, they said with a cheeky grin.</p> <p>With my own cheeky grin, I offered a toast I had been preparing, should I ever meet them again.</p> <p>‘À votre sante ne Personne.’</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-lampeter-limited">The Lampeter Limited</a>" by Corax D, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-lampeter-limited">https://scpwiki.com/the-lampeter-limited</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 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(231, 233, 220) 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 { line-height: 20px; margin: 0; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="page"]] Running is the one thing I remember when it happened. Running from my home that was never my home. Running from friends and family who claim I never existed. Running from the life that was mine, but fell through my fingers as it crumbled around me. I became a stranger in my world, and the world became a stranger to me. @@ @@ Not having an identity. Drifting through life. Never being able to stay in one place for longer than a few weeks before I find myself somewhere else. I don’t even have control over my destinations. I go to sleep in Paris and wake up in Chicago with no idea how I even got there. @@ @@ But one day, I woke up on a train platform that shouldn’t have existed. I had been spending the last few weeks here in Hokkaido and knew there wasn’t supposed to be a train station here. Least of all one whose tracks were two feet below the waterline. But once the train pulled into the station, settled, and opened its doors, I felt a strange pull. Almost like it was calling to me. @@ @@ For once, it seemed that I could almost see a path forward in my new existence. So, I grabbed my small pack of clothing and essentials and boarded the train. @@ @@ My first trip on the Lampeter Network, ‘though I had no idea where it might take me. @@ @@ A Nobody on a train to nowhere. [[/div]] ----- ‘Hello there, Agent Benetti. A pleasure, as always.’ I hadn’t even taken stock of my dining partner as I found an empty seat in one of the Lampeter Train’s dining cars, but I recognized them immediately. The stranger I keep meeting in liminal spaces–transitory areas such as trains, airports, and the like. The Lampeter Network appears to be a favorite of theirs. ‘I suppose I should extend the same courtesies. A pleasure…’my friend’? I realize you’ve never shared your name with me.’ ‘Ahhh, yes, I haven’t. I suppose it’s because I respect you too much to lie to you.’ ‘Lie to me?’ ‘I don’t have a name. I certainly lie and use some to blend in. Blake, Rory, Quinn, and so on. It helps if I should find myself running into someone multiple times. Pretend we’ve never met, give a new name, learn new things about them.’ A member of the waitstaff arrived to take my order, and I regarded my companion’s meal for a few moments. ‘Is that a pulled pork sandwich?’ ‘Oh, yes. But it’s made from a kind of boar in universe Lambda-36. It’s from their version of Brazil and feeds on a native pepper that is quite spicy. That spice gets built up in their muscle, and that’s why they call it ‘javali picante’. It’s not waffles, but still quite delicious.’ I ordered the pulled ‘javali picante’ sandwich. ‘So…what are you doing here this time?’ ‘Should I have a reason to want to enjoy the sights and interdimensional food that the Lampeter Network offers? Just look at that view, Agent.’ I had to admit, they had a point. As the train rolled through universe Gamma-842, we were treated to the rolling landscape of the Great Northern Savannah. A herd of gazellodon could be seen lazily wandering across the grasslands and grazing on choice patches of grass. Just over a nearby ridge, the head of a leopardsaurus could be seen poking out to study the prey animals. ‘It does have a certain charm to it, doesn’t it…?’ They just offered me a bemused smile before taking a moment to dig back into their meal while I patiently waited for my own food to arrive. As they ate, I sat, sipped at my gin, and watched the prehistoric landscape drift by. I saw the leopardsaurus sprinting over the ridge and barrelling towards its prey just as my companion spoke up again, taking my attention away from the fate of the prey. ‘Do you ride the Lampeter Network often?’ ‘Oh, no, I’m on assignment as a liaison to another Foundation. We’re to collaborate on investigating a strange individual who only shows up in…liminal…spaces…’ The sudden realization slapped me on the cheek as I stared at the stranger across from me. They simply set down their silverware and offered me a cheeky grin. ‘Oh, you’re going to Omega-432? Do give my best to Agent Oliver! She’s been chasing me for quite a while now.’ Rules of civility in this dining cart were almost forgotten as I rounded on them with a stern tone. ‘… Are you fucking with us? You know we will catch you if you are a threat.’ ‘Oh, I have no delusions that you all could snatch me up…eventually. That is not why I am not, as you said, ‘fucking with you.’ Nor am I a threat to any form, or iteration, of the Foundation. Like many of the people you Jailers round up, I simply wish to live my life in peace.’ My companion waved their hand around to gesture to the surrounding train to emphasize their words. ‘This right here. This is all I desire. To meet others in these liminal spaces where my identity isn’t that important and I can get to know their stories. I am not some…entity of destruction, agent. I am a traveler. A wanderer. A lover of people and their stories.' They offered a subdued gesture to turn my attention to a couple a few seats away from us. 'For instance… That couple? She’s from Beta-249. He’s from Omega-019. They met here on the train a few years ago as each fled the Jailers in their own dimensions. They took comfort in each other when they met right here in the dining car and spent that night sharing drinks and stories. And they’ve been together ever since. Quite the beautiful story, no?’ They gave me the chance to study the two for a few moments as my companion took a drink. The couple looked so happy. A small tinge of jealousy sprang up within me. ‘Those two ride this train every year on their anniversary, you know. Just getting a sleeper car and riding the rails. Usually, they find a stop that looks interesting, and safe from you Jailers, and spend a few days in that universe. Other times, they simply ride one way for a while, then ride back to their home universe.’ A sudden look of anger flashed over the stranger’s face as their mood turned, but their wine glass quickly hid the expression as they spoke into it before taking a long drink. ‘Are you going to haul them away now? Report them to their respective Jailers and have them locked up for daring to exist?’ The sudden accusations weren't unusual for me, but something about my companion's reaction... I don't believe I had seen that kind of vitriol from them before. ‘… As long as they do not threaten the Veil, I see no reason to do so. Why are you giving me the third degree here?’ That look of anger didn’t disappear as they roughly set their wine glass down. ‘Oh, perhaps because so many Foundations keep trying to lock up myself and my counterparts across all these possible dimensions?’ I sensed that our meeting was coming to an end as the peculiar person before me lightly wiped their mouth with their napkin, tossed it down, stood, and regarded me with more anger than I’d ever seen from them before. ‘I lied to you earlier, Agent. I have a name. One you might recognize well. 'Nobody.’ With that, the Nobody walked out of the dining cart, leaving me to consider the report I’d now have to write up. And the mountain of scrutiny I’d soon be under. ----- [[div class="page"]] This last meeting with Agent Benetti was our… sixth time crossing paths, I believe? Maybe seven, it's hard to keep track sometimes. ‘Though I don’t believe they were aware of the first two chats we had. Still, it was only now that we were both noticing our ‘connection’, if one could call it that. It’s been very rare that I meet the same person more than a couple times. Much less six times! @@ @@ I’m not sure if there is any meaning to this new pattern in my strange life, but I have to admit that a part of me is looking forward to getting to see him again. The Network has been the only real consistency I’ve known since I became Nobody. Could it be that the Foundation is secretly chasing after me? Was Benetti feigning ignorance with me as he kept tabs on me? @@ @@ Or is there nothing nefarious about Benetti at all? @@ @@ Could it be as simple as the fact I now have a friend? [[/div]] ----- The focus of my work shifted once it was confirmed that the entity our Foundation Agents kept reporting on the Lampeter Network was indeed a Nobody. I’ve been assigned a liaison with the SCP-7005 research team for the time being and have spent much of my time simply traversing the Lampeter Network through the dimensions. Primarily by train, but many times I’ve found myself sleeping on busses stuck in weeks-long traffic, lazily drifting through the skies on hot air balloons, and even spending a week riding horseback to reach the next Lampeter station. The Network truly is…something else. As much as I am enjoying seeing the wonders of the multiverse, it has been months since my last interaction with Nobody. At this point, I’m almost certain they are purposefully avoiding me. Not that I blame them. From the reports on the numerous Nobodies the Foundation has kept on file, it is obvious they aren’t, exactly, a coordinated group. Certainly, some work together when they meet each other, but most appear to be independent operatives. Ones whose goals and methods vary wildly. Some are simple observers, trying to find some semblance of the person they lost. Others…are far more active in their attempts to be ‘somebody’ and return to who they once were by pulling strings of the world that ripple out into significant movements. Small actions that become big events as if the Nobody is screaming out 'Here I am! I exist! I'm SOMEBODY!' This Nobody, though, appears to belong to the observer group. My few conversations with them suggest they simply wish to get to know other people and understand their lives. Almost like a collector of stories. They may be gathering information for some Group of Interest, or even just for their own schemes. But perhaps they simply get a kick out of learning about other people’s lives? I also have to wonder…are they lonely? Could it be as simple as these fleeting connections in liminal spaces are the deepest ‘connections’ they can make? Does the Network allow them to be considered ‘a somebody’ on some level? Could it simply be that in these liminal spaces, we all become a little more like Nobody, and closer to who they are? As this particular Nobody keeps coming to see me, I have to ask; what do I mean to this Nobody? Then another question comes to mind… What do they mean to me? ----- [[div class="page"]] Why do I remember being Nobody? Why do others remember 'me' so well when I’m not pretending I’m someone else? @@ @@ Why does every attempt to be ‘somebody’ always end with everything fading away? @@ @@ I remember my first day being Nobody. And most days after, as long as I don’t pretend to be ‘somebody’. @@ @@ I do not remember my first attempt, but I remember when it all fell apart. As soon as I was reminded that I was Nobody, my lack of a sense of self slapped me in the face. @@ @@ Does that mean that ‘Nobody’ is who I truly am? @@ @@ Maybe not a lack of a self, but a refusal from the universe to allow me to be 'somebody'. As long as I go along with it, I get to, at the least, be Nobody. @@ @@ Ugh… I’m tired of trying to philosophize my own existence. I am going to keep pushing myself to try to be ‘somebody’, but I’m beginning to feel as if I am simply screaming into the void. [[/div]] ----- It was around the stop for Universe Echo-679 that someone lightly roused me from my sleep. A lightly smiling Nobody greeted me, sitting next to me with a mimosa in each hand. One of which was being offered to me. Perhaps it was risky to trust them, but I took the offered drink, clinked glasses, and toasted. ‘À votre santé.’ ‘’To my health’, eh…? Hmmm… How about la santé des anormaux?’ ‘To the health of the abnormal…?’ A soft sigh slipped from my lips, much to Nobody’s amusement. Still, I drank to the shared toast. ‘So…you’re purposefully visiting me now instead of us having ‘chance meetings’?’ ‘Well, you are the only agent in all the multiverse who’s assigned to follow me right now—since Agent Oliver was reassigned to another Nobody. So I figured I should check up on you every now and then when chance throws us together.’ A curious look crossed my face at that. ‘'When chance throws us together'? You’re telling me you aren’t in control of where you end up…?’ ‘Mostly, yes. A part of my condition, I imagine. It seems I can try to force myself to stay in one place for a short while, but one day I’ll wake up somewhere completely new.’ My next question was offered in a cautionary way, but I couldn't hide the slight concern in my tone. ‘And what if this drifting finds you locked up in a containment cell…?’ My drinking partner smiled and gestured wildly with their hands, nearly spilling their drink. ‘Then I’ll find myself with a new group of particular individuals I can learn from. You Jailers certainly have a very peculiar perspective on what life should be for the rest of us. At any rate, I’m sure I wouldn’t be staying too long.’ ‘You think you can so easily break containment?’ Nobody laughed lightly and batted away the question as if it was the silliest thing they had heard. ‘No, as I said, I just know that I never stay in one place for too long. Whether or not I want to. Except for…here. On the Network.’ ‘Why? What’s so special about this place?’ Nobody fell silent for a few moments, their eyes gazing out the window at the blazing neon lights of universe Iota-006’s Neo Los Angeles. The bustle of the Pacific Mega Harbour that had overtaken the entire borough of Long Beach seemed to have drawn their attention. ‘Where are we right now, Agent?’ ‘Ummm…on a train…? On the Lampeter Network…?’ ‘Which is always moving. We may stop every now and then, but we keep moving.’ Nobody would take a moment to take a long sip on their mimosa before continuing. ‘Do you know that only 36 people have actually ridden this entire line from Zeta-999 to Alpha-001? Half of them were members of the Lampeter family. '…' 'I think I’d like to join their ranks one day.’ ‘So, wait, are you suggesting that the Network allows you to stay in ‘one place’? You’re always moving, but you can ride the Network as much as you want without…’wandering’, or whatever causes you to just pop up in different places?’ Nobody stroked their chin for a few moments as they leaned back in their chair and gazed up at the ceiling in thought. ‘Hmmm…perhaps? I can’t say I really understand who I am, what’s happened to me, why this happened to me, or where it’s taking me. Certainly, some other Nobodies have theories about our predicament, but I feel like ruminating on it won’t really help me.’ I took my turn falling quiet, and gazed out the window just as the line skipped between dimensions. The lights of Iota-006’s Neo Los Angeles gave way to somewhere I was unfamiliar with. It reminded me of the Hokkaido seaside and looked absolutely lovely to me, but Nobody seemed a little disturbed by the sight. Finally, I broke the silence ‘Maybe this is the closest thing to a ‘home’ you have…?’ ‘OH! You know, I had never considered that. Perhaps you are right? I do love wandering these corridors more than anything and no other place feels quite so comfortable to me.’ Suddenly, the Nobody next to me became quite animated. ‘I knew you were a kindred soul, Agent Benetti! You would make a fine Nobody!’ The statement had me suddenly choking on my drink, to which Nobody leaned over and slapped me lightly on the back to help me regain my breath. ‘Wai-Wait, are you saying I’m turning into a Nobody?!’ A small chuckle rumbled out of Nobody as they leaned back in the seat. ‘Oh, no. No, no, no. You would know, trust me.’ The mirth drained from Nobody as they slowly swirled their drink and contemplated it. ‘One day…you’d wake up, sure of who you are. Until you try to remember your name. And find you can’t recall. Did you ever have one? Not a single soul appears to remember you, the concept of "you" is falling apart even in your own head. Friends, family, and your favorite bartender; all have forgotten you. And you can only find faint traces that you even existed. Then those traces slowly fall away, tumbling out of your mind until there’s…nothing. That is when you realize who you are, Agent. You are Nobody. And that is all you can ever be…’ We spent the rest of the ride in silence, contemplating our drinks and Nobody’s words. ----- [[div class="page"]] Five months in Boreal-Seattle in universe Zeta-391. The longest I’ve stayed in one place outside the Network’s plans, trains, and automobiles. I thought… @@ @@ FUCK! I thought it all might have finally passed. I had a name, Brynn, I had friends and an apartment. I was becoming known. Becoming somebody. @@ @@ A wild night with my new friends ended with me returning home and passing out in my bed. When I woke up, I was in a hostel in Brussels, Germany. They kicked me out pretty quickly when I began screaming and crying in frustration. Even if I hadn’t made a scene, they had no record of me staying with them. @@ @@ I still had my phone, so I tried calling my friends. @@ @@ They didn’t know who I was. @@ @@ My landlord had never heard of me. @@ @@ It happened all over again. @@ @@ I was becoming somebody! I was cobbling together a life for myself. Bit by bit, finding some semblance of a stable existence. @@ @@ And it was stolen once more. Not by a person or thing. But by the universe itself. Reality slapping me around and reminding me that these things are not allowed for me. @@ @@ Reminding me that I am Nobody. @@ @@ And that is all I will ever be. [[/div]] ----- ‘Agent Benetti…’ The usually chipper Nobody stepped into my car and took the seat opposite me, much clearly on their mind. ‘Hello, Nob-’ ‘NO! Brynn. Please, Agent... Please call me Brynn.’ Brynn surprised me by cutting me off, but I quickly recovered and tried to offer a comforting smile. ‘Brynn, it’s good to see you again.’ ‘The same to you, Agent. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see a familiar face.’ Despite Brynn’s words, their gaze was cast across the tracks to the coastal waters of a version of Hokkaido I was unfamiliar with. A pair of whaleotters created enormous waves as they splashed around and played together. After a few minutes, Brynn finally broke the silence. ‘Why do you think we keep meeting…?’ ‘I’m not sure. At first, I thought you just liked something about me. But you’ve said you aren’t really in control of where you end up. Maybe…’ I let the thought linger for a few moments. ‘Maybe you’re beginning to understand what it is to be ‘somebody’, if only a little. Maybe you’re getting some control-’ Brynn suddenly cut me off. ‘HAHAHAHA!’ The barking laughter surprised me, particularly because it contained no joy. It rang hollow, an amusement with my optimism. I could see tears of frustration building in the corners of Brynn’s eyes. ‘I spent the last five months being somebody. I lived in Zeta-391’s Boreal-Seattle. I had friends, a home, a… a life. This is the first time I’ve been back on the Network since we last spoke. Agent, I…I had a name. I had a life. I could use the bits of ‘somebody’ that I had cobbled together after all this time on the Network.’ Anger flashed over their face as they slammed their hand into the wall of the car hard enough to leave an indentation. ‘It all fell apart again, dammit! Just like fucking always!’ The anger quickly melted away as Brynn nursed their injured hand and pulled their feet up to their chest. I had never seen them so…vulnerable. I didn’t want to press them, so I simply sat and offered my presence. Soon, the train rumbled to a stop at a station somewhere around a station I had seen similar versions of in other universes, one that was nestled in the seaside of Hokkaido, and it stirred something within Brynn. They spoke in a soft whisper, as if speaking too loudly would make it all too real. ‘Universe Lambda-495. Hokkaido… This is where it all first happened, Agent. This is where I first found the Network and stepped onto the train.' The next five words were spoken with so much pain and anguish in Nobody's voice that it shocked me. 'This is my original universe…’ I took a few moments to admire the landscape and watch as the whale-otters noticed a pod of tiger-dolphins. The two sped off through the water, leaving another large wake as they playfully chased their new friends. ‘It’s beautiful.’ ‘Yeah… This is the first time I’ve seen it since I woke up on the platform.’ ‘You’ve never been back?’ A harsh, pained laughed curled out of Brynn's throat at the question. ‘What does it hold for me? The only memories I have of this world are flashes of me stumbling around in terror as I was denied the chance to have my own life.’ A light ‘ding’ rang out through the train to signal the doors were closing and we were soon rumbling off to the next stop. Brynn leaned their head against the window and watched the harbor slip away. ‘All this world does is remind me of who I am. And who I’ll never be.’ ----- [[div class="page"]] I found a photograph today. It was buried deep in my bag, crumpled and forgotten. @@ @@ It was of me and a group of people. We had our arms around each other and were laughing. @@ @@ I don’t... know any of them, or that version of myself, but it looks like we had been friends. I rarely ever catch myself smiling that much. @@ @@ On the back was scribbled a small note: @@ @@ ‘Brynn, I know you are reserved and nervous around others. But, we all love spending time with you! Come around more often, please!’ @@ @@ With a sigh, I crumpled the photo and tossed it away. @@ @@ I don’t know them. I don’t know that place. I don’t know ‘Brynn’. @@ @@ Despite the fact I had forgotten ‘Brynn’ and those people, something inside me stirred. @@ @@ I retrieved the photo, uncrumpled it, and stared as tears fell that I did not understand. @@ @@ In a mad rush, I threw out all the contents of my bag and sifted through them. And found four more photos. @@ @@ Just how many times have I done this? [[/div]] ----- The Network is made up of more than a series of trains and platforms. A highway that never ends, a series of carriage rides through The Forest of Fox-Eared Assholes, a lazy balloon ride. Here? I found myself with a pair of skis strapped to my feet, waiting for the lift to take me up to the transfer station. I was too lost in my concern over my poor ability to navigate on skis that I was barely ready when the lift hit my butt and pulled me back into the seat. It was only then that I finally took note of who had been standing next to me as the lift caught both our butts. They kicked their feet lightly as we lifted off, a delighted grin spread over their face while they took in the scenery. Finally, they noticed me and that grin spread even wider. ‘AGENT BENETTI! So good to see you, and at one of my favorite transfer stations! Have you been to the Chi-008 Everest station before?!’ ‘Oh, He-Hello there, Brynn.’ Nobody gave me a quizzical look. ‘Who…?’ It was my turn to be taken aback. They had been so adamant that they were Brynn in our last meeting. I suppose I figured they had found a way to become ‘somebody’, if only a little. ‘Oh, my apologies, Nobody. I was thinking about someone else and accidentally said their name.’ ‘Haha! No worries at all! I might have said that was my name at some point, but we both know names don’t stick around for long with me.’ A twinge of sadness ran through me as I watched Nobody happily return to admiring the landscape of Everest. They seemed blissfully unaware of how close they had come to being ‘somebody’. ‘You haven’t told me, is this your first time here?’ ‘Yes… I didn’t quite realize how high up the lift would be taking us…’ Despite my reservations, Nobody gestured wildly around at the landscape, causing our lift to bounce a little more than I'd like. ‘Ooh, but look at that view! And it’s so much fun tubin’ down from the lift drop-off to the station.’ ‘Well, I’m afraid I opted for skis..’ Nobody laughed brightly at my choice and motioned to the innertube around their arm. ‘Oh, no, no. Not for me. I couldn’t ever get past pizza, french fries, all that. I’d much rather feel the rush of my butt being mere inches from the snow as I fly down at unsafe speeds!’ ‘Well, you will certainly arrive before me. My abilities on skis aren’t much further than where yours are.’ With a grin, Nobody turned and showed me their inner tube again, pointing to the handles on the side. ‘No worries, it has brakes! I can slow down and keep you company.’ Nobody’s excitement was infectious as it brought a warm smile to my lips. ‘I’d like that.’ As Nobody’s attention shifted away from me and returned to the landscape, the smile drained from my face. And I quietly mourned the loss of Brynn. ----- [[div class="page"]] I have seven photographs now. Each holds myself with a different group and my smiling face. On the back, they all have a note to whoever I had been. @@ @@ Rori, Sage, Quinn, Alex, Brynn, Kai, and Remi. @@ @@ None of those names mean anything to me. Other than reminders of sad attempts for me to claw back a life. @@ @@ Just like my original life, they all fell apart and slipped away from my memories. And everyone else's. @@ @@ Even the photos seemed to be rapidly aging over time, the earliest one already appears faded nearly a century. But it couldn’t have been more than a couple of years old. Guess reality doesn't even want me to be able to remember that I've tried to be something other than a Nobody. @@ @@ But... why was I holding onto them? To remind myself of my curse? To try and fight it? Or are they just sad attempts to prove I exist as something more than a Nobody? @@ @@ Who am I trying to prove it to? Myself? Why would I need to do that? I exist right now, so why do I need to prove I existed in the past? @@ @@ Why should it matter so much to me to know who I had attempted to be? @@ @@ The only answer that comes to me now is ‘it doesn’t matter’. @@ @@ After all these years of being Nobody, I think I’m finally coming to accept that. @@ @@ All these photos, these attempts to be ‘somebody’... They're just lies. Attempts to deny who I truly am. @@ @@ So, with a light sigh, I released the photos from my hand. The wind coming through the open-air car of the train quickly picked them up. For a few moments, they danced around in front of me, as if tempting me to grab at them and vainly try to enforce my desires on reality. @@ @@ But I don’t move. So they were simply swept outside, the physical reminders of my past attempts to be 'somebody' disappearing just as the mental ones did long ago. @@ @@ And a small smile lit up my face as I leaned back in my chair to watches the aqua farms of Rho-894’s version of Atlantis drift by. @@ @@ I’ve finally accepted it. @@ @@ I am Nobody. @@ @@ And that is all I want to be. [[/div]] ----- After our last meeting, Nobody appeared to have gone underground–or at least their anomalous powers kept us from seeing each other again. Three years had gone by with not even another agent, in my universe or the others we liaison with, catching a hint of them. Soon, the case got put onto the back burner, and I was reassigned. So it was I found myself sitting at a bar in O’Hare airport of my home universe, Mu-842, simply waiting for a plane to take me to Dublin to hunt down some little bastard with a penchant for gutting its victims and coating its hat with their blood. Sitting in a liminal space like this, I can’t help but let my mind drift back to Nobody and our time together. Despite the drive of my supervisors to contain them, I'd been mulling over a thought that could have harsh consequences for me. To be a Nobody is to have a life of isolation. Cut off from even a stable conception of who one is. Many Nobodies work in the shadows, carrying out agendas only they seem to understand. But everything I learned about this one suggests they have no desire to act like that. They do not want to make a large impact on the worlds in an attempt to prove they exist. They simply wish to find some form of human connection–even if it is incredibly fleeting. Just something to make them feel alive, real, and noticed. So it was that I found myself flagging down the bartender as the seat next to me was taken. I ordered two mimosas. One for me and one for my drinking partner. We didn’t even say a word at first, simply waiting for our drinks before taking a moment to smile and clink our glasses lightly. ‘La santé des anormaux’, they said with a cheeky grin. With my own cheeky grin, I offered a toast I had been preparing, should I ever meet them again. ‘À votre sante ne Personne.’ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Corax D]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-14T23:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "first-person", "lampeter", "mystery", "nobody", "otherworldly", "tale" ]	The Lampeter Limited - SCP Foundation	41	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "nobody-hub", "lampeter-hub" ]	[]	1450679832	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lampeter-limited
the-lost-spire-part-1	<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">'); 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</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 class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">WarriorofChaos</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>The Lost Spire (Part 1)</strong> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/warriorofchaos" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4246396); return false;"><img alt="WarriorofChaos" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4246396&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032355" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4246396)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/warriorofchaos" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4246396); return false;">WarriorofChaos</a></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote" style="width: intrinsic; width: -moz-max-content; width: -webkit-max-content; text-align:center; margin: 10px auto;"> <p><strong><a href="https://youtu.be/lR2lMI5Wn-A" target="_blank">Recommended reading music</a></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>2008</span></h1> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc1"><span>20th of March</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>Cave Entrance: Dingle Peninsula, Co. Kerry, Ireland</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>“This is the entrance to the ruins?”</p> <p>“Yeah, this hole heads straight down.”</p> <p>“How do you know for sure it’s connected to the Fae Empire?”</p> <p>“Hey, I may still be a rookie, but I’ve seen a lot of the crazy crap Site-120 gets involved with, and when I took a peek inside the ruins, I saw writing on the walls that matched the Fae artifacts I’ve seen in Vemhoff's department.”</p> <p>Standing before the recently uncovered hole leading into the mysterious underground cavern, Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Jessie Rivera, and junior Site-120 archeologist Chris Halloran are preparing to conduct the on-site investigation of the caverns. MTF units and mobile researchers are present to assist the investigators and ensure civilians don’t enter the area.</p> <p>“I still think it’s crazy. I mean, how did a relaxing family trip turn into discovering more ruins?! I honestly didn’t plan this.” Chris said, feeling dumbstruck by his unexpected luck.</p> <p>“Either way, you should be proud of yourself.” Rivera said to Chris with a slight grin. He’d only started working for Site-120 several months earlier, yet she and many of the other personnel had already grown to admire his fascination for ancient civilizations and his charming sense of curiosity.</p> <p>“Don’t get me wrong, I’m annoyed I have to scrap my day off, but I’m intrigued to see what’s down there! Plus, at the very least I’ll be credited for the discovery.”</p> <p>“I guess that is something to help improve one’s mood.” Asheworth says as he pulls out his EVE Emission Scanning Portable Radar tablet, or EESPR for short. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7629">Ever since they discovered Arcadia back in 1998</a>, Site-120’s Research and Maintenance teams, along with assistance from other sites, have researched extensively to develop more durable and versatile EVE scanners for their personnel. The new EESPRs are not only capable of handling incredibly vast amounts of EVE radiation without risk of overloading, but are even able to identify the specific form of EVE that is being detected, meaning it can inform the user what type of entities or objects the readings are coming from.</p> <p>Asheworth takes a few steps closer as he points the radar towards the mouth of the cave and proceeds to scan the entrance. Twelve seconds later it finishes analyzing and the readings are displayed.</p> <p>“So, what do we got Daniel? You pick up anything?” Rivera asks as she comes to Asheworth’s side to view the radar’s readings.</p> <p>“Well, I’m getting some faint traces of residual EVE coming from deep in the tunnels. It’s old and degraded, but the readings say it’s definitely of Fae origin.” He turns to Halloran to inform him of the results. “You were right Chris; these are indeed Fae ruins.”</p> <p>“See? I knew I was right! You guys can thank me later when we’re not busy.” Chris said with a satisfied laugh.</p> <p>“Yes Chris, we’ll pat you on the back when this is all over. But the question now is, what was this structure for?” Rivera says as she stares down the dark tunnel.</p> <p>“I think it’s time we find out. Let’s gather up a squad and get geared up. I’ll inform command of the current findings.” Asheworth says as he puts away the EESPR and proceeds to walk back to the on-site camp.</p> <p>“Roger that, doc. But do we really have to bring a task force with us though? I mean it’s just ruins.” asked Chris.</p> <p>“I’d rather be cautious than go in unprepared. After all, we can’t ignore the possibility those tunnels may not be deserted.” Rivera starts to follow Asheworth back to camp while Halloran thinks over what she said before following them.</p> <p>After Asheworth informs the rest of the on-site personnel, as well as command about the EVE readings in the tunnel and the confirmation of Fae origination, they gather the team members who will be exploring the tunnel. The team will be led by Ashworth and Rivera, with Halloran following behind to assist with archeological investigations.</p> <p>“Okay remember, we need to keep our eyes peeled and stay cautious at all times. If there are any hostile entities down there, we don’t want to risk them surprising us.” Ashworth informs the exploration team as they all stand in front of the cavern entrance. “I also want you to stay right next to us Chris, don’t want to risk having you disappear on us.”</p> <p>“When have I ever when exploring ruins?” said Chris</p> <p>“You never know which ruins might be your last.” Rivera retorts to Halloran’s uneasiness.</p> <p>“That’s a fair point, I’ll stay close.” Halloran responds after swallowing the lump in his throat.</p> <p>“Alright. Now if there’s no more questions, lets get moving.”</p> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span>20th of March</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>Unknown Ruins: Dingle Peninsula, Co. Kerry, Ireland</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>Several minutes after traversing through the tunnels, the team found themselves walking along crumbling marble walls and worn out alabaster floors. Asheworth stops and shines his flashlight on a large rusty plaque engraved with ancient writing.</p> <p>“Yep, this is Fae alright. This is the same royal seal we’ve been finding in ruins connected to the Fae Empire.”</p> <p>“If that seal is on this plaque, that means this was an important location to the royal powers, whether it be Mab or her sister.” Rivera stated as she approached the plaque. She leaned in and carefully brushed away a layer of dust to better view the writing. “Chris, can you decipher this? Vemhoff informed me that you’ve been learning ancient anomalous languages as part of your studies.”</p> <p>“I’ve helped Vemhoff on occasion with translations, so this shouldn’t be a problem.” Halloran cracks his fingers as he steps in front of the plaque and points his light towards it. “Well…from what I can decipher here, this place was used by the royal powers as a repository.”</p> <p>“A repository? How so?” asked Asheworth.</p> <p>“If I were to guess, this place was used by either of the two queens to store objects of great value, such as ancient treasure, artifacts. and documents.”</p> <p>The idea of a structure filled with artifacts and treasures of the Fae Empire really intrigued both Asheworth and Rivera. Any such items could prove very useful in learning more about the mysteries of the empire and the ancient past.</p> <p>“Could it be possible that they also stored objects that the empire hoarded or stole from other races during their rule?” Rivera asks Halloran as she shines her light deeper down the halls.</p> <p>“Well, if the Fae thought they were important or valuable enough then it’s possible. Let’s just hope nothing down there deteriorated beyond restora-huh? Hold the phone.”</p> <p>“What is it?” Rivera asks.</p> <p>“I think there’s something else written here.” Halloran points his light toward a spot near the bottom right corner of the plaque that is still coated in dust. He carefully brushes the dust away revealing a message that had been chiseled onto the plaque. “It looks like someone carved a message on here.”</p> <p>“What does it say?” Asheworth asked as he and Rivera moved in closer to see the message.</p> <p>“Let’s see…” Halloran proceeded to drag his finger under the letters as he transcribed the writing. “I leave this message on the chance that I’ve succeeded in bringing retribution upon my sibling for her crimes, but have unfortunately perished myself. This repository was used to guard some of our most sacred relics and our most powerful tools of subjugation and destruction. Fearing the chance that I have been slain along with my sister, I have placed many art pieces and historical scrolls for those who come after us to ensure we and our history are not forgotten, as well as to ensure our more peacemaking wonders are not lost. But more importantly, I leave these to ensure that the next great civilizations after to come do not repeat the mistakes and crimes we have committed as the result of my sibling’s wicked heart. If any have stumbled upon this vault and finds this message, please…do not let darkness shackle this world and Gaia’s children once again.” Halloran is silent for several seconds as he contemplates what he just deciphered. “…that’s quite a depressing message.”</p> <p>“Yeah… and I’m pretty sure I have a good idea who wrote it.” Asheworth says as he then looks over to Rivera, the look on her face telling him that she had the exact same idea. “Well then, now that we’re aware of what it is that we’re dealing with, we should keep on moving.”</p> <p>“Hold on, first things first.” Halloran then pulls out a digital camera from his pack and snaps an image of the plaque. “Just taking images for documentation and archiving, photographic evidence is one of the most important pieces of documentation in my opinion.”</p> <p>“Smart thinking Chris.” Asheworth says before he turns back to the rest of the team patiently waiting. “All right, let’s keep moving, but stay cautious and pay attention. If this place contains treasure, then there’s the possibility of booby traps up ahead, that is if whoever left that message didn’t disable them first.”</p> <p>The team continued their trek through the abandoned hallways of the repository. Along the way Halloran took numerous pictures of the surrounding structures, along with examining any objects of interest. They came across a number of degraded marble podiums, some of them with busts of two separate crowned Fae females. The conditions of both the podiums and busts ranged from barely intact to completely shattered. Halloran stopped to look at the shattered pieces with a look of consideration before he suddenly crouched down and started collecting the broken marble pieces. Rivera and Asheworth took notice of this and looked confused at Halloran’s actions.</p> <p>“What are you doing Chris? I know we said to collect artifacts, but I don’t think those broken pieces will be of any value.”</p> <p>“I’m not collecting them for study, they are for testing.”</p> <p>“Testing, testing what?” asked Rivera.</p> <p>“Well, if there are possibly booby traps in this place that are still operational, then we need some way to test this without wasting lives or valuable resources.” Halloran follows this by tossing a hand sized chunk of marble into the air before catching it. “That’s what these will be for.”</p> <p>Asheworth thought about Halloran’s plan. It would be better to not risk his or the team’s lives just to check for traps, so using something useless like a throwing stone would be a preferable substitute.</p> <p>“Good thinking Chris. Everybody, grab some stones! We might need them for trap checking.”</p> <p>Everyone proceeded to stuff their pockets and packs with pieces of marble chunks, afterwards they continued forward.</p> <p>More than half an hour passed as they travel downward. Every few steps they would stop and toss a handful of stones forward to test for a trap. Luckily the team had not encountered any form of traps yet, so they continued on their way, while Halloran documented their progress through photos.</p> <p>During the walk, Asheworth pulled out his EESPR tablet and begin taking readings. A high amount of Fae EVE was definitely being picked up as they went further down, signifying that they were getting closer to the end of the structure.</p> <p>Suddenly, they heard the sound of a loud metal clanging in the distance. Everyone was tense as the MTF raised their weapons cautiously.</p> <p>“What was that?!”</p> <p>“Shh! Keep it down.”</p> <p>Asheworth looked toward the squad leader and gestured for him to come forward. Following the order, the MTF then moved up ahead to investigate. They stopped by the next turn as the leader counted down before they moved forward and pointed their guns down the hall. After several seconds they lowered their weapons.</p> <p>“All clear! It seems an armor set on display just stared falling apart and its weapon toppled over.”</p> <p>“Well that’s a relief” Halloran sayid as he wiped the sweat that was forming on his head.</p> <p>“We should still stay on our toes just in case.” Rivera replied as they and the others caughtt up with the MTF and continued forward.</p> <p>Halloran stopped to examine the crumbling armor. It resembled that of a medieval knight’s armor, but it had a more regal design, and was made of a glittering silver metal with a slight violet hue. It was beautifully embellished and engraved with floral patterns and inlays filled with gold. Even in such a deteriorated state, it was a work of art.</p> <p>“Such craftsmanship! Is this what the royal guards of the empire wore? You don’t come across such fine armor sets as this very often in expeditions.” Halloran wasted no time taking several pictures before catching up with the others. As he did, he noticed many other sets of armor on display, all in varying states of decay and wielding many forms of weapons such as spears and glaives.</p> <p>Eventually, their walk reached its end as they came across a set of ornamental double doors, each depicting carvings of two crowned Fae females. Asheworth pointed his light upwards to reveal a groove opening in front of the doors and saw what resembled a portcullis.</p> <p>“This is it, the vault doors.”</p> <p>“Looks like the person who left that note also left the vault open for us, how generous of them.”</p> <p>“Kind of a risky decision don’t you think? Didn’t they worry their own people might try to steal its contents?</p> <p>“I guess not.”</p> <p>“Well then, how about we see what’s inside shall we?” Harrison said as he rubbed his hands together before proceeding to push open the double doors.</p> <p>“Chris wait!“ Asheworth called out in warning, but was too late as the double doors had already been opened.</p> <p>The other side revealed a massive open chamber with a domed ceiling. A silver chandelier covered in large orange crystals was hanging in the center of the area. To their surprise, the chandelier crystals were emitting a warm light that was enough to illuminate the chamber, revealing all the contents within. The room was filled to the brim with jewels of all shapes and colors, coins and heirlooms made of many forms of precious metals, many art pieces ranging from statues and paintings, objects that resembled weapons or some form of magic constructs, as well as numerous scrolls and tomes.</p> <p>“It’s like being in an Indiana Jones movie!” one of the MTF said as they all looked upon the room in surprise.</p> <p>“Look at all this gold and these relics! There’s enough in here to fill a museum, and we could fill an entire library with all these documents!” Rivera said to Asheworth, amazed at the treasure they saw before them.</p> <p>“I know, this is indeed a huge find.” Asheworth then moves up to Halloran as he puts his hand on his shoulder and looks at Halloran with a smile. “Congratulations Chris, I think you may have just earned yourself a promotion from the higher ups.”</p> <p>“… You know what, I take back what I said earlier. I’m grateful that I stumbled upon this place on my vacation!” Chris said as he couldn’t help but grin like an excited child before he rushed into the chamber to examine the contents.</p> <p>“All right then, let’s get to work! Half of the MTF will head back topside to inform command of what we’ve discovered and get containment units down here to gather the contents of this chamber. The rest of us will get to work cataloging and examining the contents.” Asheworth informed.</p> <p>For the next hour, they all began charting down and examining the chamber’s contents. The contents were remarkably preserved over time, most likely through thaumaturgical means. Asheworth was busy scanning all the objects with the EESPR, discovering that all the constructs and many of the weapons emitted lots of EVE radiation. Rivera examined the figurines. Many were of Fae individuals who she theorized were likely very important cultural or historical figures to the Fae Empire. Some of the paintings depicted landscapes, but others portrayed what might’ve been major historical events. Halloran occupied himself with examining and translating the scrolls and tomes, all of which either described historical events or myths and legends told during the empire’s golden age. All the while the rest of the team examined the other treasures and prepped them to be transported.</p> <p>“Wow, who would’ve thought one of Mab’s children would go on to be one of the empire’s most tenacious and tactical commanders? Huh, so that’s what seelie and unseelie means in Fae culture. Wait. Mab and…Wha-why can’t I read this one word? Is this supposed to be a name or-Whaa!” Halloran was so deep into reading the tome he was holding, that he did not notice the tipped over gold candle holder until it was too late. He tripped over it causing him to fall to the ground and led to a waterfall of gems and coins to shower onto his head.</p> <p>“Ow! Oh, by Saint Andrews’ balls that hurt! I hope nobody saw that because I don’t want this making me look like a-hello?” Halloran said as he dug himself out of the pile of loot that he was unintentionally buried under, his self-complaints were interrupted when his eyes caught sight of something interesting. A very beautiful oil painting, one that was apparently buried under the treasure he’d accidentally knocked over. The painting was held within a very regal floral themed armor frame, made from the same material that the armor in the halls were made of. But the contents of the painting were what caught his attention the most. The painting depicted a city of white buildings under a moon-lit, star-filled sky. The center of the painting held a massive gold and marble palace, topped by a large spire and surrounded by towers. It was possibly one of the most beautiful paintings he’s ever seen in his life.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>“Well, aren't you quite a sight to behold! What are you doing under all these treasures?” Halloran proceeded to pick up the painting and examine it much closer. “Never seen a place like this depicted in works in any of the other ruins we’ve found. Even the architecture seems completely different. Then again, if this painting is in here then this place must be related to the Fae, and is very important.” Halloran thinks it over and decides to bring it to Rivera to hear her input.</p> <p>“Hey Doctor Rivera, you got a minute?”</p> <p>“Yeah, what is it?”</p> <p>“I found this painting and I can’t figure out the location it’s depicting. Do you recognize it?” He presents it to Rivera who begins to examine the painting. As she does, she can’t help but admire the professionalism and intricacy of its craftsmanship.</p> <p>“Huh, where did you find this?”</p> <p>“It was buried under a huge coin pile. I assumed since it was stored in here, the painting must be important, or the city it’s depicting is. So does it ring any bells?”</p> <p>“No, doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen. This is something new, but I agree that it’s probably important. Hey Daniel, Come here!”</p> <p>Hearing Rivera, Asheworth immediately headed over to Rivera and Halloran. “What’s going on?”</p> <p>“Chris found this painting; he believes the city it is depicting might be of great importance. Have you ever seen anything similar”? Rivera asked.</p> <p>Asheworth began to examine the painting, seeming just as curious and intrigued as her and Halloran.</p> <p>“Hmm, it doesn’t seem familiar to anything I’ve come across before, however the frame is obviously made from irrilite. The buildings shown are clearly of Fae architecture, but the style is different.”</p> <p>“Maybe it’s the capitol of the empire?” asked Halloran.</p> <p>“Arlende? Unlikely. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-enlightened-children">Tomes</a> and paintings the Droganians have shared with us bare little resemblance to our find.” Rivera replied.</p> <p>What about those two Fae kingdoms that were destroyed decades ago? Asked Halloran</p> <p>“Hy-Brasil and Avalon? Impossible. We’ve seen photos of Hy-Brasil before it was destroyed. The architecture doesn’t match, and it also can’t possibly be Avalon because from the data and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/finding-avalon">documents</a> we’ve gathered, Avalon had no large structures and was more akin to a village. Besides, those kingdoms didn’t exist until after the Fourth Occult War.” Rivera replied back.</p> <p>“What about Olivié? Did she mention anything like this when discussing ancient Fae history?” Asheworth asked Rivera as he put down the painting.</p> <p>“She might have, I can’t seem to recall. But it would be a good idea to speak with her and see if she’s found something that matches.”</p> <p>“I’ll also send a message to O5 Command and see if they have anything that matches, maybe The Foundation already came across it but were, unaware of its connection to the Fae. Chris, I’d take a photo of the painting.”</p> <p>“Already on it.” Chris said as he took out his camera and took several images of the painting. “I’ll print out a couple copies so you guys can present them to whoever you plan to get answers from.”</p> <p>“All right. Let’s just finish up here until the containment team arrives, and then we can head back and begin our investigation.”</p> <p>With the plan thought out, the three of them continued archiving all the contents of the chamber. Two hours later the containment team arrived and assists in gathering all artifacts.</p> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc3"><span>20th of March</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="/esterberg-city-wikipedia">Esterberg's Market District</a>: Częstochowa, Silesian Voivodeship, Poland</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>As head archivist, it was just another day of reviewing old documents and ancient records for Olivié Gwyneth. She’d just finished explaining another old tome for a client.</p> <p>With a sigh of relief, Gwyneth placed her client notes in an envelope and tossed it into her “Out” box.</p> <p>“Finally, that should cover the last request for the day.” Satisfied with another job done for the Sidhe Lounge, Gwyneth stood up from her desk, stretched her arms up, and sighed with relief. She headed over to the kitchen to brew a cup of hot tea.</p> <p>’’I’m drowning in archive requests. Maybe I should consider getting an assistant.” She said while waiting for her kettle to boil.</p> <p>Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knocking at her her front door.</p> <p>“Huh, perfect timing.”</p> <p>With a smile, Gwyneth headed straight to the front door. Waiting on the other side was Jessie Rivera carrying a small envelope.</p> <p>“Hi Olivié, I guess you got my message?”</p> <p>“Yeah. Your timing is perfect, I just finished up and I’m making some tea.”</p> <p>“Thanks, that would be great. I can’t stay long; I have a lot of documenting I have to do back at 120.” Rivera said as she entered and followed Gwyneth to her personal library.</p> <p>“Sure, I understand. So, what did you want to talk to me about? You said you needed my help with something. I’m guessing it involves the Empire.” Gwyneth asked as she settled into one of her comfy reading chairs.</p> <p>“Yes. You remember Chris, that new junior archeologist I told you about? Earlier today while he was in Ireland during time off, he discovered an entrance to an underground tunnel. Daniel and I took a team down there to investigate and discovered an ancient structure from the Fae Empire.”</p> <p>“Oh, please tell me you found something big!” Gwyneth exclaimed.</p> <p>“We did. There was an Irrilite plaque with the royal seal not far from the tunnel entrance that Chris was able to translate. The ruins were a repository used by Mab and The Inventor, one that contained-”</p> <p>“A repository?! Jessie, be honest with me. Tell me that it wasn’t empty!” Gwyneth rose quickly got up from her chair and interrupted Rivera.</p> <p>“Let me finish. Anyway, that plaque I mentioned before, there was an inscribed message on it… a message that we have no reason to doubt was left by The Inventor. Apparently before she went to face against Mab, she came to this repository and stored many artifacts and documents of great importance to the empire, as well as intentionally leaving the repository opened and unprotected in the hopes of future civilizations discovering it and doing great good with it.”</p> <p>With eyes gone wide, Gwyneth just stood there frozen in place staring at Rivera as she took in all the information that she learned.</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p><em>Squeal!</em></p> <p>Until she broke this behavior by loudly squealing with glee and excitement. She then grabbed Rivera by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.</p> <p>“Jessie please! As one friend to another, you have <em>got</em> to get me into that repository! Just imagine all the untold historical text and valuable artifacts that are just waiting to be viewed!”</p> <p>Rivera gently pushes Gwyneth back into her chair.</p> <p>“Geez Olivié, relax! I think you might need to lay off the tea a little bit, you normally don’t react so hyper.” Rivera says as she sits back into her own chair.</p> <p>“Don’t be silly, there’s barely any sugar in the tea that I drink. Oh, that reminds me, just a second.” Gwyneth then gets up from her seat and heads back down the stairs. She comes back up a minute later with two fresh mugs of tea, giving one to Rivera.</p> <p>“Thanks. As for the repository, unfortunately we already had all the contents transported to Site-120. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll share everything we uncover. I’ll contact you if we ever need assistance.” Rivera then blew on her tea before taking a sip and placing it on the coffee table in front of them. “The contents are why I’m here actually. Well, one of them to be more specific.”</p> <p>Rivera then placed an envelope onto the table and slid it towards Gwyneth.</p> <p>“It’s this painting that Chris found. It seems to be of some sort of city, one likely of Fae origin given it was stored in there. However, we can’t seem to figure out the location it’s depicting. I was hoping maybe you have some idea, maybe you came across something similar.”</p> <p>“Well then, let me take a look.” Gwyneth picked up the envelope and slid out the photos into her hands. As she views the photos, her face slowly morphed from professional curiosity, to subtle familiarity and then to baffling shock.</p> <p>“By word… Is this? It-it can’t be… could it? It really exists?!”</p> <p>“What does exist? What is it?” Rivera asked as she can tell that Gwyneth is in disbelief.</p> <p>Gwyneth then quickly put the photos down before she rushed over toward her bookshelf and climbed the ladder to the higher shelves. After some searching, she found the tome she was looking for. She returned with it and placed the tome down on the table. Rivera caught a glimpse at the title — <em>The Spire Star: The Six Grand Citadels of the Fae Empire, By Trygve Dirmarren</em>.</p> <p>“Jessie… You might have just found the evidence needed to solve one of the oldest Fae mysteries and myths in all of history!” Gwyneth opened the tome and started to browse through the pages until stopping at one page with an illustration of a map depicting six cities. Five of them were placed on the point of a five-pointed star while the sixth was in the middle. Each city was also accompanied by text that appeared to be in Anglo-Saxon runes.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>“Now, I’m sure you are familiar with the kingdom of Arlende right?” Gwyneth asked Rivera as she pulled out her reading glasses.</p> <p>“Of course. It was the capital of the Fae Empire where the royal palace of Mab and The Inventor was located, it was also the kingdom of the Star Gazers during the Age of Tranquility prior to the empire.”</p> <p>“Yes, but did you know it wasn’t the only major city of the Fae Empire?” Gwyneth then turned her attention to the map, individually pointing at the six cities. “While there were many smaller settlements the empire was composed of, there were six major city-states that were the empire’s center of power. They referred to these cities as the Spire Star. They were considered the most powerful, prosperous, and most beautiful cities in the entire empire, nothing could compare to how majestic they were. Not only that, but each city was inhabited by a specific sub-species of Fae people. Of course, only the upper class Fae were able to enjoy many of the benefits each city had to offer, though of course Fae of all kinds were free to visit and settle down in either.”</p> <p>She pointed to the city in the middle of the star.</p> <p>“First there was Arlende, the Velvet Spire, which was the heart and control of the Fae. The twin queens Mab and the Inventor ruled over all. It was the wealthiest and largest city. It was inhabited by the common Fae, <em>Homo Sapiens Sidhe</em>, but the population mainly consisted of aristocratic Fae. But you already knew all this of course.”</p> <p>Gwyneth then pointed to the upper right city.</p> <p>“Next was Brasilveen, the Amber Spire, considered the mind of the Spire Star. as it was a hub for learning and studying magic. This city was dominated by the Elves, scientifically named <em>Homo Sapiens Sidhe Tumuli</em>, or as you would know them as the Tuatha dé Danann. Many believe Hy-Brasil was built over the ruins of Brasilveen, due to the similarity in their names and the history of the inhabitants of both.”</p> <p>Gwyneth then pointed to the lower right city.</p> <p>“Then there was the Sapphire Spire. The name of this city has been lost to time, but the author of this tome has dubbed it <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/powrot-do-niflheimu">Niflheim</a>. Located on a cliff along the shore, it was known as the Sea Hub and provided entertainment and relaxation, and even had a colosseum built for tournaments. Mab herself visited the city often, as it was governed by one of her own daughters. The dominant inhabitants were the Undine or Undying, scientifically named <em>Homo Sapiens Sidhe Naiad</em>. Sadly, it had one of the most destructive ends when it sank into the sea. There is some speculation that it may not have been completely destroyed, as witness accounts described seeing a bubble made of light forming around the city before the cliff collapsed into the water.”</p> <p>Gwyneth shifted her focus to the lower left city.</p> <p>“Fernafaun, the Emerald Spire, was nicknamed Gaia’s Meadow and the inhabitants embraced nature. They built their structures from natural materials such as towers made from hollowed out trees or living in high treehouses. They bonded with the creatures of the wild, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2952">enchanted them</a>, and taught them magic. The entire city was filled with flora and fauna. Its people were known as Dryads and Sprites, both under the scientific name <em>Sidhe Norn Napaea</em>, with the Dryads embracing flora and the Sprites embracing fauna. As they were so linked with nature, their city survived the empire’s fall in a sense. The city fused with the very essence of nature itself.”</p> <p>Gwyneth then turned to the upper left city.</p> <p>“In the west was Neonachlar, the Opal Spire. Dubbed the Star Valley, it was known to have the most beautiful view of the night sky, resembling a black ocean filled with diamonds. Inhabited by the Pùca or pixies, scientifically dubbed <em>Homo Sapiens Sidhe Stellaris</em>. Pixies resembled Sidhe Fae, except they had pale green skin, six small eyes, and wings like a dragonfly. They were quite short and their hair was multicolored and vibrant. They were expert craftsmen who lived in crystal topped treehouses and towers so they could always watch the stars <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fae-myths-and-legends">they worshipped and loved</a>. The fall of this city is up for debate. Some believe they went into hiding before the collapse, others think they found a way to ascend into the heavens to be among the stars, while others think they somehow escaped to <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oneiroi">a realm of stardust and dreams</a>.”</p> <p>Before Gwyneth could continue, Rivera put her hands up signaling her to stop.</p> <p>“Hold on Olivié, I’m going to have to stop you for a moment. Look, don’t get me wrong. I truly find the story you’re telling me fascinating, and it has helped me learn more about the empire and the Fae than I already knew. However, I honestly don’t see what this has to do with the painting we found. Also, you mentioned something earlier about a mystery. What mystery?”</p> <p>Gwyneth sighed in understanding before proceeding to respond to Rivera.</p> <p>“Trust me, I was actually just getting to that. I know this might seem unnecessary detailing these ancient cities and their peoples. But it’s important to understanding all the facts about the empire to help you make Comparisons.”</p> <p>“Comparisons?” Rivera asked, honestly confused on where Gwyneth was going with this.</p> <p>“Yes, comparisons. Because out of all the six cities of the Spire Star, out of all the lands of power and wonder that held up the empire, only one stood above them all. A city so beautiful and powerful that it rivaled the capitol of Arlende itself, one that was so breathtaking that many would consider it a symbol of pure flawlessness and absolute divinity, one many considered an absolute paradise untouched by the wickedness of Mab’s influence. It was, in all sense and purposes, the crowning achievement of the Fae Empire. Out of all the spires, none were more glorious… than the Silver Spire, Fata Morgana.” Gwyneth said in a tone and manner that was both filled with obvious pride, but also pity and grief, as if she was speaking of a cherished loved one who had long since passed away.</p> <p>“Fata Morgana? Is that-“ Rivera began to say before being interrupted by Gwyneth as she instantly responded.</p> <p>“Yes, that is what the painting is depicting. It was a utopian citadel that was built on the ocean’s surface, a few miles off the ocean shores. They say that when the sun would set, Fata Morgana would overlap it just as the moon would during an eclipse, and the city would shine and sparkle brightly like a perfect diamond, absolutely flawless. It was a city of wonder, peace, and creativity. Many of the finest art pieces and some of the most soothing hymns were created within its walls. Even the architecture of Fata Morgana were works of art, tall smooth towers from pure silver and magnificent spires from glistening crystal, all adorned with etchings with detailing of the finest gold and alabaster. Fountains and pools of pure crystal blue water were spread throughout the city, with hundreds of bridges and walkways constructed so one could view them from near and far, as they sparkled with starlight during the night hours. But Fata Morgana cherished nature just as much as it did its architectural beauty. Their parks glistening with the greenest dew coated grass and lush healthy trees that had bark as gray as marble and leaves that were a silvery green. On windy days, they would produce beautiful melodies like that of a wind chime. But no sight within Fata Morgana was more breathtaking and more glorious than the heart of the city, a massive, towering palace that could be seen even miles outside the city’s walls. They called it the Titania Spire.”</p> <p>“Wait, Titania? Like from <em>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</em>? Was that the name of the ruler? If I’m honest, I always assumed that Titania was…” Rivera asked as she interrupted Gwyneth for the second time.</p> <p>“What? That Titania was possibly the Inventor’s name?” She then laughed for a moment. “No of course not, don’t be silly. That’s just a common misconception that Shakespeare made when he did his own research on the Fae Empire and wrote that play, not knowing that the Inventor lost her name and assumed that it was Titania. However, there was a figure named Titania that existed in the past before the empire, but she wasn’t a queen. She was described as a very magically gifted and benevolent motherly figure in legend. She was very beloved by all and helped perform many miracles for her people. Though she wasn’t a queen, some theorized she may have possibly been an ancestor to Mab and the Inventor, but that’s just speculation. Fata Morgana supposedly named the palace after her, because much like she was, the people of Fata Morgana were capable of many incredible things.”</p> <p>“And who were the people of Fata Morgana? I assume much like the other five cities; the inhabitants were a sub-breed of Fae.” Rivera asked, as she began to start writing down this information for future investigations and research.</p> <p>“<em>Sidhe Leanan Hesperides</em>, better known as… The Changelings or Otherkin. Much like how their home was seen as the most glorious city of the empire, they were seen as the most beautiful of all Fae peoples. They looked almost practically identical to common Sidhe Fae, but their eyes were colorful instead of black and sparkled like gemstones. Their skin was also much healthier looking in color and had a slight blue glint to it, almost as if it were made of pure porcelain. Their hair could appear in any color imaginable, and always flowed like silk. But it was their wings that was their most beautiful trait. Large and vibrant, translucent and with a texture that made one think of the Northern lights. But above all, they were strong and flowed with mana. The minute you set foot within the walls of Fata Morgana, you would witness its citizens soaring in the air with grace and glamor, as they relished the feeling of the wind flowing through their hair and wings.” Gwyneth stops to look behind her at her own wings before continuing. “While us common Fae have lost the ability of flight long ago, if the changelings were still around, they might still have the ability.”</p> <p>“Still around huh? I’m guessing the end of Fata Morgana was even more devastating than the others during the fall, wasn’t it?” Rivera asked as she could tell that something bad happened to this city and its people. She began to feel great sympathy and would have loved to have met such incredible individuals for herself.</p> <p>“… I don’t know.” Gwyneth responded plainly.</p> <p>“…What? What do you mean you don’t know?” Rivera asked in honest confusion and surprise.</p> <p>“I mean, I don’t know! Hell, nobody knows what happened to it. No one knows if it survived the fall or if it was destroyed, it just… disappeared.”</p> <p>“Disappeared?” Rivera questioned.</p> <p>“Yes. While it’s not entirely clear what occurred, we have found tomes that give us clues to what may have occurred, although it’s mostly speculation that these tomes are little more than fairy tales, so it’s therefore up for debate whether the accounts are true or not. According to legends, on the morning of the day the Inventor clashed with Mab, leading to the empire’s downfall, a strange humming chime of sound rose far off the shore’s horizon where Fata Morgana stood. Very soon after, a mysterious glittering pink mist appeared and proceeded to engulf the city, completely hiding it within its shroud. When the mist finally dissipated, and the humming fell silent… Fata Morgana was gone. Vanished without a trace. One minute it was there, and the next…” She raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. “…nothing.”</p> <p>For minutes the room was silent. Rivera was gathering all the details in her head as she tried to form the big picture of everything that Gwyneth had just revealed to her. However, there were two questions in her mind that had yet to be answered.</p> <p>“I see now why you aren’t sure about the cities’ fate, but there are two things I’d like to know. If this city was so cherished and so influential to the Fae and the empire, then how come we at the Foundation haven’t found anything that hinted it ever existed? Also, there’s still this great mystery you claimed we might have solved.”</p> <p>Gwyneth didn’t speak for a moment, then she let out a deep breath, regained her composure, and put on her professional persona.</p> <p>“Well, there isn’t an exact answer to the first question. But I have a theory that might explain why no evidence of its existence has been found. To put it simply… my theory is that Mab is the reason.”</p> <p>“I see. While that wouldn’t be all that surprising, what makes you think it was because of her?” Rivera asked, now interested in hearing more about Gwyneth’s theory.</p> <p>“Well, I already said it earlier. While the other five cities still followed a feudalistic dictatorship influenced by Mab, and favored the aristocrats far above the poor and the Human and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1000">Yeren</a> slaves, Fata Morgana did not. Mab had no control over the city, because they followed the morals and ways of the Inventor. She protected the city from her sister and her cruelty towards the poor. They also had no traces of slavery. It was said that the Inventor and the ruler of Fata Morgana were incredibly close friends, and legend says the Inventor entrusted them to protect something she highly valued. Mab hated Fata Morgana and was jealous of the city. Because of the Inventor’s protection, as well as the respect of the rest of the empire, Mab could not destroy the city. Doing so would have likely escalated in a revolt against her, for even the aristocrats and Mabbites valued Fata Morgana.”</p> <p>“So, what did she do if she couldn’t even touch the city?”</p> <p>“Well, in one of those same tomes that described its disappearance, it was mentioned that it was incredibly foolish to bring a memento of Fata Morgana outside of its walls, for the mad twin would bring down her wrath upon them if caught in the act. So, I believe that Mab chose to separate or isolate Fata Morgana from the rest of the empire to the point that not only did she destroy the marble bridge leading to its gates, and likely imprisoning the Changelings within their own homes, but she would also severely punish anyone with either imprisonment or death just for bringing anything out of its walls. Anything that was already outside of the city before Fata Morgana’s exile was either forcibly returned or destroyed. So, anything that was of Fata Morgana origin disappeared along with the city. That’s where the mystery comes in!” Gwyneth stated with a sense of encouragement.</p> <p>“And the mystery is…?” Rivera cut herself off, suggesting that Gwyneth finish the sentence.”</p> <p>“Whether Fata Morgana ever even existed!” Gwyneth exclaimed. “We know that the other five existed because not only do we have evidence such as artifacts and ruins, but the other Fae races do exist as they are still around to this day, even though they’re not as common as Sidhe Fae. A number of the Fae citizens here in Esterberg are one of the other races, like Susan Ilifir who’s a Dryad that owns a flower shop, or Bishop Adasatra who’s a Pixie glassblower. Fata Morgana on the other hand… There’s nothing. No ruins, no relics, not even the Changelings! Nothing has ever been found to confirm that Fata Morgana was real, because of that most today believe it to be nothing more than an old legend, a mere myth.” Gwyneth said before letting out a sad sigh. “<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-faerie-tale-of-twin-queens">I think I even mentioned it once in a story I did a lecture on.</a>”</p> <p>“But do you believe it existed?” Rivera asked, sensing Gwyneth’s ambiguity about Fata Morgana.</p> <p>“Well, I always had hope that it was real, or at least something like it. But, over time I started to have my doubts and was considering maybe it was just an old made up story” Then she looked back up to Rivera as her expression changed from that of gloominess to satisfaction. “…But that has all changed thanks to you and the Foundation!”</p> <p>She then grabbed the painting photos and brought them towards Rivera.</p> <p>“Because you found this! This painting here, one that you claimed was found within the royal treasure repository, is proof that Fata Morgana indeed existed! The Silver Spire was real, and the Changelings were a real people!” Gwyneth said to Rivera feeling satisfied and delighted to know that an old mystery was just solved, before she came to a realization and sat back in the chair. “Of course, that only leaves one mystery unsolved.”</p> <p>Rivera could instantly tell what Gwyneth was thinking, as she too had the same question on her mind.</p> <p>“…Where did they go?”</p> <p><em>Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.</em></p> <p>They were interrupted from their thoughts by a buzzing sound. Judging from the vibration that Rivera felt within her pocket, it was her own phone. Realizing this, she stood up from her chair while pulling the device from her pocket.</p> <p>“Sorry, would you give me a minute? This might be important?” Rivera asked Gwyneth as she moved away to speak privately.</p> <p>“No, go ahead, I don’t mind. Work is important after all.”</p> <p>Satisfied with Gwyneth’s response, Rivera immediately answered.</p> <p>“Hello?”</p> <p>“Jessie, it’s Chris. Have you gotten any information regarding the painting yet?”</p> <p>“Yeah, I definitely got a lot of information regarding the location depicted in the painting, among other things. It’s called Fata Morgana, an ancient lost state of the Fae Empire. Why?”</p> <p>“Because we might already have a lead on this place!”</p> <p>“What? What do you mean and how?”</p> <p>“Two reasons. First is that we didn’t look at the painting hard enough. While being examined, the research team found an envelope hidden on the back under the frame. It had a message in ancient Fae that I feel you should know about.” Halloran said excitedly through the phone.</p> <p>“Well… What did it say?!”</p> <p>“It said <em>If great time has passed by the time this note be read, heed these words so that my people can reunite with its missing thread. Let the melody flow before the fading sun and the sparkling shore, and the world will see the white towers shine once more</em>. But there’s more, on the back of the note is a bunch of musical notes for a song. I think you can already guess where this is going?”</p> <p>Rivera eyes widened in shock as she immediately put two and two together. The note was telling them how they could bring back Fata Morgana.</p> <p>“Did you already inform Daniel about this?” Rivera asked as she paced back and forth, immediately understanding the seriousness of what was occurring.</p> <p>“Oh I just talked to him before calling you, in fact that’s where the second reason comes in. You won’t believe this, but it turns out… the Foundation already found this Fata Morgana!”</p> <p>Rivera stopped pacing as she took a few seconds to register what Halloran just stated to her.</p> <p>“…What?!”</p> <p>“I’m not making this shit up, they did! <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3903">SCP-3903</a>, some sort of extradimensional city that at times partially manifests in baseline reality some distance off a beach shore, but only under certain circumstances. They discovered it a few years ago, and have been keeping track of it ever since. However, while they did have their suspicions, the O5 didn’t know it was truly of Fae origin because we could never get inside the city… At least no one from the Foundation that is.”</p> <p>Halloran’s last words caught Rivera’s curiosity as it sounded suspicious yet important.</p> <p>“What do you mean no one from the Foundation?”</p> <p>“Well, apparently the city will appear before the sun disappears off the horizon to specific people that were dubbed 3903-A. These are humans who claim to believe they may not be spiritually human, saying that they believe themselves to have been some form of Faerie in another life, dubbing themselves Otherkins.”</p> <p>“…Otherkins?” Rivera looked towards Gwyneth with a look of complete shock as she recognized that term from their earlier conversation.</p> <p>“Look, once Asheworth sent them the picture of the painting, they immediately noticed the similarities and demanded we get more information. He already informed them about the note we found. Once we get the data from you, they’ll possibility authorize an attempt for Site-120 to try and make contact with the city first thing tomorrow. But I honestly have my doubts it will work. I mean they won’t open the doors for humans unless they’re an 3903-A instance, so how do we convince them to let us in?”</p> <p>Rivera could understand where Chris was going with this. From what the Foundation could tell and from what she was able to gather so far, it appeared that the city won’t just allow ordinary humans to enter its walls. Maybe they don’t believe we can be trusted, or they have specific rules when it comes to gaining entry. Suddenly Rivera had an idea. Maybe if they brought a Fae with them, it would show them they could trust the Foundation, maybe they’d allow entry.</p> <p>Luckily Rivera already knew someone who knew she and Site-120 were trustworthy, and she was in the same room as her.</p> <p>“Would you hold for a second?” She then put Halloran on hold as she then turned back and walked over to Gwyneth. “Olivié, I’m going to need your help. I think we already found your lost city, and I need you to be a voice of reason and persuade them to let us in. I can’t think of anyone else who I can count on for this. Can I count on you?”</p> <p>Gwyneth once again stood frozen in place staring at Rivera, as she contemplated what she had just heard.</p> <p>…Then she immediately bolted out of her chair and headed back downstairs.</p> <p>“I’LL GET MY EXPEDITION GEAR!”</p> <p>Rivera couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s sudden excitement and enthusiasm. Knowing that Gwyneth was all in on the idea, she turned back to the phone and continued speaking to Halloran.</p> <p>“Inform the O5 that we’re bringing along Olivié Gwyneth to act as an ambassador of Esterberg, and as a means of gaining trust with the inhabitants of Fata Morgana.”</p> <p>“Ok, I’ll tell them you’re bringing her along. But I don’t think that’ll be enough. Sure, she’s a Fae just like them, but I don’t think just one Fae friend of yours is going to be enough to convince them to let us in their doors. We need someone much more powerful who can persuade them to reason, and it would have to be someone they are familiar with. However, if this city is as old as I think it is, then it would have to be someone or something that has been around during, or even before, the Fae Empire! Where the hell could we possibly find such an entity?!”</p> <p>Rivera thought it over and admitted Chris had a good point, it’s going to take a lot more than just one Fae to convince them to let them in their home. It would have to be someone who not only knows Site-120 and the Foundation as a whole can be trusted, but someone who knows more about the Fae and ancient history than anyone else, someone they would be familiar with and respected.</p> <p>Then it clicked as Rivera smiled, for she remembered they already knew such an individual, who also had experience with negotiations and all kinds of thaumaturgy.</p> <p>“I think I know who would fit that role.”</p> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc4"><span>21st of March</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>Brzezno Beach: Gdańsk, Poland</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>Standing on the beautiful, expansive shores of Brzezno Beach, Daniel Asheworth and Chris Halloran were watching the lovely sunset, as they waited for Jessie Rivera and her companions to arrive. Unfortunately, Halloran’s patience and assurance were starting to weaken.</p> <p>“Are you sure this is the right place, and you’re positive there’s no chance of possible witnesses?” Halloran asked Asheworth, as he continuously tapped his foot in the sand.</p> <p>“I’m positive. We chose this beach carefully. It’s large, has a great view, and it’s the closest one to Site-120 and Częstochowa. As for witnesses, the beach is vacant at this time, and we have numerous MTFs on watch duty to ensure no college freshmen try to throw any late-night parties. We also brought some thaumaturgists Pataphysicists to whip up some narrative spells along the coasts to make people oblivious to whatever happens, a little extra precaution.” Daniel replied as he continued to watch and admire the sunset.</p> <p>“Well, that’s good to hear. But I was referring to the fact that Dr. Rivera isn’t here yet. What’s taking her so long? If she doesn’t make it in time, we’ll miss the mark!” Halloran said as he began to tap his foot faster.</p> <p>“She had to pick up our two representatives for this exploration. One of them lives in the Ural Mountains, so it’s understandable it will take her longer to get here.”</p> <p>“Wait, the Ural Mountains? What kind of person would live in th—“ Halloran began to say before he was interrupted by the sound of a helicopter in the distance. They both turned to see a Foundation chopper approaching the shore.</p> <p>“See? Made it just in time.” Asheworth said as the helicopter began descending towards the beach.</p> <p>Once the helicopter landed, Asheworth and Halloran approached it as the sliding doors were being opened. Out came Jessie Rivera and Olivié Gwyneth, the latter had a huge smile on her face, as she was hauling an expedition backpack and carrying an HD video camera.</p> <p>“There you are Jessie, you made it with several minutes to spare. I have to say though, you sure took your time.” Asheworth said to Rivera as she brushed her hair out of her face from the helicopter blades picking up wind.</p> <p>“Yeah, sorry about that. Olivié was really excited for this and did several last minute bag inspections.”</p> <p>“Hey, can you blame me? I’m about to become a witness to the rediscovery of one of the greatest citadels of the Fae Empire! Of course I’m excited!” Gwyneth said, as she started slightly bouncing in place from the adrenaline.</p> <p>“Hey, I’m just as excited too. I was starting to worry that you weren’t going to make it. So, where’s this other guest that you took so long to pick up?” Halloran said to Gwyneth before speaking to Rivera.</p> <p>“I believe that would be me.”</p> <p>The groups attention was brought towards the helicopter as two other individuals began exiting, both of them reptilian in appearance with large leather wings on their backs. One was crimson with long white hair wearing royal looking robes and jewelry, while the other was a dark brownish gray wearing golden knight styled armor and carried what resembled a platinum colored double bladed lance with gold detailing. Unlike Halloran and Gwyneth, Asheworth and Rivera were quite familiar with the two entities.</p> <p>“King Ragna, It’s been a while. How are things going with Arcadia?” Asheworth said as he walked up to greet the Droganian monarch with a handshake.</p> <p>“Asheworth, it is good to see you again. It’s never been better thanks to your Foundation, I sometimes barely recognize it with all it’s modern accommodations and advancements. However, I would like to apologize for the delay. We needed to have a discussion with the rest of the Dragoon’s Circle about allowing me to accompany you on this investigation. They eventually agreed as long as Captain Agron accompanied me as protection.” King Ragna said greeting back with a courteous bow before presenting his armies’ commander.</p> <p>“Apologies from me as well, Asheworth, but we didn’t want to take risks with this Fata Morgana, considering what my league shared with me of what you’ve informed him. If this city really was part of the Fae Empire, I feel it’s better that I accompany him.” Captain Agron said as he stood by his king’s side.</p> <p>“It’s not a problem, we completely understand. However, we still believe you accompanying us would do more good than harm.” Rivera reassured the two Droganians as she moved to stand next to Asheworth.</p> <p>King Ragna responded with a courteous nod before his attention shifted toward Gwyneth and Halloran.</p> <p>“Ah, these must be your two other companions, I am humbled to make your acquaintance. I am the Vajra King Ragna Von Morrowind, head of the Dragoon’s Circle and ruler of the Droganian city of Arcadia.” King Ragna greeted them both with a bow while his hand was on his heart.</p> <p>“Um… Chris Halloran, it’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” Halloran responded awkwardly, not expecting this type of company. While Halloran heard some background about the Droganians, he wasn’t that familiar with them in comparison to the Fae, despite knowing the history between the two races.</p> <p>Gwyneth’s greeting and demeanor however was much more enthusiastic and friendly than Halloran’s.</p> <p>“I’m Olivié Gwyneth, Fae historian and the head archivist of the Sidhe Lounge. It is an honor and pleasure to meet you and your captain your highness! Gwyneth exclaimed as she enthusiastically shook his hand. She suddenly came to her senses and stopped as her face turned red from embarrassment. “I’m… I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be so forward. It’s just that meeting you is so exciting. My grandmother used to tell me stories about your ancestors when I was little.”</p> <p>“No need to apologise, I’m actually quite flattered at your enthusiasm.” King Ragna assured her that it was nothing to worry about.</p> <p>“If I may interrupt, how exactly are you going to help us get into the city? Which, may I remind you we need to hurry and summon quickly while the sun is still up!” Halloran said, as he was getting anxious from wasting time.</p> <p>“Relax Chris, we still have time. But to answer your question, the Droganians’ predecessors, the Sky Keepers, were wise and powerful dragons who helped many sapient races to thrive and build civilizations in the ancient past, including the Fae. So if the Fae of Fata Morgana see that we have two dragons accompanying us, they’ll let us in for sure.” Asheworth informed Chris, who then calmed down. “But you’re right, we should get started.”</p> <p>“Agreed. Do you guys have the notes to perform the summoning?” Rivera asked as Gwyneth started filming in anticipation of the arrival of the city.</p> <p>“Yeah, we made a copy of it to bring along. But that begs the question, how do we play it? It’s a music sheet, and I’m going to guess whistling won’t work.” Chris asked, as he pulled out the folded copy he had in his pocket.</p> <p>“No need to worry, I have it covered.” King Ragna said as he pulled something out of the folds of his robe. A regal jewel encrusted wind instrument that resembled a pan flute. “While I do put my royal responsibilities as a leader first, I do often like to dabble in the art of hymns in my spare time. Now, the note if you please?”</p> <p>Halloran walked over and held up the music sheet for King Ragna, he memorized the notes for a minute before bringing the flute to his lips. He took a quick deep breath, and began playing.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>—<br/> <em>Silver towers, so grand and majestic<br/> Stars so bright and pure<br/> Home to dreams and beauty and grace<br/> One of love and peace<br/> Just like a mother's gentle touch<br/> One can feel the cities warm embrace.</em><br/> —</p> </div> <span style="font-size:75%;"> </span> <p>The group was mesmerized as they watched the king’s flute performance. It actually proved to be quite enjoyable. When his performance concluded, they all turned their attention toward the beach and waited for the effects of the song to occur.</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>…</p> <p>Yet nothing appeared.</p> <p>“…Is something supposed to happen?” King Ragna questioned the others, just as confused at the inactivity.</p> <p>“I-I don’t get it; this should have worked! The note clearly said if we played the music on a beach before the sun fully set, Fata Morgana should appear! So where is it?!” Halloran said, feeling confused and aggravated.</p> <p>“Maybe we missed a step?” Rivera asked, thinking that maybe they overlooked some sort of detail.</p> <p>“No that can’t be it, there was nothing else on that note but the message and the music sheet. We even checked every corner and crevice of the painting and—“ Halloran began to rant before he was suddenly interrupted by Gwyneth, who unlike the others kept her focus on the horizon.</p> <p>“Wait a minute!”</p> <p>“Look, Olivié, I know this seems to be going bad but—“ Rivera tried to assure Gwyneth, feeling that she might be feeling disappointed that nothing happened. However, Gwyneth interrupted her as she glanced around, wide eyed.</p> <p>“No guys seriously, shh! Everyone be quiet!” Gwyneth shouted, as she held her hand up, commanding everyone to listen to her.</p> <p>“What’s wrong?” Asheworth questioned.</p> <p>“Listen… Don’t you hear that?”</p> <p>Everyone stood absolutely silent as they listened to their surroundings. Suddenly they all began to hear something, a very faint sound that was almost unnoticeable, a slight humming noise that seemed to be very slowly growing in volume.</p> <p>But then they all began to feel a faint strange sensation around them. There was a growing pulsation in the air. They felt the air around them begin to vibrate as if reality itself was bending and reforming, like a small pond rippling with sudden small waves.</p> <p>“…I’m not the only one who feels that, right?” Halloran asked, feeling overwhelmed.</p> <p>“I know this feeling… dimensional fluctuation.” King Ragna spoke out, recognizing the feeling of space and reality being manipulated.</p> <p>“I don’t like this.” Captain Agron said as he got into a defensive position, pointing his lance forward and guarding King Ragna.</p> <p>Suddenly, an audible beeping noise began to rise. Everyone wondered where the beeping was emanating from, until Asheworth came to a realization and pulled something from his jacket pocket. His EESPR was the source of the noise. He had it in standby mode and it must’ve detected EVE readings and reactivated. Sure enough, it was picking up high levels of EVE radiation coming from way off the shores.</p> <p>That’s when he noticed a shimmer forming in front of the sun.</p> <p>“Guys, you might want to look at this.” He said to the others, as he pointed towards the sea.</p> <p>Everyone now took notice of the vastly growing shimmering aura and energy that was forming out on the ocean. It grew and rippled as it began to take form, like a desert mirage. The strange noise also began to change, as it shifted from a soft humming to a melodic chorus of hymns. The sound they heard could best be compared to an angelic choir singing in harmony.</p> <p>It wasn’t long before the light of the aura began to softly fade, and as it did, structures began to become more visible. Gleaming white and golden buildings, silver towers, and expansive bridges could be seen. But the most amazing sight of all of was the massive palace-like structure in the center, one that towered over all the other buildings and loomed over all its surroundings like a guardian angel.</p> <p>Fata Morgana, the Silver Spire of the Fae Empire… had returned.</p> <p>“By Bahamut’s scales…” Captain Agron said in absolute shock and amazement, as he lowered his spear while continuing to stare at the incredible sight before him</p> <p>“Fata Morgana…” Asheworth said, just as hypnotized by the sight.</p> <p>Everyone was absolutely overwhelmed as they admired the sight lying before them. The glistening lights coming from the many buildings within the city, the angelic and beautifully crafted architecture, and the omnipresent white glow that surrounded it all… It had to be the most beautiful and divine sight that any of them have ever seen.</p> <p>“Ooh… It-it’s so beautiful.” Rivera said as she came out of her stunned trance.</p> <p>“…It’s enough to make a grow man cry.” Halloran said, as his eyes began to water, overwhelmed by the stunning city. Then he suddenly shook his head as he came to, before wiping away the tears and trying to act calm. “N-not that I was crying or anything!”</p> <p>But it became clear someone was crying as they heard the sound of sniffling and quick breathing. It became clear that Gwyneth was the culprit as she continued to film the sight before her, her eyes becoming red as they dripped with tears. Seeing this Rivera immediately went over to comfort her friend.</p> <p>“Olivié, are you okay?”</p> <p>Gwyneth remained silent for several seconds before finally responding.</p> <p>“I’m more than okay. I’m overwhelmed with joy!” She said as her expression shifted to that of absolute glee, as she continued crying tears of joy. “It’s real. The legends were true! Fata Morgana IS REAL, and it’s even more beautiful than I ever imagined!” As she began to regain her composure, she exclaimed. “We have to get in there!” with pure excitement.</p> <p>“I agree with the young lady. I think it’s time we see this metropolis from the inside!” King Ragna said as he was just as excited to visit the city.</p> <p>“Well then, what the hell are we just standing around for?! Everyone into the… Chopper?” Halloran began instructing the others, before something in front of them suddenly caught his attention.</p> <p>Just in front of them, a large flat spherical disk manifested on the beach. It was shiny and reflective, it looked as if it were composed of pure silver. Suddenly, another disk appeared behind the first one, then another disk after that one, and then another, and another, and another. The disks continued to manifest out of thin air, aligning vertically in front of each one another towards the city. It was quickly clear to everyone what they were looking at.</p> <p>It was a bridge.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>“Well… that’s convenient.” Rivera said as she got over the sudden surprise.</p> <p>“…Right, I forgot silver disks manifesting was mentioned in the 3903 document. But this wasn’t supposed to happen! They only form after a 3903-A throws a skipping stone, and they never straight up manifested into a bridge before!” Halloran said as he moved up to one of the disks then knelt to get a closer look.</p> <p>“Who cares! We have a bridge so let’s take it. Besides you can ask them when we’re inside!” Gwyneth said as she immediately hopped onto the first disk, startling Halloran who ended up falling face first on the silvery surface. Gwyneth then proceeded to cross the bridge, overwhelmed by excitement and this golden opportunity.</p> <p>“Olivié, wait!” Rivera shouted as she began to follow Gwyneth, attempting to catch up with her.</p> <p>“Well then, let us not let the young Fae lady wait any longer. Let us move forward, come Agron!” King Ragna said to the rest of the party as he too began crossing the bridge with Captain Agron following right behind him.</p> <p>Halloran then got up and rubbed his forehead, annoyed that Gwyneth surprised him and made him hit his head.</p> <p>“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think we should follow the others. I’m honestly just as curious to find out what we’ll see.” Asheworth said as he helped up Halloran.</p> <p>“Yeah, you’re right, no more waiting” Halloran said as the two of them proceeded to catch up with the others on the bridge.</p> <p>For almost 30 minutes, they continued walking forward as the city got closer and closer, while the shore grew further and further in the distance. Things were calm and peaceful as they made their way across the bridge. As they did so, each of them couldn’t help but wonder what would be waiting for them.</p> <p>During their walk, Asheworth wondered what kind of rich sources of thaumaturgical knowledge they would uncover. Considering the feeling of reality warping and the EVE readings that were detected, he suspected that Fata Morgana seemed to be outside of baseline reality. This made him beg the question however, why and how did it happen? Was there some sort of major anomalous event that separated it from baseline reality, or was Fata Morgana always like this? It couldn’t help but remind him of Esterberg, a nexus that was both full of magic, and home to many Fae. Maybe Fata Morgana was always a nexus? Well, he hoped to soon find out the answers.</p> <p>Rivera, on the other hand, was more interested in the culture and lifestyle of the city. At first, she expected the city to appear deserted and in ruins, but the sight before her told her the exact opposite. She also recalled the information Halloran told her about the 3903-A instances that claimed to be reborn Fae, how the city appeared to them, and how a number of them had apparently entered its walls. Taking all those details into consideration, there was no doubt in her mind there were people in the city. She just hoped that they were peaceful.</p> <p>Halloran was thinking about the vast history and artifacts which could be uncovered. If this city really did exist back during the Fae Empire, then surely they must have history books overflowing with knowledge of the past. He could already image the quality and quantity of artifacts they’d get to glimpse, judging by the size of the city and its architecture. One thing was for certain, he had his fingers crossed for the chance that they had a museum.</p> <p>King Ragna was curious about what kind of government this city followed, and who lead it. He recalled during their meeting with the Dragoon’s Circle, that Rivera informed them Fata Morgana did not follow Mab’s ways. If that was true, he hoped that his people and theirs would come to an agreement and form an alliance or beneficial relationship. If these people did follow The Inventor’s teachings, and if the ancient stories regarding the noble Avalus were true, then surely they would want to make up for the atrocities committed on his ancestors because of Mab.</p> <p>Gwyneth, on the other hand, she wanted to know everything. She shared the same curiosities as the others, but she yearned to learn everything from their traditions, technology, laws, economy, politics, artworks, literature, and more. She was so excited she was even noting down a list of questions as they were walking. Normally she wouldn’t be so giddy and enthusiastic, but who wouldn’t be when they had the opportunity to study a surviving remnant of one of the most powerful empires in all of ancient history.</p> <p>It wasn’t long before their walk finally came to an end. They found themselves standing in front of a massive pair of highly decorated golden double doors. Each half made up the effigy of a crowned Fae woman with six wings, and had light blue gems in place of eyes. They could also see that the city was surrounded by a large white wall, with watchtowers located every forty feet.</p> <p>“Ok, am I the only one who feels like they’re standing at the gates of Heaven?” Halloran asked everyone as he stood staring at the massive gate in awe.</p> <p>“I mean, it is a heavenly sight.” Rivera replied with a shrug of her shoulders.</p> <p>“Marvelous, quite fine craftsmanship! This reminds me a lot of the Arcadian gates.” King Ragna said as he walked up and slid his hands on the doors, admiring the fine carvings and smooth polishing of the metal.</p> <p>Suddenly, Captain Agron jolted as if he felt a presence. He then looked up before quickly dashing toward King Ragna “GET BACK MY LIEGE!” He grabbed King Ragna by his shoulder guard before pulling him away from the gate back towards the others.</p> <p>“Calm yourself Agron! I was just admiring the—“ King Ragna tried to assure Captain Agron that there was nothing to fear.</p> <p>Until he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a figure standing before them.</p> <p>“Oh, I see.”</p> <p>Standing in front of them was a woman in an elegant armor made of a silver metal with a violet tint. She carried some form of khopesh staff or a war scythe with a crescent moon shaped blade head. The armor was not bulky but light and slim in design, as it hugged her figure perfectly. It seemed designed for quick and acrobatic movement. She wore a helmet with a violet visor made from what appeared to be glass or some form of crystal. There were no gauntlets for the hands, leaving them bare, and strangely she wore no footwear. With the exception of what resembled white silk stirrups, she was practically barefoot.</p> <p>Even with the armor, it was easy to recognize what this woman was, she was a Fae. However, she had many characteristics that differed her from a common Fae like Gwyneth. She had the same elegant pale skin, but it appeared much healthier in color and saturation. It had a blue hue and tint, as well as a visible shine to it. Her eyes were just as big and shiny, but they were a bright green instead of pure black. Her hair was a dandelion yellow and hung in a ponytail poking out of the back of the helmet. But it was her wings that were the most unusual. They were immense, with an ethereal glow to them. They were pearly white, with a rainbow of colors visibly shifting continuously in a spectral pattern. This made the wings resemble an aurora borealis. But the most shocking part, more specifically for Gwyneth, was that her wings were fluttering gently, and she was hovering just above the ground.</p> <p>“The hell?! Where did she come from?!” Halloran shouted in shock at the armored Fae’s arrival.</p> <p>They would soon be answered as, from above, more armored Fae, both male and female, came down from atop of the white wall. All of them either soaring down on their wings or slowing their fall by fluttering them until they landed softly. All of them were in the same armored attire and carried weapons, some a form of blade and others that resembled… guns? They also all had the same physical characteristics as the female. Shiny pale skin, colorful shiny eyes, vibrant colored hair, and large shimmering wings capable of flight.</p> <p>Everyone was on edge by the arrival of the armed guards. Captain Agron moved in front of King Ragna and stood defensively. Gwyneth however, continued to stare at them in shock, amazement and familiarity. Having studied and read all about the legends of Fata Morgana, she immediately recognized the Fae in front of them.</p> <p>“Changelings…”</p> <p>She immediately jumped in between both parties and held both her hands up at the stranger signaling them to stop. This seemed to be working, as they recognized her as a fellow Fae. Their tensions lowered a bit.</p> <p>“Olivié, what are you doing?!” Rivera questioned, as she became concerned for her friend’s safety.</p> <p>“Just let me try and talk to them, I think they’re just being cautious. Please, let me try.” Gwyneth assured the others that she knew what she was doing, and to give her a chance.</p> <p>“Miss, please. It might be too dangerous, we don’t—“ Captain Agron tried to persuade Gwyneth not to interact as he still had his doubts. But then King Ragna put his hand on Agron’s shoulder and looked at him with a calm and commanding demeanor.</p> <p>“No, let her speak. I trust her judgement.”</p> <p>“But my liege—“</p> <p>“Stand down!” King Ragna commanded Captain Agron, with a stern commanding voice, who after several seconds complied and lowered his weapon.</p> <p>Nodding her head in appreciation for trusting her, Gwyneth then slowly approached the guards. She cleared her throat a little before she began to speak to them in ancient Fae.</p> <p>“(Do not worry, we are not here to cause any trouble. Please, let me explain.)”</p> <p>The guards were surprised at the sound of Gwyneth speaking ancient Fae. They began whispering to one another, all except for the female guard with the dandelion hair who raised her hand to silence them. She then pressed a sigil on the side of her helmet and the violet visor dematerialized, fully revealing her bright neon green eyes. Despite her intimidating expression, the look in her eyes showed she was just as surprised as the other guards.</p> <p>She then began speaking back to Gwyneth, also in Fae, with what resembled a Brazilian accent.</p> <p>“(…You speak our ancestral language? I was under the impression that most had forgotten in favor of the many human languages.)”</p> <p>“(Yes, most if not all other Fae speak in the modern languages created by humans, although there are still many others who speak modern Fae or our ancestral language. You and your squad… you are Changelings, aren’t you? Sidhe Leanan Hesperides?)” Gwyneth responded back as she was now standing face to face with the guard.</p> <p>“(Indeed, but I am surprised that you also know of our genetic lineage. Most usually refer to us as Changelings, or simply as Fae.)” The guard responded as she was becoming more comfortable with Gwyneth and was also becoming more curious about her.</p> <p>“(That’s because I am a historian. My name is Olivié Gwyneth. I study the history and culture of the ancient Fae Empire, including its myths and its peoples. Such as what is described in this tome.)” Gwyneth said as she pulled out the same tome about the Spire Star from her backpack before she showed it to the guard, whose eyes widened in recognition at the illustration shown to her.</p> <p>“(The Spire Star, the six cities…)” She was then silent for a few seconds before she looked at Gwyneth. (Was it you who played Morgana’s Lullaby?)”</p> <p>“(Well, not me exactly.)” Gwyneth then turned towards the others before looking back at the guard “(So this really is Fata Morgana?)”</p> <p>The Guard simply responded with a soft nod as her demeanor became softer and more welcoming.</p> <p>Halloran then decided to approach and help, by explaining what’s going on.</p> <p>“Um… (“Pardon me for interrupting, but I feel I should—)”</p> <p>The female guard however interrupted him by speaking to them… in English. A huge surprise to Halloran and the others.</p> <p>“It is not required to speak in our native tongue, we are quite familiar with the languages of these modern times.”</p> <p>“Ooh… Well, that’s quite convenient.” Halloran said as he wiped his forehead while quietly muttering to himself. “Thank god.” He then shifted back to a more professional demeanor. “…As I was saying, would you mind explaining why you tried to attack us?”</p> <p>“My apologies. However, we were not trying to attack you. We were merely being cautious as we were unsure if you were friend or foe.” she said, before placing her right hand on her left breast plate. “I am Artoria Fernclove, Captain of the royal guards. Now, which one of you played Morgana’s Lullaby?”</p> <p>“That would be me, Captain Fernclove. I played the melody which summoned your magnificent citadel. However, it was young Asheworth and his companions who discovered the relic which revealed the melody to them.” King Ragna said as he approached, now standing beside Gwyneth.</p> <p>“And who might you be sir? Also, and pardon me for asking, but… what exactly are you? I don’t believe I am familiar with a creature such as yourself and your armored companion. However, judging by your attire, I assume you are some form of aristocrat or monarch.” Artoria questioned as she examined King Ragna with unfamiliarity.</p> <p>“You are indeed correct. My name is Ragna Von Morrowind, I am the Vajra King of the city of Arcadia. I am what is now known as a Droganian. However, I should let you know that your race has interacted with mine before, long before Fata Morgana or even the empire existed. Though we were much different in the past then we are now.” King Ragna introduced himself with a bow and his hand on his heart.</p> <p>This made Artoria and the other guards raise their eyebrows in confusion.</p> <p>“What? I am afraid that is impossible, for as far as I know, the only such reptilian creatures that we Fae have ever interacted with were the…” Artoria stopped suddenly as she came to a sudden realization, one that caused her eyes to widen with absolute shock. “…No. You… It-it can’t possibly be…”</p> <p>It seemed that her companions had the same realization as they wore the same shocked expression.</p> <p>“Maybe it would be better if I simply showed you.” He then looked over to Asheworth and the others “If you would be so kind as to give me some space.”</p> <p>They immediately knew what King Ragna was implying and they all backed away, as he did a little as well. Finally, King Ragna began to close his eyes as he built up thaumaturgical power, so much so that his hair and robes started flailing as if caught in strong wind. His entire body was then engulfed in a golden aura, which then began to morph into a new shape and grew much larger in size. Finally, after several seconds the aura diminished, revealing the king in his glorious dragon form.</p> <p>He was truly a sight to behold. A draig dragon with a muscular yet elegant figure. His body was completely covered in shiny, smooth, crimson scales. There were small white spot patterns dotted all along the legs, body, and tail, while golden stripes went across his neck. His underbelly was milky white and edged in gold. He had a long flowing white mane that narrowed along his neck and ended at the tip of his long tail. He had two large golden-brown horns that took an inner crescent shape and looked as smooth and polished as marble. Much like his humanoid form, he had blue eyes, and the leather folds of his wings were golden orange. His wings were strong and majestic. Even in his dragon form, he radiated the elegance and power of a king.</p> <p>Asheworth and Rivera were genuinely impressed by his appearance, as this was the first time they had ever seen King Ragna’s dragon form. Halloran and Gwyneth were just as impressed, as they stared at him wide eyed.</p> <p>However, Artoria and the guards had the strongest reactions, as they all loudly gasped with wide eyes, their faces showing absolute shock and disbelief. Some of them even dropped their weapons, letting them tumble onto the ground. Artoria, while barely audible, even whispered “Sky Keeper…” to herself.</p> <p>They all stared at the winged lord for several more seconds, before they all fell to their knees and bowed to him, as if he were a divine figure… Which he technically was to them.</p> <p>“Huh, looks like you made the right decision bringing him” Halloran said to Rivera, slightly amused by the guards bowing at King Ragna’s feet, both metaphorically and literally.</p> <p>“There is no need to show such admiration. I am indeed flattered by your respect, but it is not necessary. You may rise.” King Ragna said with a booming, yet gentle voice. He then was engulfed in the golden aura again as he reverted back to his humanoid form. “But yes, the Sky Keepers live on, stronger than ever thanks to the individuals before you” He then addressed Asheworth and Rivera, who couldn’t help but smile because of the respect.</p> <p>The guards all rose, and the ones who dropped their weapons retrieved them with a look of slight embarrassment. Artoria then slowly walked up to King Ragna, now looking at him with great respect.</p> <p>“…Why have you come here?” She asked.</p> <p>“Well, my companions wish to learn about your metropolis here and its people. They believe that whatever information you can provide them could be useful to them in protecting the world from forces that would seek to destroy it. They would also like to know of your city’s history and what led to its disappearance in the past. As for me, I was hoping of speaking with your leaders in negotiations, in the hopes that mine and your people could form a beneficial relationship, such as a partnership or an alliance. Is this acceptable? Much like my companions, I do also wish to see the inside of your beautiful home.” King Ragna informed Artoria as he looked up at the golden gates again.</p> <p>Artoria was surprised at first by this information, before she suddenly turned to her guards.</p> <p>“OPEN THE GATES!”</p> <p>The others immediately saluted back before they flew back up into the sky and over the wall. A few seconds later, the gates began opening, and light emerged through the open space between the two doors. Eventually they opened completely, allowing them all to see the inside of the city. It was even more glorious on the inside than on the outside.</p> <p>“Welcome, to the city of Fata Morgana! Come, her Grace would want to speak with you all immediately!” Artoria greeted them with a welcoming smile, as she took on a more excited demeanor and encouraged them all to follow her.</p> <p>“Yes ma’am! Oh, I have so many questions!” Gwyneth said, as she rushed to stand next to Artoria.</p> <p>The others immediately followed as they passed through the gates, finally getting a glimpse of the Fae utopia.<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><span style="font-size: 200%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-spire-part-2">{Part 2}</a></strong></span></p> </div> <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="/the-lost-spire-part-1">The Lost Spire, Part 1</a>" by WarriorofChaos, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-lost-spire-part-1">https://scpwiki.com/the-lost-spire-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> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Entrance_into_Dow_Cave_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1028631.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Entrance_into_Dow_Cave_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1028631.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Painting.png<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Abraham_van_beijeren,_imbarcazioni_in_una_burrasca,_1645-50_ca.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 1</a><br/> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Starry_sky_at_Mount_Rinjani,_Lombok_island.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 2</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> The-Six-Cities.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/24029425@N06/4459357335">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Silver Tower Melody.mp3<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> WarriorofChaos<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> FL Studio 21</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Fata Morgana Horizon.png<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=81310539">Wikimedia Commons Image 1</a><br/> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/105106606@N05/43511551295">Flickr Image 1</a><br/> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:View_of_Taj_mahal_on_a_great_dusky_evening.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 2</a><br/> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taj_Mahal_in_India.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 3</a><br/> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toronto_-_ON_-_Skyline10.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 4</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a> poland=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[module CSS]] .email-example .collapsible-block-folded a.collapsible-block-link { animation: blink 0.8s ease-in-out infinite alternate; } @keyframes blink { 0% { color: transparent; } 50%, 100% { color: #b01; } } .email {border: solid 2px #000000; width: 88%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.5)} .email-example a.collapsible-block-link {font-weight: bold;} .tofrom {margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 1px 15px; border-left: solid 3px maroon} [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=WarriorofChaos \|center=]] = The Lost Spire (Part 1)* by [[user WarriorofChaos]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote" style="width: intrinsic; width: -moz-max-content; width: -webkit-max-content; text-align:center; margin: 10px auto;"]] [https://youtu.be/lR2lMI5Wn-A Recommended reading music] [[/div]] @@ @@ ---- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] + 2008 [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ 20th of March [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]Cave Entrance: Dingle Peninsula, Co. Kerry, Ireland[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Entrance_into_Dow_Cave_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1028631.jpg style="width: 500px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ “This is the entrance to the ruins?” “Yeah, this hole heads straight down.” “How do you know for sure it’s connected to the Fae Empire?” “Hey, I may still be a rookie, but I’ve seen a lot of the crazy crap Site-120 gets involved with, and when I took a peek inside the ruins, I saw writing on the walls that matched the Fae artifacts I’ve seen in Vemhoff's department.” Standing before the recently uncovered hole leading into the mysterious underground cavern, Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Jessie Rivera, and junior Site-120 archeologist Chris Halloran are preparing to conduct the on-site investigation of the caverns. MTF units and mobile researchers are present to assist the investigators and ensure civilians don’t enter the area. “I still think it’s crazy. I mean, how did a relaxing family trip turn into discovering more ruins?! I honestly didn’t plan this.” Chris said, feeling dumbstruck by his unexpected luck. “Either way, you should be proud of yourself.” Rivera said to Chris with a slight grin. He’d only started working for Site-120 several months earlier, yet she and many of the other personnel had already grown to admire his fascination for ancient civilizations and his charming sense of curiosity. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m annoyed I have to scrap my day off, but I’m intrigued to see what’s down there! Plus, at the very least I’ll be credited for the discovery.” “I guess that is something to help improve one’s mood.” Asheworth says as he pulls out his EVE Emission Scanning Portable Radar tablet, or EESPR for short. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7629 Ever since they discovered Arcadia back in 1998], Site-120’s Research and Maintenance teams, along with assistance from other sites, have researched extensively to develop more durable and versatile EVE scanners for their personnel. The new EESPRs are not only capable of handling incredibly vast amounts of EVE radiation without risk of overloading, but are even able to identify the specific form of EVE that is being detected, meaning it can inform the user what type of entities or objects the readings are coming from. Asheworth takes a few steps closer as he points the radar towards the mouth of the cave and proceeds to scan the entrance. Twelve seconds later it finishes analyzing and the readings are displayed. “So, what do we got Daniel? You pick up anything?” Rivera asks as she comes to Asheworth’s side to view the radar’s readings. “Well, I’m getting some faint traces of residual EVE coming from deep in the tunnels. It’s old and degraded, but the readings say it’s definitely of Fae origin.” He turns to Halloran to inform him of the results. “You were right Chris; these are indeed Fae ruins.” “See? I knew I was right! You guys can thank me later when we’re not busy.” Chris said with a satisfied laugh. “Yes Chris, we’ll pat you on the back when this is all over. But the question now is, what was this structure for?” Rivera says as she stares down the dark tunnel. “I think it’s time we find out. Let’s gather up a squad and get geared up. I’ll inform command of the current findings.” Asheworth says as he puts away the EESPR and proceeds to walk back to the on-site camp. “Roger that, doc. But do we really have to bring a task force with us though? I mean it’s just ruins.” asked Chris. “I’d rather be cautious than go in unprepared. After all, we can’t ignore the possibility those tunnels may not be deserted.” Rivera starts to follow Asheworth back to camp while Halloran thinks over what she said before following them. After Asheworth informs the rest of the on-site personnel, as well as command about the EVE readings in the tunnel and the confirmation of Fae origination, they gather the team members who will be exploring the tunnel. The team will be led by Ashworth and Rivera, with Halloran following behind to assist with archeological investigations. “Okay remember, we need to keep our eyes peeled and stay cautious at all times. If there are any hostile entities down there, we don’t want to risk them surprising us.” Ashworth informs the exploration team as they all stand in front of the cavern entrance. “I also want you to stay right next to us Chris, don’t want to risk having you disappear on us.” “When have I ever when exploring ruins?” said Chris “You never know which ruins might be your last.” Rivera retorts to Halloran’s uneasiness. “That’s a fair point, I’ll stay close.” Halloran responds after swallowing the lump in his throat. “Alright. Now if there’s no more questions, lets get moving.” [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/four-knights-tango/logosmall.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ 20th of March [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]Unknown Ruins: Dingle Peninsula, Co. Kerry, Ireland[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- Several minutes after traversing through the tunnels, the team found themselves walking along crumbling marble walls and worn out alabaster floors. Asheworth stops and shines his flashlight on a large rusty plaque engraved with ancient writing. “Yep, this is Fae alright. This is the same royal seal we’ve been finding in ruins connected to the Fae Empire.” “If that seal is on this plaque, that means this was an important location to the royal powers, whether it be Mab or her sister.” Rivera stated as she approached the plaque. She leaned in and carefully brushed away a layer of dust to better view the writing. “Chris, can you decipher this? Vemhoff informed me that you’ve been learning ancient anomalous languages as part of your studies.” “I’ve helped Vemhoff on occasion with translations, so this shouldn’t be a problem.” Halloran cracks his fingers as he steps in front of the plaque and points his light towards it. “Well…from what I can decipher here, this place was used by the royal powers as a repository.” “A repository? How so?” asked Asheworth. “If I were to guess, this place was used by either of the two queens to store objects of great value, such as ancient treasure, artifacts. and documents.” The idea of a structure filled with artifacts and treasures of the Fae Empire really intrigued both Asheworth and Rivera. Any such items could prove very useful in learning more about the mysteries of the empire and the ancient past. “Could it be possible that they also stored objects that the empire hoarded or stole from other races during their rule?” Rivera asks Halloran as she shines her light deeper down the halls. “Well, if the Fae thought they were important or valuable enough then it’s possible. Let’s just hope nothing down there deteriorated beyond restora-huh? Hold the phone.” “What is it?” Rivera asks. “I think there’s something else written here.” Halloran points his light toward a spot near the bottom right corner of the plaque that is still coated in dust. He carefully brushes the dust away revealing a message that had been chiseled onto the plaque. “It looks like someone carved a message on here.” “What does it say?” Asheworth asked as he and Rivera moved in closer to see the message. “Let’s see…” Halloran proceeded to drag his finger under the letters as he transcribed the writing. “I leave this message on the chance that I’ve succeeded in bringing retribution upon my sibling for her crimes, but have unfortunately perished myself. This repository was used to guard some of our most sacred relics and our most powerful tools of subjugation and destruction. Fearing the chance that I have been slain along with my sister, I have placed many art pieces and historical scrolls for those who come after us to ensure we and our history are not forgotten, as well as to ensure our more peacemaking wonders are not lost. But more importantly, I leave these to ensure that the next great civilizations after to come do not repeat the mistakes and crimes we have committed as the result of my sibling’s wicked heart. If any have stumbled upon this vault and finds this message, please…do not let darkness shackle this world and Gaia’s children once again.” Halloran is silent for several seconds as he contemplates what he just deciphered. “…that’s quite a depressing message.” “Yeah… and I’m pretty sure I have a good idea who wrote it.” Asheworth says as he then looks over to Rivera, the look on her face telling him that she had the exact same idea. “Well then, now that we’re aware of what it is that we’re dealing with, we should keep on moving.” “Hold on, first things first.” Halloran then pulls out a digital camera from his pack and snaps an image of the plaque. “Just taking images for documentation and archiving, photographic evidence is one of the most important pieces of documentation in my opinion.” “Smart thinking Chris.” Asheworth says before he turns back to the rest of the team patiently waiting. “All right, let’s keep moving, but stay cautious and pay attention. If this place contains treasure, then there’s the possibility of booby traps up ahead, that is if whoever left that message didn’t disable them first.” The team continued their trek through the abandoned hallways of the repository. Along the way Halloran took numerous pictures of the surrounding structures, along with examining any objects of interest. They came across a number of degraded marble podiums, some of them with busts of two separate crowned Fae females. The conditions of both the podiums and busts ranged from barely intact to completely shattered. Halloran stopped to look at the shattered pieces with a look of consideration before he suddenly crouched down and started collecting the broken marble pieces. Rivera and Asheworth took notice of this and looked confused at Halloran’s actions. “What are you doing Chris? I know we said to collect artifacts, but I don’t think those broken pieces will be of any value.” “I’m not collecting them for study, they are for testing.” “Testing, testing what?” asked Rivera. “Well, if there are possibly booby traps in this place that are still operational, then we need some way to test this without wasting lives or valuable resources.” Halloran follows this by tossing a hand sized chunk of marble into the air before catching it. “That’s what these will be for.” Asheworth thought about Halloran’s plan. It would be better to not risk his or the team’s lives just to check for traps, so using something useless like a throwing stone would be a preferable substitute. “Good thinking Chris. Everybody, grab some stones! We might need them for trap checking.” Everyone proceeded to stuff their pockets and packs with pieces of marble chunks, afterwards they continued forward. More than half an hour passed as they travel downward. Every few steps they would stop and toss a handful of stones forward to test for a trap. Luckily the team had not encountered any form of traps yet, so they continued on their way, while Halloran documented their progress through photos. During the walk, Asheworth pulled out his EESPR tablet and begin taking readings. A high amount of Fae EVE was definitely being picked up as they went further down, signifying that they were getting closer to the end of the structure. Suddenly, they heard the sound of a loud metal clanging in the distance. Everyone was tense as the MTF raised their weapons cautiously. “What was that?!” “Shh! Keep it down.” Asheworth looked toward the squad leader and gestured for him to come forward. Following the order, the MTF then moved up ahead to investigate. They stopped by the next turn as the leader counted down before they moved forward and pointed their guns down the hall. After several seconds they lowered their weapons. “All clear! It seems an armor set on display just stared falling apart and its weapon toppled over.” “Well that’s a relief” Halloran sayid as he wiped the sweat that was forming on his head. “We should still stay on our toes just in case.” Rivera replied as they and the others caughtt up with the MTF and continued forward. Halloran stopped to examine the crumbling armor. It resembled that of a medieval knight’s armor, but it had a more regal design, and was made of a glittering silver metal with a slight violet hue. It was beautifully embellished and engraved with floral patterns and inlays filled with gold. Even in such a deteriorated state, it was a work of art. “Such craftsmanship! Is this what the royal guards of the empire wore? You don’t come across such fine armor sets as this very often in expeditions.” Halloran wasted no time taking several pictures before catching up with the others. As he did, he noticed many other sets of armor on display, all in varying states of decay and wielding many forms of weapons such as spears and glaives. Eventually, their walk reached its end as they came across a set of ornamental double doors, each depicting carvings of two crowned Fae females. Asheworth pointed his light upwards to reveal a groove opening in front of the doors and saw what resembled a portcullis. “This is it, the vault doors.” “Looks like the person who left that note also left the vault open for us, how generous of them.” “Kind of a risky decision don’t you think? Didn’t they worry their own people might try to steal its contents? “I guess not.” “Well then, how about we see what’s inside shall we?” Harrison said as he rubbed his hands together before proceeding to push open the double doors. “Chris wait!“ Asheworth called out in warning, but was too late as the double doors had already been opened. The other side revealed a massive open chamber with a domed ceiling. A silver chandelier covered in large orange crystals was hanging in the center of the area. To their surprise, the chandelier crystals were emitting a warm light that was enough to illuminate the chamber, revealing all the contents within. The room was filled to the brim with jewels of all shapes and colors, coins and heirlooms made of many forms of precious metals, many art pieces ranging from statues and paintings, objects that resembled weapons or some form of magic constructs, as well as numerous scrolls and tomes. “It’s like being in an Indiana Jones movie!” one of the MTF said as they all looked upon the room in surprise. “Look at all this gold and these relics! There’s enough in here to fill a museum, and we could fill an entire library with all these documents!” Rivera said to Asheworth, amazed at the treasure they saw before them. “I know, this is indeed a huge find.” Asheworth then moves up to Halloran as he puts his hand on his shoulder and looks at Halloran with a smile. “Congratulations Chris, I think you may have just earned yourself a promotion from the higher ups.” “… You know what, I take back what I said earlier. I’m grateful that I stumbled upon this place on my vacation!” Chris said as he couldn’t help but grin like an excited child before he rushed into the chamber to examine the contents. “All right then, let’s get to work! Half of the MTF will head back topside to inform command of what we’ve discovered and get containment units down here to gather the contents of this chamber. The rest of us will get to work cataloging and examining the contents.” Asheworth informed. For the next hour, they all began charting down and examining the chamber’s contents. The contents were remarkably preserved over time, most likely through thaumaturgical means. Asheworth was busy scanning all the objects with the EESPR, discovering that all the constructs and many of the weapons emitted lots of EVE radiation. Rivera examined the figurines. Many were of Fae individuals who she theorized were likely very important cultural or historical figures to the Fae Empire. Some of the paintings depicted landscapes, but others portrayed what might’ve been major historical events. Halloran occupied himself with examining and translating the scrolls and tomes, all of which either described historical events or myths and legends told during the empire’s golden age. All the while the rest of the team examined the other treasures and prepped them to be transported. “Wow, who would’ve thought one of Mab’s children would go on to be one of the empire’s most tenacious and tactical commanders? Huh, so that’s what seelie and unseelie means in Fae culture. Wait. Mab and…Wha-why can’t I read this one word? Is this supposed to be a name or-Whaa!” Halloran was so deep into reading the tome he was holding, that he did not notice the tipped over gold candle holder until it was too late. He tripped over it causing him to fall to the ground and led to a waterfall of gems and coins to shower onto his head. “Ow! Oh, by Saint Andrews’ balls that hurt! I hope nobody saw that because I don’t want this making me look like a-hello?” Halloran said as he dug himself out of the pile of loot that he was unintentionally buried under, his self-complaints were interrupted when his eyes caught sight of something interesting. A very beautiful oil painting, one that was apparently buried under the treasure he’d accidentally knocked over. The painting was held within a very regal floral themed armor frame, made from the same material that the armor in the halls were made of. But the contents of the painting were what caught his attention the most. The painting depicted a city of white buildings under a moon-lit, star-filled sky. The center of the painting held a massive gold and marble palace, topped by a large spire and surrounded by towers. It was possibly one of the most beautiful paintings he’s ever seen in his life. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Painting.png style="width: 675px;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ “Well, aren't you quite a sight to behold! What are you doing under all these treasures?” Halloran proceeded to pick up the painting and examine it much closer. “Never seen a place like this depicted in works in any of the other ruins we’ve found. Even the architecture seems completely different. Then again, if this painting is in here then this place must be related to the Fae, and is very important.” Halloran thinks it over and decides to bring it to Rivera to hear her input. “Hey Doctor Rivera, you got a minute?” “Yeah, what is it?” “I found this painting and I can’t figure out the location it’s depicting. Do you recognize it?” He presents it to Rivera who begins to examine the painting. As she does, she can’t help but admire the professionalism and intricacy of its craftsmanship. “Huh, where did you find this?” “It was buried under a huge coin pile. I assumed since it was stored in here, the painting must be important, or the city it’s depicting is. So does it ring any bells?” “No, doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen. This is something new, but I agree that it’s probably important. Hey Daniel, Come here!” Hearing Rivera, Asheworth immediately headed over to Rivera and Halloran. “What’s going on?” “Chris found this painting; he believes the city it is depicting might be of great importance. Have you ever seen anything similar”? Rivera asked. Asheworth began to examine the painting, seeming just as curious and intrigued as her and Halloran. “Hmm, it doesn’t seem familiar to anything I’ve come across before, however the frame is obviously made from irrilite. The buildings shown are clearly of Fae architecture, but the style is different.” “Maybe it’s the capitol of the empire?” asked Halloran. “Arlende? Unlikely. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-enlightened-children Tomes] and paintings the Droganians have shared with us bare little resemblance to our find.” Rivera replied. What about those two Fae kingdoms that were destroyed decades ago? Asked Halloran “Hy-Brasil and Avalon? Impossible. We’ve seen photos of Hy-Brasil before it was destroyed. The architecture doesn’t match, and it also can’t possibly be Avalon because from the data and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/finding-avalon documents] we’ve gathered, Avalon had no large structures and was more akin to a village. Besides, those kingdoms didn’t exist until after the Fourth Occult War.” Rivera replied back. “What about Olivié? Did she mention anything like this when discussing ancient Fae history?” Asheworth asked Rivera as he put down the painting. “She might have, I can’t seem to recall. But it would be a good idea to speak with her and see if she’s found something that matches.” “I’ll also send a message to O5 Command and see if they have anything that matches, maybe The Foundation already came across it but were, unaware of its connection to the Fae. Chris, I’d take a photo of the painting.” “Already on it.” Chris said as he took out his camera and took several images of the painting. “I’ll print out a couple copies so you guys can present them to whoever you plan to get answers from.” “All right. Let’s just finish up here until the containment team arrives, and then we can head back and begin our investigation.” With the plan thought out, the three of them continued archiving all the contents of the chamber. Two hours later the containment team arrived and assists in gathering all artifacts. [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/four-knights-tango/logosmall.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ 20th of March [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][[[esterberg-city-wikipedia\|Esterberg's Market District]]]: Częstochowa, Silesian Voivodeship, Poland[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- As head archivist, it was just another day of reviewing old documents and ancient records for Olivié Gwyneth. She’d just finished explaining another old tome for a client. With a sigh of relief, Gwyneth placed her client notes in an envelope and tossed it into her “Out” box. “Finally, that should cover the last request for the day.” Satisfied with another job done for the Sidhe Lounge, Gwyneth stood up from her desk, stretched her arms up, and sighed with relief. She headed over to the kitchen to brew a cup of hot tea. ’’I’m drowning in archive requests. Maybe I should consider getting an assistant.” She said while waiting for her kettle to boil. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knocking at her her front door. “Huh, perfect timing.” With a smile, Gwyneth headed straight to the front door. Waiting on the other side was Jessie Rivera carrying a small envelope. “Hi Olivié, I guess you got my message?” “Yeah. Your timing is perfect, I just finished up and I’m making some tea.” “Thanks, that would be great. I can’t stay long; I have a lot of documenting I have to do back at 120.” Rivera said as she entered and followed Gwyneth to her personal library. “Sure, I understand. So, what did you want to talk to me about? You said you needed my help with something. I’m guessing it involves the Empire.” Gwyneth asked as she settled into one of her comfy reading chairs. “Yes. You remember Chris, that new junior archeologist I told you about? Earlier today while he was in Ireland during time off, he discovered an entrance to an underground tunnel. Daniel and I took a team down there to investigate and discovered an ancient structure from the Fae Empire.” “Oh, please tell me you found something big!” Gwyneth exclaimed. “We did. There was an Irrilite plaque with the royal seal not far from the tunnel entrance that Chris was able to translate. The ruins were a repository used by Mab and The Inventor, one that contained-” “A repository?! Jessie, be honest with me. Tell me that it wasn’t empty!” Gwyneth rose quickly got up from her chair and interrupted Rivera. “Let me finish. Anyway, that plaque I mentioned before, there was an inscribed message on it… a message that we have no reason to doubt was left by The Inventor. Apparently before she went to face against Mab, she came to this repository and stored many artifacts and documents of great importance to the empire, as well as intentionally leaving the repository opened and unprotected in the hopes of future civilizations discovering it and doing great good with it.” With eyes gone wide, Gwyneth just stood there frozen in place staring at Rivera as she took in all the information that she learned. … … //Squeal!// Until she broke this behavior by loudly squealing with glee and excitement. She then grabbed Rivera by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Jessie please! As one friend to another, you have //got// to get me into that repository! Just imagine all the untold historical text and valuable artifacts that are just waiting to be viewed!” Rivera gently pushes Gwyneth back into her chair. “Geez Olivié, relax! I think you might need to lay off the tea a little bit, you normally don’t react so hyper.” Rivera says as she sits back into her own chair. “Don’t be silly, there’s barely any sugar in the tea that I drink. Oh, that reminds me, just a second.” Gwyneth then gets up from her seat and heads back down the stairs. She comes back up a minute later with two fresh mugs of tea, giving one to Rivera. “Thanks. As for the repository, unfortunately we already had all the contents transported to Site-120. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll share everything we uncover. I’ll contact you if we ever need assistance.” Rivera then blew on her tea before taking a sip and placing it on the coffee table in front of them. “The contents are why I’m here actually. Well, one of them to be more specific.” Rivera then placed an envelope onto the table and slid it towards Gwyneth. “It’s this painting that Chris found. It seems to be of some sort of city, one likely of Fae origin given it was stored in there. However, we can’t seem to figure out the location it’s depicting. I was hoping maybe you have some idea, maybe you came across something similar.” “Well then, let me take a look.” Gwyneth picked up the envelope and slid out the photos into her hands. As she views the photos, her face slowly morphed from professional curiosity, to subtle familiarity and then to baffling shock. “By word… Is this? It-it can’t be… could it? It really exists?!” “What does exist? What is it?” Rivera asked as she can tell that Gwyneth is in disbelief. Gwyneth then quickly put the photos down before she rushed over toward her bookshelf and climbed the ladder to the higher shelves. After some searching, she found the tome she was looking for. She returned with it and placed the tome down on the table. Rivera caught a glimpse at the title — //The Spire Star: The Six Grand Citadels of the Fae Empire, By Trygve Dirmarren//. “Jessie… You might have just found the evidence needed to solve one of the oldest Fae mysteries and myths in all of history!” Gwyneth opened the tome and started to browse through the pages until stopping at one page with an illustration of a map depicting six cities. Five of them were placed on the point of a five-pointed star while the sixth was in the middle. Each city was also accompanied by text that appeared to be in Anglo-Saxon runes. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/The-Six-Cities.jpg style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ “Now, I’m sure you are familiar with the kingdom of Arlende right?” Gwyneth asked Rivera as she pulled out her reading glasses. “Of course. It was the capital of the Fae Empire where the royal palace of Mab and The Inventor was located, it was also the kingdom of the Star Gazers during the Age of Tranquility prior to the empire.” “Yes, but did you know it wasn’t the only major city of the Fae Empire?” Gwyneth then turned her attention to the map, individually pointing at the six cities. “While there were many smaller settlements the empire was composed of, there were six major city-states that were the empire’s center of power. They referred to these cities as the Spire Star. They were considered the most powerful, prosperous, and most beautiful cities in the entire empire, nothing could compare to how majestic they were. Not only that, but each city was inhabited by a specific sub-species of Fae people. Of course, only the upper class Fae were able to enjoy many of the benefits each city had to offer, though of course Fae of all kinds were free to visit and settle down in either.” She pointed to the city in the middle of the star. “First there was Arlende, the Velvet Spire, which was the heart and control of the Fae. The twin queens Mab and the Inventor ruled over all. It was the wealthiest and largest city. It was inhabited by the common Fae, //Homo Sapiens Sidhe//, but the population mainly consisted of aristocratic Fae. But you already knew all this of course.” Gwyneth then pointed to the upper right city. “Next was Brasilveen, the Amber Spire, considered the mind of the Spire Star. as it was a hub for learning and studying magic. This city was dominated by the Elves, scientifically named //Homo Sapiens Sidhe Tumuli//, or as you would know them as the Tuatha dé Danann. Many believe Hy-Brasil was built over the ruins of Brasilveen, due to the similarity in their names and the history of the inhabitants of both.” Gwyneth then pointed to the lower right city. “Then there was the Sapphire Spire. The name of this city has been lost to time, but the author of this tome has dubbed it [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/powrot-do-niflheimu Niflheim]. Located on a cliff along the shore, it was known as the Sea Hub and provided entertainment and relaxation, and even had a colosseum built for tournaments. Mab herself visited the city often, as it was governed by one of her own daughters. The dominant inhabitants were the Undine or Undying, scientifically named //Homo Sapiens Sidhe Naiad//. Sadly, it had one of the most destructive ends when it sank into the sea. There is some speculation that it may not have been completely destroyed, as witness accounts described seeing a bubble made of light forming around the city before the cliff collapsed into the water.” Gwyneth shifted her focus to the lower left city. “Fernafaun, the Emerald Spire, was nicknamed Gaia’s Meadow and the inhabitants embraced nature. They built their structures from natural materials such as towers made from hollowed out trees or living in high treehouses. They bonded with the creatures of the wild, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2952 enchanted them], and taught them magic. The entire city was filled with flora and fauna. Its people were known as Dryads and Sprites, both under the scientific name //Sidhe Norn Napaea//, with the Dryads embracing flora and the Sprites embracing fauna. As they were so linked with nature, their city survived the empire’s fall in a sense. The city fused with the very essence of nature itself.” Gwyneth then turned to the upper left city. “In the west was Neonachlar, the Opal Spire. Dubbed the Star Valley, it was known to have the most beautiful view of the night sky, resembling a black ocean filled with diamonds. Inhabited by the Pùca or pixies, scientifically dubbed //Homo Sapiens Sidhe Stellaris//. Pixies resembled Sidhe Fae, except they had pale green skin, six small eyes, and wings like a dragonfly. They were quite short and their hair was multicolored and vibrant. They were expert craftsmen who lived in crystal topped treehouses and towers so they could always watch the stars [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fae-myths-and-legends they worshipped and loved]. The fall of this city is up for debate. Some believe they went into hiding before the collapse, others think they found a way to ascend into the heavens to be among the stars, while others think they somehow escaped to [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oneiroi a realm of stardust and dreams].” Before Gwyneth could continue, Rivera put her hands up signaling her to stop. “Hold on Olivié, I’m going to have to stop you for a moment. Look, don’t get me wrong. I truly find the story you’re telling me fascinating, and it has helped me learn more about the empire and the Fae than I already knew. However, I honestly don’t see what this has to do with the painting we found. Also, you mentioned something earlier about a mystery. What mystery?” Gwyneth sighed in understanding before proceeding to respond to Rivera. “Trust me, I was actually just getting to that. I know this might seem unnecessary detailing these ancient cities and their peoples. But it’s important to understanding all the facts about the empire to help you make Comparisons.” “Comparisons?” Rivera asked, honestly confused on where Gwyneth was going with this. “Yes, comparisons. Because out of all the six cities of the Spire Star, out of all the lands of power and wonder that held up the empire, only one stood above them all. A city so beautiful and powerful that it rivaled the capitol of Arlende itself, one that was so breathtaking that many would consider it a symbol of pure flawlessness and absolute divinity, one many considered an absolute paradise untouched by the wickedness of Mab’s influence. It was, in all sense and purposes, the crowning achievement of the Fae Empire. Out of all the spires, none were more glorious… than the Silver Spire, Fata Morgana.” Gwyneth said in a tone and manner that was both filled with obvious pride, but also pity and grief, as if she was speaking of a cherished loved one who had long since passed away. “Fata Morgana? Is that-“ Rivera began to say before being interrupted by Gwyneth as she instantly responded. “Yes, that is what the painting is depicting. It was a utopian citadel that was built on the ocean’s surface, a few miles off the ocean shores. They say that when the sun would set, Fata Morgana would overlap it just as the moon would during an eclipse, and the city would shine and sparkle brightly like a perfect diamond, absolutely flawless. It was a city of wonder, peace, and creativity. Many of the finest art pieces and some of the most soothing hymns were created within its walls. Even the architecture of Fata Morgana were works of art, tall smooth towers from pure silver and magnificent spires from glistening crystal, all adorned with etchings with detailing of the finest gold and alabaster. Fountains and pools of pure crystal blue water were spread throughout the city, with hundreds of bridges and walkways constructed so one could view them from near and far, as they sparkled with starlight during the night hours. But Fata Morgana cherished nature just as much as it did its architectural beauty. Their parks glistening with the greenest dew coated grass and lush healthy trees that had bark as gray as marble and leaves that were a silvery green. On windy days, they would produce beautiful melodies like that of a wind chime. But no sight within Fata Morgana was more breathtaking and more glorious than the heart of the city, a massive, towering palace that could be seen even miles outside the city’s walls. They called it the Titania Spire.” “Wait, Titania? Like from //A Midsummer Night’s Dream//? Was that the name of the ruler? If I’m honest, I always assumed that Titania was…” Rivera asked as she interrupted Gwyneth for the second time. “What? That Titania was possibly the Inventor’s name?” She then laughed for a moment. “No of course not, don’t be silly. That’s just a common misconception that Shakespeare made when he did his own research on the Fae Empire and wrote that play, not knowing that the Inventor lost her name and assumed that it was Titania. However, there was a figure named Titania that existed in the past before the empire, but she wasn’t a queen. She was described as a very magically gifted and benevolent motherly figure in legend. She was very beloved by all and helped perform many miracles for her people. Though she wasn’t a queen, some theorized she may have possibly been an ancestor to Mab and the Inventor, but that’s just speculation. Fata Morgana supposedly named the palace after her, because much like she was, the people of Fata Morgana were capable of many incredible things.” “And who were the people of Fata Morgana? I assume much like the other five cities; the inhabitants were a sub-breed of Fae.” Rivera asked, as she began to start writing down this information for future investigations and research. “//Sidhe Leanan Hesperides//, better known as… The Changelings or Otherkin. Much like how their home was seen as the most glorious city of the empire, they were seen as the most beautiful of all Fae peoples. They looked almost practically identical to common Sidhe Fae, but their eyes were colorful instead of black and sparkled like gemstones. Their skin was also much healthier looking in color and had a slight blue glint to it, almost as if it were made of pure porcelain. Their hair could appear in any color imaginable, and always flowed like silk. But it was their wings that was their most beautiful trait. Large and vibrant, translucent and with a texture that made one think of the Northern lights. But above all, they were strong and flowed with mana. The minute you set foot within the walls of Fata Morgana, you would witness its citizens soaring in the air with grace and glamor, as they relished the feeling of the wind flowing through their hair and wings.” Gwyneth stops to look behind her at her own wings before continuing. “While us common Fae have lost the ability of flight long ago, if the changelings were still around, they might still have the ability.” “Still around huh? I’m guessing the end of Fata Morgana was even more devastating than the others during the fall, wasn’t it?” Rivera asked as she could tell that something bad happened to this city and its people. She began to feel great sympathy and would have loved to have met such incredible individuals for herself. “… I don’t know.” Gwyneth responded plainly. “…What? What do you mean you don’t know?” Rivera asked in honest confusion and surprise. “I mean, I don’t know! Hell, nobody knows what happened to it. No one knows if it survived the fall or if it was destroyed, it just… disappeared.” “Disappeared?” Rivera questioned. “Yes. While it’s not entirely clear what occurred, we have found tomes that give us clues to what may have occurred, although it’s mostly speculation that these tomes are little more than fairy tales, so it’s therefore up for debate whether the accounts are true or not. According to legends, on the morning of the day the Inventor clashed with Mab, leading to the empire’s downfall, a strange humming chime of sound rose far off the shore’s horizon where Fata Morgana stood. Very soon after, a mysterious glittering pink mist appeared and proceeded to engulf the city, completely hiding it within its shroud. When the mist finally dissipated, and the humming fell silent… Fata Morgana was gone. Vanished without a trace. One minute it was there, and the next…” She raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. “…nothing.” For minutes the room was silent. Rivera was gathering all the details in her head as she tried to form the big picture of everything that Gwyneth had just revealed to her. However, there were two questions in her mind that had yet to be answered. “I see now why you aren’t sure about the cities’ fate, but there are two things I’d like to know. If this city was so cherished and so influential to the Fae and the empire, then how come we at the Foundation haven’t found anything that hinted it ever existed? Also, there’s still this great mystery you claimed we might have solved.” Gwyneth didn’t speak for a moment, then she let out a deep breath, regained her composure, and put on her professional persona. “Well, there isn’t an exact answer to the first question. But I have a theory that might explain why no evidence of its existence has been found. To put it simply… my theory is that Mab is the reason.” “I see. While that wouldn’t be all that surprising, what makes you think it was because of her?” Rivera asked, now interested in hearing more about Gwyneth’s theory. “Well, I already said it earlier. While the other five cities still followed a feudalistic dictatorship influenced by Mab, and favored the aristocrats far above the poor and the Human and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1000 Yeren] slaves, Fata Morgana did not. Mab had no control over the city, because they followed the morals and ways of the Inventor. She protected the city from her sister and her cruelty towards the poor. They also had no traces of slavery. It was said that the Inventor and the ruler of Fata Morgana were incredibly close friends, and legend says the Inventor entrusted them to protect something she highly valued. Mab hated Fata Morgana and was jealous of the city. Because of the Inventor’s protection, as well as the respect of the rest of the empire, Mab could not destroy the city. Doing so would have likely escalated in a revolt against her, for even the aristocrats and Mabbites valued Fata Morgana.” “So, what did she do if she couldn’t even touch the city?” “Well, in one of those same tomes that described its disappearance, it was mentioned that it was incredibly foolish to bring a memento of Fata Morgana outside of its walls, for the mad twin would bring down her wrath upon them if caught in the act. So, I believe that Mab chose to separate or isolate Fata Morgana from the rest of the empire to the point that not only did she destroy the marble bridge leading to its gates, and likely imprisoning the Changelings within their own homes, but she would also severely punish anyone with either imprisonment or death just for bringing anything out of its walls. Anything that was already outside of the city before Fata Morgana’s exile was either forcibly returned or destroyed. So, anything that was of Fata Morgana origin disappeared along with the city. That’s where the mystery comes in!” Gwyneth stated with a sense of encouragement. “And the mystery is…?” Rivera cut herself off, suggesting that Gwyneth finish the sentence.” “Whether Fata Morgana ever even existed!” Gwyneth exclaimed. “We know that the other five existed because not only do we have evidence such as artifacts and ruins, but the other Fae races do exist as they are still around to this day, even though they’re not as common as Sidhe Fae. A number of the Fae citizens here in Esterberg are one of the other races, like Susan Ilifir who’s a Dryad that owns a flower shop, or Bishop Adasatra who’s a Pixie glassblower. Fata Morgana on the other hand… There’s nothing. No ruins, no relics, not even the Changelings! Nothing has ever been found to confirm that Fata Morgana was real, because of that most today believe it to be nothing more than an old legend, a mere myth.” Gwyneth said before letting out a sad sigh. “[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-faerie-tale-of-twin-queens I think I even mentioned it once in a story I did a lecture on.]” “But do you believe it existed?” Rivera asked, sensing Gwyneth’s ambiguity about Fata Morgana. “Well, I always had hope that it was real, or at least something like it. But, over time I started to have my doubts and was considering maybe it was just an old made up story” Then she looked back up to Rivera as her expression changed from that of gloominess to satisfaction. “…But that has all changed thanks to you and the Foundation!” She then grabbed the painting photos and brought them towards Rivera. “Because you found this! This painting here, one that you claimed was found within the royal treasure repository, is proof that Fata Morgana indeed existed! The Silver Spire was real, and the Changelings were a real people!” Gwyneth said to Rivera feeling satisfied and delighted to know that an old mystery was just solved, before she came to a realization and sat back in the chair. “Of course, that only leaves one mystery unsolved.” Rivera could instantly tell what Gwyneth was thinking, as she too had the same question on her mind. “…Where did they go?” //Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.// They were interrupted from their thoughts by a buzzing sound. Judging from the vibration that Rivera felt within her pocket, it was her own phone. Realizing this, she stood up from her chair while pulling the device from her pocket. “Sorry, would you give me a minute? This might be important?” Rivera asked Gwyneth as she moved away to speak privately. “No, go ahead, I don’t mind. Work is important after all.” Satisfied with Gwyneth’s response, Rivera immediately answered. “Hello?” “Jessie, it’s Chris. Have you gotten any information regarding the painting yet?” “Yeah, I definitely got a lot of information regarding the location depicted in the painting, among other things. It’s called Fata Morgana, an ancient lost state of the Fae Empire. Why?” “Because we might already have a lead on this place!” “What? What do you mean and how?” “Two reasons. First is that we didn’t look at the painting hard enough. While being examined, the research team found an envelope hidden on the back under the frame. It had a message in ancient Fae that I feel you should know about.” Halloran said excitedly through the phone. “Well… What did it say?!” “It said //If great time has passed by the time this note be read, heed these words so that my people can reunite with its missing thread. Let the melody flow before the fading sun and the sparkling shore, and the world will see the white towers shine once more//. But there’s more, on the back of the note is a bunch of musical notes for a song. I think you can already guess where this is going?” Rivera eyes widened in shock as she immediately put two and two together. The note was telling them how they could bring back Fata Morgana. “Did you already inform Daniel about this?” Rivera asked as she paced back and forth, immediately understanding the seriousness of what was occurring. “Oh I just talked to him before calling you, in fact that’s where the second reason comes in. You won’t believe this, but it turns out… the Foundation already found this Fata Morgana!” Rivera stopped pacing as she took a few seconds to register what Halloran just stated to her. “…What?!” “I’m not making this shit up, they did! [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3903 SCP-3903], some sort of extradimensional city that at times partially manifests in baseline reality some distance off a beach shore, but only under certain circumstances. They discovered it a few years ago, and have been keeping track of it ever since. However, while they did have their suspicions, the O5 didn’t know it was truly of Fae origin because we could never get inside the city… At least no one from the Foundation that is.” Halloran’s last words caught Rivera’s curiosity as it sounded suspicious yet important. “What do you mean no one from the Foundation?” “Well, apparently the city will appear before the sun disappears off the horizon to specific people that were dubbed 3903-A. These are humans who claim to believe they may not be spiritually human, saying that they believe themselves to have been some form of Faerie in another life, dubbing themselves Otherkins.” “…Otherkins?” Rivera looked towards Gwyneth with a look of complete shock as she recognized that term from their earlier conversation. “Look, once Asheworth sent them the picture of the painting, they immediately noticed the similarities and demanded we get more information. He already informed them about the note we found. Once we get the data from you, they’ll possibility authorize an attempt for Site-120 to try and make contact with the city first thing tomorrow. But I honestly have my doubts it will work. I mean they won’t open the doors for humans unless they’re an 3903-A instance, so how do we convince them to let us in?” Rivera could understand where Chris was going with this. From what the Foundation could tell and from what she was able to gather so far, it appeared that the city won’t just allow ordinary humans to enter its walls. Maybe they don’t believe we can be trusted, or they have specific rules when it comes to gaining entry. Suddenly Rivera had an idea. Maybe if they brought a Fae with them, it would show them they could trust the Foundation, maybe they’d allow entry. Luckily Rivera already knew someone who knew she and Site-120 were trustworthy, and she was in the same room as her. “Would you hold for a second?” She then put Halloran on hold as she then turned back and walked over to Gwyneth. “Olivié, I’m going to need your help. I think we already found your lost city, and I need you to be a voice of reason and persuade them to let us in. I can’t think of anyone else who I can count on for this. Can I count on you?” Gwyneth once again stood frozen in place staring at Rivera, as she contemplated what she had just heard. …Then she immediately bolted out of her chair and headed back downstairs. “I’LL GET MY EXPEDITION GEAR!” Rivera couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s sudden excitement and enthusiasm. Knowing that Gwyneth was all in on the idea, she turned back to the phone and continued speaking to Halloran. “Inform the O5 that we’re bringing along Olivié Gwyneth to act as an ambassador of Esterberg, and as a means of gaining trust with the inhabitants of Fata Morgana.” “Ok, I’ll tell them you’re bringing her along. But I don’t think that’ll be enough. Sure, she’s a Fae just like them, but I don’t think just one Fae friend of yours is going to be enough to convince them to let us in their doors. We need someone much more powerful who can persuade them to reason, and it would have to be someone they are familiar with. However, if this city is as old as I think it is, then it would have to be someone or something that has been around during, or even before, the Fae Empire! Where the hell could we possibly find such an entity?!” Rivera thought it over and admitted Chris had a good point, it’s going to take a lot more than just one Fae to convince them to let them in their home. It would have to be someone who not only knows Site-120 and the Foundation as a whole can be trusted, but someone who knows more about the Fae and ancient history than anyone else, someone they would be familiar with and respected. Then it clicked as Rivera smiled, for she remembered they already knew such an individual, who also had experience with negotiations and all kinds of thaumaturgy. “I think I know who would fit that role.” [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/four-knights-tango/logosmall.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ 21st of March [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]Brzezno Beach: Gdańsk, Poland[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- Standing on the beautiful, expansive shores of Brzezno Beach, Daniel Asheworth and Chris Halloran were watching the lovely sunset, as they waited for Jessie Rivera and her companions to arrive. Unfortunately, Halloran’s patience and assurance were starting to weaken. “Are you sure this is the right place, and you’re positive there’s no chance of possible witnesses?” Halloran asked Asheworth, as he continuously tapped his foot in the sand. “I’m positive. We chose this beach carefully. It’s large, has a great view, and it’s the closest one to Site-120 and Częstochowa. As for witnesses, the beach is vacant at this time, and we have numerous MTFs on watch duty to ensure no college freshmen try to throw any late-night parties. We also brought some thaumaturgists Pataphysicists to whip up some narrative spells along the coasts to make people oblivious to whatever happens, a little extra precaution.” Daniel replied as he continued to watch and admire the sunset. “Well, that’s good to hear. But I was referring to the fact that Dr. Rivera isn’t here yet. What’s taking her so long? If she doesn’t make it in time, we’ll miss the mark!” Halloran said as he began to tap his foot faster. “She had to pick up our two representatives for this exploration. One of them lives in the Ural Mountains, so it’s understandable it will take her longer to get here.” “Wait, the Ural Mountains? What kind of person would live in th--“ Halloran began to say before he was interrupted by the sound of a helicopter in the distance. They both turned to see a Foundation chopper approaching the shore. “See? Made it just in time.” Asheworth said as the helicopter began descending towards the beach. Once the helicopter landed, Asheworth and Halloran approached it as the sliding doors were being opened. Out came Jessie Rivera and Olivié Gwyneth, the latter had a huge smile on her face, as she was hauling an expedition backpack and carrying an HD video camera. “There you are Jessie, you made it with several minutes to spare. I have to say though, you sure took your time.” Asheworth said to Rivera as she brushed her hair out of her face from the helicopter blades picking up wind. “Yeah, sorry about that. Olivié was really excited for this and did several last minute bag inspections.” “Hey, can you blame me? I’m about to become a witness to the rediscovery of one of the greatest citadels of the Fae Empire! Of course I’m excited!” Gwyneth said, as she started slightly bouncing in place from the adrenaline. “Hey, I’m just as excited too. I was starting to worry that you weren’t going to make it. So, where’s this other guest that you took so long to pick up?” Halloran said to Gwyneth before speaking to Rivera. “I believe that would be me.” The groups attention was brought towards the helicopter as two other individuals began exiting, both of them reptilian in appearance with large leather wings on their backs. One was crimson with long white hair wearing royal looking robes and jewelry, while the other was a dark brownish gray wearing golden knight styled armor and carried what resembled a platinum colored double bladed lance with gold detailing. Unlike Halloran and Gwyneth, Asheworth and Rivera were quite familiar with the two entities. “King Ragna, It’s been a while. How are things going with Arcadia?” Asheworth said as he walked up to greet the Droganian monarch with a handshake. “Asheworth, it is good to see you again. It’s never been better thanks to your Foundation, I sometimes barely recognize it with all it’s modern accommodations and advancements. However, I would like to apologize for the delay. We needed to have a discussion with the rest of the Dragoon’s Circle about allowing me to accompany you on this investigation. They eventually agreed as long as Captain Agron accompanied me as protection.” King Ragna said greeting back with a courteous bow before presenting his armies’ commander. “Apologies from me as well, Asheworth, but we didn’t want to take risks with this Fata Morgana, considering what my league shared with me of what you’ve informed him. If this city really was part of the Fae Empire, I feel it’s better that I accompany him.” Captain Agron said as he stood by his king’s side. “It’s not a problem, we completely understand. However, we still believe you accompanying us would do more good than harm.” Rivera reassured the two Droganians as she moved to stand next to Asheworth. King Ragna responded with a courteous nod before his attention shifted toward Gwyneth and Halloran. “Ah, these must be your two other companions, I am humbled to make your acquaintance. I am the Vajra King Ragna Von Morrowind, head of the Dragoon’s Circle and ruler of the Droganian city of Arcadia.” King Ragna greeted them both with a bow while his hand was on his heart. “Um… Chris Halloran, it’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” Halloran responded awkwardly, not expecting this type of company. While Halloran heard some background about the Droganians, he wasn’t that familiar with them in comparison to the Fae, despite knowing the history between the two races. Gwyneth’s greeting and demeanor however was much more enthusiastic and friendly than Halloran’s. “I’m Olivié Gwyneth, Fae historian and the head archivist of the Sidhe Lounge. It is an honor and pleasure to meet you and your captain your highness! Gwyneth exclaimed as she enthusiastically shook his hand. She suddenly came to her senses and stopped as her face turned red from embarrassment. “I’m… I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to be so forward. It’s just that meeting you is so exciting. My grandmother used to tell me stories about your ancestors when I was little.” “No need to apologise, I’m actually quite flattered at your enthusiasm.” King Ragna assured her that it was nothing to worry about. “If I may interrupt, how exactly are you going to help us get into the city? Which, may I remind you we need to hurry and summon quickly while the sun is still up!” Halloran said, as he was getting anxious from wasting time. “Relax Chris, we still have time. But to answer your question, the Droganians’ predecessors, the Sky Keepers, were wise and powerful dragons who helped many sapient races to thrive and build civilizations in the ancient past, including the Fae. So if the Fae of Fata Morgana see that we have two dragons accompanying us, they’ll let us in for sure.” Asheworth informed Chris, who then calmed down. “But you’re right, we should get started.” “Agreed. Do you guys have the notes to perform the summoning?” Rivera asked as Gwyneth started filming in anticipation of the arrival of the city. “Yeah, we made a copy of it to bring along. But that begs the question, how do we play it? It’s a music sheet, and I’m going to guess whistling won’t work.” Chris asked, as he pulled out the folded copy he had in his pocket. “No need to worry, I have it covered.” King Ragna said as he pulled something out of the folds of his robe. A regal jewel encrusted wind instrument that resembled a pan flute. “While I do put my royal responsibilities as a leader first, I do often like to dabble in the art of hymns in my spare time. Now, the note if you please?” Halloran walked over and held up the music sheet for King Ragna, he memorized the notes for a minute before bringing the flute to his lips. He took a quick deep breath, and began playing. [[div style="text-align: center;"]] — //Silver towers, so grand and majestic Stars so bright and pure Home to dreams and beauty and grace One of love and peace Just like a mother's gentle touch One can feel the cities warm embrace.// — [[/div]] [[size 75%]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:audio-player-woed-source">:scp-wiki:component:audio-player-woed-source</a> \|unique-name=Morgana's Lullaby \|audio-file=http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Silver%20Tower%20Melody.mp3 \|background-color=rgb(252, 252, 252) \|border-color=rgb(214, 214, 214) \|border-radius=0.313rem \|dropshadow-color=rgba(12, 12, 12, 0.15) \|text-color=rgb(51, 51, 51) \|icons-color=rgb(230, 40, 60) \|player-color=rgb(215, 215, 215) \|progress-color=rgb(230, 40, 60) ]] [[/size]] The group was mesmerized as they watched the king’s flute performance. It actually proved to be quite enjoyable. When his performance concluded, they all turned their attention toward the beach and waited for the effects of the song to occur. … … … … … Yet nothing appeared. “…Is something supposed to happen?” King Ragna questioned the others, just as confused at the inactivity. “I-I don’t get it; this should have worked! The note clearly said if we played the music on a beach before the sun fully set, Fata Morgana should appear! So where is it?!” Halloran said, feeling confused and aggravated. “Maybe we missed a step?” Rivera asked, thinking that maybe they overlooked some sort of detail. “No that can’t be it, there was nothing else on that note but the message and the music sheet. We even checked every corner and crevice of the painting and--“ Halloran began to rant before he was suddenly interrupted by Gwyneth, who unlike the others kept her focus on the horizon. “Wait a minute!” “Look, Olivié, I know this seems to be going bad but--“ Rivera tried to assure Gwyneth, feeling that she might be feeling disappointed that nothing happened. However, Gwyneth interrupted her as she glanced around, wide eyed. “No guys seriously, shh! Everyone be quiet!” Gwyneth shouted, as she held her hand up, commanding everyone to listen to her. “What’s wrong?” Asheworth questioned. “Listen… Don’t you hear that?” Everyone stood absolutely silent as they listened to their surroundings. Suddenly they all began to hear something, a very faint sound that was almost unnoticeable, a slight humming noise that seemed to be very slowly growing in volume. But then they all began to feel a faint strange sensation around them. There was a growing pulsation in the air. They felt the air around them begin to vibrate as if reality itself was bending and reforming, like a small pond rippling with sudden small waves. “…I’m not the only one who feels that, right?” Halloran asked, feeling overwhelmed. “I know this feeling… dimensional fluctuation.” King Ragna spoke out, recognizing the feeling of space and reality being manipulated. “I don’t like this.” Captain Agron said as he got into a defensive position, pointing his lance forward and guarding King Ragna. Suddenly, an audible beeping noise began to rise. Everyone wondered where the beeping was emanating from, until Asheworth came to a realization and pulled something from his jacket pocket. His EESPR was the source of the noise. He had it in standby mode and it must’ve detected EVE readings and reactivated. Sure enough, it was picking up high levels of EVE radiation coming from way off the shores. That’s when he noticed a shimmer forming in front of the sun. “Guys, you might want to look at this.” He said to the others, as he pointed towards the sea. Everyone now took notice of the vastly growing shimmering aura and energy that was forming out on the ocean. It grew and rippled as it began to take form, like a desert mirage. The strange noise also began to change, as it shifted from a soft humming to a melodic chorus of hymns. The sound they heard could best be compared to an angelic choir singing in harmony. It wasn’t long before the light of the aura began to softly fade, and as it did, structures began to become more visible. Gleaming white and golden buildings, silver towers, and expansive bridges could be seen. But the most amazing sight of all of was the massive palace-like structure in the center, one that towered over all the other buildings and loomed over all its surroundings like a guardian angel. Fata Morgana, the Silver Spire of the Fae Empire… had returned. “By Bahamut’s scales…” Captain Agron said in absolute shock and amazement, as he lowered his spear while continuing to stare at the incredible sight before him “Fata Morgana…” Asheworth said, just as hypnotized by the sight. Everyone was absolutely overwhelmed as they admired the sight lying before them. The glistening lights coming from the many buildings within the city, the angelic and beautifully crafted architecture, and the omnipresent white glow that surrounded it all… It had to be the most beautiful and divine sight that any of them have ever seen. “Ooh… It-it’s so beautiful.” Rivera said as she came out of her stunned trance. “…It’s enough to make a grow man cry.” Halloran said, as his eyes began to water, overwhelmed by the stunning city. Then he suddenly shook his head as he came to, before wiping away the tears and trying to act calm. “N-not that I was crying or anything!” But it became clear someone was crying as they heard the sound of sniffling and quick breathing. It became clear that Gwyneth was the culprit as she continued to film the sight before her, her eyes becoming red as they dripped with tears. Seeing this Rivera immediately went over to comfort her friend. “Olivié, are you okay?” Gwyneth remained silent for several seconds before finally responding. “I’m more than okay. I’m overwhelmed with joy!” She said as her expression shifted to that of absolute glee, as she continued crying tears of joy. “It’s real. The legends were true! Fata Morgana IS REAL, and it’s even more beautiful than I ever imagined!” As she began to regain her composure, she exclaimed. “We have to get in there!” with pure excitement. “I agree with the young lady. I think it’s time we see this metropolis from the inside!” King Ragna said as he was just as excited to visit the city. “Well then, what the hell are we just standing around for?! Everyone into the… Chopper?” Halloran began instructing the others, before something in front of them suddenly caught his attention. Just in front of them, a large flat spherical disk manifested on the beach. It was shiny and reflective, it looked as if it were composed of pure silver. Suddenly, another disk appeared behind the first one, then another disk after that one, and then another, and another, and another. The disks continued to manifest out of thin air, aligning vertically in front of each one another towards the city. It was quickly clear to everyone what they were looking at. It was a bridge. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Fata%20Morgana%20Horizon.png style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ “Well… that’s convenient.” Rivera said as she got over the sudden surprise. “…Right, I forgot silver disks manifesting was mentioned in the 3903 document. But this wasn’t supposed to happen! They only form after a 3903-A throws a skipping stone, and they never straight up manifested into a bridge before!” Halloran said as he moved up to one of the disks then knelt to get a closer look. “Who cares! We have a bridge so let’s take it. Besides you can ask them when we’re inside!” Gwyneth said as she immediately hopped onto the first disk, startling Halloran who ended up falling face first on the silvery surface. Gwyneth then proceeded to cross the bridge, overwhelmed by excitement and this golden opportunity. “Olivié, wait!” Rivera shouted as she began to follow Gwyneth, attempting to catch up with her. “Well then, let us not let the young Fae lady wait any longer. Let us move forward, come Agron!” King Ragna said to the rest of the party as he too began crossing the bridge with Captain Agron following right behind him. Halloran then got up and rubbed his forehead, annoyed that Gwyneth surprised him and made him hit his head. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think we should follow the others. I’m honestly just as curious to find out what we’ll see.” Asheworth said as he helped up Halloran. “Yeah, you’re right, no more waiting” Halloran said as the two of them proceeded to catch up with the others on the bridge. For almost 30 minutes, they continued walking forward as the city got closer and closer, while the shore grew further and further in the distance. Things were calm and peaceful as they made their way across the bridge. As they did so, each of them couldn’t help but wonder what would be waiting for them. During their walk, Asheworth wondered what kind of rich sources of thaumaturgical knowledge they would uncover. Considering the feeling of reality warping and the EVE readings that were detected, he suspected that Fata Morgana seemed to be outside of baseline reality. This made him beg the question however, why and how did it happen? Was there some sort of major anomalous event that separated it from baseline reality, or was Fata Morgana always like this? It couldn’t help but remind him of Esterberg, a nexus that was both full of magic, and home to many Fae. Maybe Fata Morgana was always a nexus? Well, he hoped to soon find out the answers. Rivera, on the other hand, was more interested in the culture and lifestyle of the city. At first, she expected the city to appear deserted and in ruins, but the sight before her told her the exact opposite. She also recalled the information Halloran told her about the 3903-A instances that claimed to be reborn Fae, how the city appeared to them, and how a number of them had apparently entered its walls. Taking all those details into consideration, there was no doubt in her mind there were people in the city. She just hoped that they were peaceful. Halloran was thinking about the vast history and artifacts which could be uncovered. If this city really did exist back during the Fae Empire, then surely they must have history books overflowing with knowledge of the past. He could already image the quality and quantity of artifacts they’d get to glimpse, judging by the size of the city and its architecture. One thing was for certain, he had his fingers crossed for the chance that they had a museum. King Ragna was curious about what kind of government this city followed, and who lead it. He recalled during their meeting with the Dragoon’s Circle, that Rivera informed them Fata Morgana did not follow Mab’s ways. If that was true, he hoped that his people and theirs would come to an agreement and form an alliance or beneficial relationship. If these people did follow The Inventor’s teachings, and if the ancient stories regarding the noble Avalus were true, then surely they would want to make up for the atrocities committed on his ancestors because of Mab. Gwyneth, on the other hand, she wanted to know everything. She shared the same curiosities as the others, but she yearned to learn everything from their traditions, technology, laws, economy, politics, artworks, literature, and more. She was so excited she was even noting down a list of questions as they were walking. Normally she wouldn’t be so giddy and enthusiastic, but who wouldn’t be when they had the opportunity to study a surviving remnant of one of the most powerful empires in all of ancient history. It wasn’t long before their walk finally came to an end. They found themselves standing in front of a massive pair of highly decorated golden double doors. Each half made up the effigy of a crowned Fae woman with six wings, and had light blue gems in place of eyes. They could also see that the city was surrounded by a large white wall, with watchtowers located every forty feet. “Ok, am I the only one who feels like they’re standing at the gates of Heaven?” Halloran asked everyone as he stood staring at the massive gate in awe. “I mean, it is a heavenly sight.” Rivera replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Marvelous, quite fine craftsmanship! This reminds me a lot of the Arcadian gates.” King Ragna said as he walked up and slid his hands on the doors, admiring the fine carvings and smooth polishing of the metal. Suddenly, Captain Agron jolted as if he felt a presence. He then looked up before quickly dashing toward King Ragna “GET BACK MY LIEGE!” He grabbed King Ragna by his shoulder guard before pulling him away from the gate back towards the others. “Calm yourself Agron! I was just admiring the--“ King Ragna tried to assure Captain Agron that there was nothing to fear. Until he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a figure standing before them. “Oh, I see.” Standing in front of them was a woman in an elegant armor made of a silver metal with a violet tint. She carried some form of khopesh staff or a war scythe with a crescent moon shaped blade head. The armor was not bulky but light and slim in design, as it hugged her figure perfectly. It seemed designed for quick and acrobatic movement. She wore a helmet with a violet visor made from what appeared to be glass or some form of crystal. There were no gauntlets for the hands, leaving them bare, and strangely she wore no footwear. With the exception of what resembled white silk stirrups, she was practically barefoot. Even with the armor, it was easy to recognize what this woman was, she was a Fae. However, she had many characteristics that differed her from a common Fae like Gwyneth. She had the same elegant pale skin, but it appeared much healthier in color and saturation. It had a blue hue and tint, as well as a visible shine to it. Her eyes were just as big and shiny, but they were a bright green instead of pure black. Her hair was a dandelion yellow and hung in a ponytail poking out of the back of the helmet. But it was her wings that were the most unusual. They were immense, with an ethereal glow to them. They were pearly white, with a rainbow of colors visibly shifting continuously in a spectral pattern. This made the wings resemble an aurora borealis. But the most shocking part, more specifically for Gwyneth, was that her wings were fluttering gently, and she was hovering just above the ground. “The hell?! Where did she come from?!” Halloran shouted in shock at the armored Fae’s arrival. They would soon be answered as, from above, more armored Fae, both male and female, came down from atop of the white wall. All of them either soaring down on their wings or slowing their fall by fluttering them until they landed softly. All of them were in the same armored attire and carried weapons, some a form of blade and others that resembled… guns? They also all had the same physical characteristics as the female. Shiny pale skin, colorful shiny eyes, vibrant colored hair, and large shimmering wings capable of flight. Everyone was on edge by the arrival of the armed guards. Captain Agron moved in front of King Ragna and stood defensively. Gwyneth however, continued to stare at them in shock, amazement and familiarity. Having studied and read all about the legends of Fata Morgana, she immediately recognized the Fae in front of them. “Changelings…” She immediately jumped in between both parties and held both her hands up at the stranger signaling them to stop. This seemed to be working, as they recognized her as a fellow Fae. Their tensions lowered a bit. “Olivié, what are you doing?!” Rivera questioned, as she became concerned for her friend’s safety. “Just let me try and talk to them, I think they’re just being cautious. Please, let me try.” Gwyneth assured the others that she knew what she was doing, and to give her a chance. “Miss, please. It might be too dangerous, we don’t--“ Captain Agron tried to persuade Gwyneth not to interact as he still had his doubts. But then King Ragna put his hand on Agron’s shoulder and looked at him with a calm and commanding demeanor. “No, let her speak. I trust her judgement.” “But my liege--“ “Stand down!” King Ragna commanded Captain Agron, with a stern commanding voice, who after several seconds complied and lowered his weapon. Nodding her head in appreciation for trusting her, Gwyneth then slowly approached the guards. She cleared her throat a little before she began to speak to them in ancient Fae. “(Do not worry, we are not here to cause any trouble. Please, let me explain.)” The guards were surprised at the sound of Gwyneth speaking ancient Fae. They began whispering to one another, all except for the female guard with the dandelion hair who raised her hand to silence them. She then pressed a sigil on the side of her helmet and the violet visor dematerialized, fully revealing her bright neon green eyes. Despite her intimidating expression, the look in her eyes showed she was just as surprised as the other guards. She then began speaking back to Gwyneth, also in Fae, with what resembled a Brazilian accent. “(…You speak our ancestral language? I was under the impression that most had forgotten in favor of the many human languages.)” “(Yes, most if not all other Fae speak in the modern languages created by humans, although there are still many others who speak modern Fae or our ancestral language. You and your squad… you are Changelings, aren’t you? Sidhe Leanan Hesperides?)” Gwyneth responded back as she was now standing face to face with the guard. “(Indeed, but I am surprised that you also know of our genetic lineage. Most usually refer to us as Changelings, or simply as Fae.)” The guard responded as she was becoming more comfortable with Gwyneth and was also becoming more curious about her. “(That’s because I am a historian. My name is Olivié Gwyneth. I study the history and culture of the ancient Fae Empire, including its myths and its peoples. Such as what is described in this tome.)” Gwyneth said as she pulled out the same tome about the Spire Star from her backpack before she showed it to the guard, whose eyes widened in recognition at the illustration shown to her. “(The Spire Star, the six cities…)” She was then silent for a few seconds before she looked at Gwyneth. (Was it you who played Morgana’s Lullaby?)” “(Well, not me exactly.)” Gwyneth then turned towards the others before looking back at the guard “(So this really is Fata Morgana?)” The Guard simply responded with a soft nod as her demeanor became softer and more welcoming. Halloran then decided to approach and help, by explaining what’s going on. “Um… (“Pardon me for interrupting, but I feel I should--)” The female guard however interrupted him by speaking to them… in English. A huge surprise to Halloran and the others. “It is not required to speak in our native tongue, we are quite familiar with the languages of these modern times.” “Ooh… Well, that’s quite convenient.” Halloran said as he wiped his forehead while quietly muttering to himself. “Thank god.” He then shifted back to a more professional demeanor. “…As I was saying, would you mind explaining why you tried to attack us?” “My apologies. However, we were not trying to attack you. We were merely being cautious as we were unsure if you were friend or foe.” she said, before placing her right hand on her left breast plate. “I am Artoria Fernclove, Captain of the royal guards. Now, which one of you played Morgana’s Lullaby?” “That would be me, Captain Fernclove. I played the melody which summoned your magnificent citadel. However, it was young Asheworth and his companions who discovered the relic which revealed the melody to them.” King Ragna said as he approached, now standing beside Gwyneth. “And who might you be sir? Also, and pardon me for asking, but… what exactly are you? I don’t believe I am familiar with a creature such as yourself and your armored companion. However, judging by your attire, I assume you are some form of aristocrat or monarch.” Artoria questioned as she examined King Ragna with unfamiliarity. “You are indeed correct. My name is Ragna Von Morrowind, I am the Vajra King of the city of Arcadia. I am what is now known as a Droganian. However, I should let you know that your race has interacted with mine before, long before Fata Morgana or even the empire existed. Though we were much different in the past then we are now.” King Ragna introduced himself with a bow and his hand on his heart. This made Artoria and the other guards raise their eyebrows in confusion. “What? I am afraid that is impossible, for as far as I know, the only such reptilian creatures that we Fae have ever interacted with were the…” Artoria stopped suddenly as she came to a sudden realization, one that caused her eyes to widen with absolute shock. “…No. You… It-it can’t possibly be…” It seemed that her companions had the same realization as they wore the same shocked expression. “Maybe it would be better if I simply showed you.” He then looked over to Asheworth and the others “If you would be so kind as to give me some space.” They immediately knew what King Ragna was implying and they all backed away, as he did a little as well. Finally, King Ragna began to close his eyes as he built up thaumaturgical power, so much so that his hair and robes started flailing as if caught in strong wind. His entire body was then engulfed in a golden aura, which then began to morph into a new shape and grew much larger in size. Finally, after several seconds the aura diminished, revealing the king in his glorious dragon form. He was truly a sight to behold. A draig dragon with a muscular yet elegant figure. His body was completely covered in shiny, smooth, crimson scales. There were small white spot patterns dotted all along the legs, body, and tail, while golden stripes went across his neck. His underbelly was milky white and edged in gold. He had a long flowing white mane that narrowed along his neck and ended at the tip of his long tail. He had two large golden-brown horns that took an inner crescent shape and looked as smooth and polished as marble. Much like his humanoid form, he had blue eyes, and the leather folds of his wings were golden orange. His wings were strong and majestic. Even in his dragon form, he radiated the elegance and power of a king. Asheworth and Rivera were genuinely impressed by his appearance, as this was the first time they had ever seen King Ragna’s dragon form. Halloran and Gwyneth were just as impressed, as they stared at him wide eyed. However, Artoria and the guards had the strongest reactions, as they all loudly gasped with wide eyes, their faces showing absolute shock and disbelief. Some of them even dropped their weapons, letting them tumble onto the ground. Artoria, while barely audible, even whispered “Sky Keeper…” to herself. They all stared at the winged lord for several more seconds, before they all fell to their knees and bowed to him, as if he were a divine figure… Which he technically was to them. “Huh, looks like you made the right decision bringing him” Halloran said to Rivera, slightly amused by the guards bowing at King Ragna’s feet, both metaphorically and literally. “There is no need to show such admiration. I am indeed flattered by your respect, but it is not necessary. You may rise.” King Ragna said with a booming, yet gentle voice. He then was engulfed in the golden aura again as he reverted back to his humanoid form. “But yes, the Sky Keepers live on, stronger than ever thanks to the individuals before you” He then addressed Asheworth and Rivera, who couldn’t help but smile because of the respect. The guards all rose, and the ones who dropped their weapons retrieved them with a look of slight embarrassment. Artoria then slowly walked up to King Ragna, now looking at him with great respect. “…Why have you come here?” She asked. “Well, my companions wish to learn about your metropolis here and its people. They believe that whatever information you can provide them could be useful to them in protecting the world from forces that would seek to destroy it. They would also like to know of your city’s history and what led to its disappearance in the past. As for me, I was hoping of speaking with your leaders in negotiations, in the hopes that mine and your people could form a beneficial relationship, such as a partnership or an alliance. Is this acceptable? Much like my companions, I do also wish to see the inside of your beautiful home.” King Ragna informed Artoria as he looked up at the golden gates again. Artoria was surprised at first by this information, before she suddenly turned to her guards. “OPEN THE GATES!” The others immediately saluted back before they flew back up into the sky and over the wall. A few seconds later, the gates began opening, and light emerged through the open space between the two doors. Eventually they opened completely, allowing them all to see the inside of the city. It was even more glorious on the inside than on the outside. “Welcome, to the city of Fata Morgana! Come, her Grace would want to speak with you all immediately!” Artoria greeted them with a welcoming smile, as she took on a more excited demeanor and encouraged them all to follow her. “Yes ma’am! Oh, I have so many questions!” Gwyneth said, as she rushed to stand next to Artoria. The others immediately followed as they passed through the gates, finally getting a glimpse of the Fae utopia. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] [[span style="font-size: 200%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-spire-part-2 {Part 2}][[/span]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Name: Entrance_into_Dow_Cave_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1028631.jpg > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Entrance_into_Dow_Cave_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1028631.jpg Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: Painting.png > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Abraham_van_beijeren,_imbarcazioni_in_una_burrasca,_1645-50_ca.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 1] > [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Starry_sky_at_Mount_Rinjani,_Lombok_island.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 2] > Filename: The-Six-Cities.jpg > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/24029425@N06/4459357335 Flickr] > Filename: Silver Tower Melody.mp3 > Author: WarriorofChaos > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source: FL Studio 21 > Filename: Fata Morgana Horizon.png > License: Public Domain > Source Link:** [https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=81310539 Wikimedia Commons Image 1] > [https://www.flickr.com/photos/105106606@N05/43511551295 Flickr Image 1] > [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:View_of_Taj_mahal_on_a_great_dusky_evening.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 2] > [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taj_Mahal_in_India.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 3] > [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toronto_-_ON_-_Skyline10.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 4] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-06T20:53:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "children-of-the-night", "doctor-asheworth", "doctor-rivera", "esterberg", "fantasy", "from-120s-archives", "historical", "homo-sapiens-sidhe", "illustrated", "mystery", "olivie-gwyneth", "queen-mab", "tale" ]	The Lost Spire, Part 1 - SCP Foundation	13	[ "scp-7629", "the-enlightened-children", "finding-avalon", "esterberg-city-wikipedia", "scp-2952", "fae-myths-and-legends", "oneiroi", "scp-1000", "a-faerie-tale-of-twin-queens", "scp-3903", "the-lost-spire-part-2", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reimagined-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub" ]	[]	1447205595	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-spire-part-1
the-lost-spire-part-2	<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">; 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--</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 class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">WarriorofChaos</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>The Lost Spire (Part 2)</strong> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/warriorofchaos" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4246396); return false;"><img alt="WarriorofChaos" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4246396&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032355" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4246396)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/warriorofchaos" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4246396); return false;">WarriorofChaos</a></span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote" style="width: intrinsic; width: -moz-max-content; width: -webkit-max-content; text-align:center; margin: 10px auto;"> <p><strong><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSqttgJRud8" target="_blank">Recommended reading music</a></strong></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>2008</span></h1> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc1"><span>21st of March</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>Fata Morgana: The realm between Gaia's plain and the unknown beyond</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>The city of Fata Morgana.</p> <p>It was, without a doubt, the most incredible sight any of them had ever seen.</p> <p>Rivera was absolutely amazed by Fata Morgana’s design and personality. It looked exactly as Gwyneth described it. All of the buildings were constructed from silver and crystal, and had highly decorative trimmings and arches covered in gold and alabaster. Many tall towers and skyscrapers could be seen for miles. Now that she had a closer look at the buildings, she noticed the architectural style resembled Celtic designs with subtle traces of Indo-Islamic, yet it still retained the Fae architectural styling that she was familiar with.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>They also took notice of the many figures soaring high in the sky. Changelings of all ages, flying without a care, family and friends enjoying themselves in the air.</p> <p>“Marvelous, absolutely marvelous! A work of art in itself.” King Ragna exclaimed in delight, highly impressed and fascinated by the city’s design.</p> <p>“I said it once, and I’ll say it again… I feel like we’re at the gates of Heaven.” Halloran said as he took in the sights before him. “I definitely need to document all this!” He exclaimed, before he pulled out his digital camera and began taking multiple photographs of his surroundings.</p> <p>They managed to catch up to Artoria and Gwyneth, as Artoria was currently giving orders to her squad, who then saluted her before soaring off in the direction of the colossal palace in the distance. She then turned to them before speaking.</p> <p>“I’ve sent my squad to inform our queen of your arrival. She had a strong feeling that the lullaby was played, and is currently awaiting my return.”</p> <p>“We understand. I’m sure she has a lot to talk about with us, just as we do with her.” Asheworth replied as he continued to look around, basking in his surroundings.</p> <p>“Indeed. Until then, I will guide you and allow you to view the many sights of our homeland. I’ll also answer any questions that I can. However, some of them I humbly request you save for her grace to answer.” Artoria replied with a nod.</p> <p>“Great, because I have a ton of questions I’d like answered. Would you mind if I also interview you on the way there?” Gwyneth asked as she held her video camera in Artoria’s direction.</p> <p>“As long as I can answer them, it wouldn’t be a problem for me. Now then, let us be on our way.”</p> <p>They all continued to follow Artoria as they passed many massive buildings, along with a few smaller settlements. Halloran continued to take many photos as they followed. Aside from the architecture, he noticed the attire of the citizens. They were all dressed in lovely sparkling reflective clothing made of a silky material, mainly white with traces of other colors. The males wore long-sleeved waist high tunics with a high collar, and ankle length pants, some also wore a long sash over their tunic. The females were garbed in gossamer long bell-sleeved dresses, some were knee length, and some were floor length and they dragged along the ground. One noticeable feature was that no one wore any footwear, A few wore ankle length silk stirrups, but the rest were completely barefoot.</p> <p>Normally Halloran wouldn’t question cultural fashion sense, but he couldn’t help but be curious. So, he went up to Artoria for answers.</p> <p>“Say, I’ve got a question for you. Now this might seem random, but why don’t any of you wear shoes?”</p> <p>Artoria gave him a confused look before she looked down to their feet then back to him.</p> <p>“This? It is simply our custom to be unshod. It represents how we wish to live in harmony and equality with nature and progress, as well as embracing both peace and purity.”</p> <p>“Speaking of customs, it was stated that Fata Morgana followed the ways of The Inventor and was therefore free of the corruptive influence of Mab. Is this true?” Gwyneth asked as she continued recording.</p> <p>“It is indeed true. The Inventor herself was the one who orchestrated the construction of Fata Morgana, intended to be a sanctuary of peace and equality, a metropolis that was clean and untouched by The Undoer’s wicked ideals. This is why we bowed to her, because it was her will that breathed life into the city.” Artoria answered, as she spoke with great reverence.</p> <p>“So your city was, in a sense, independent from the rest of the empire?” Captain Agron asked, as he joined in asking questions of Artoria.</p> <p>“It was somewhat, in the beginning, but we still had support from both the common peoples and the wealthy. But it eventually became fully independent, for out of spite and jealousy, Mab chose to separate the city from the rest of the empire, and isolated us within as a sign of defiance against those who would question or defy her ways. She hated Fata Morgana just as much as she hated her sister, and so did not accept it as part of her kingdom, even though everyone else did.” Artoria answered, as she spoke with great disdain.</p> <p>Gwyneth seemed greatly pleased by the answer, as she laughed, and fist pumped her free hand.</p> <p>“Yes, I was right! That must mean the same thing also applied to anything that came from the city, yes?”</p> <p>“Indeed. We had to reclaim everything that was created within Fata Morgana, because we knew Mab would most likely destroy them just to spite her sister. It’s very likely she succeeded in destroying some items, but we often made duplicates to ensure such works didn’t end up lost to time. All of the art pieces, literary works, and songs that we’ve ever created now resides within our many museums and music halls.” Artoria responded, in a tone that implied she was feeling disappointment. “It is truly a shame, all of these wonders we have created, and nobody in the outside world remembers them.”</p> <p>“Hold on a second. You said <em>all</em> of your artifacts were reclaimed, but we found a painting of Fata Morgana in the ruins of the empire’s royal repository. Not only that, but it had a note that told us how to summon the city. Why would that painting be in there if everything you created was taken back, and why would it have that note? What happened to this place in the past?” Asheworth asked Artoria, as he felt there were some things that didn’t make sense or hadn’t yet been answered.</p> <p>“I’ve been meaning to ask that as well. Legends said that Fata Morgana suddenly disappeared on the day the two queens fought. Completely vanished. Why?” Rivera asked, as eager for the answers as Asheworth was.</p> <p>Artoria was silent for a few seconds, as she looked down at the ground with a somber expression.</p> <p>“…I believe it would be better for our queen to answer those questions.” She held her somber expression for a few moments, before it shifted to a more pleasant one. “But enough questions of the past, let’s focus on questions of the present. Also take time to bask in your surroundings.”</p> <p>They then reached an interchange of bridge walkways, all over a large lake filled with glistening water, its channels breaking off into deeper parts of the city. Many Changelings were looking over the railways enjoying the view, while some were flying over the water. Suddenly, on the right edge of the lake, jets of water shot up in the air from several areas of the lake. One male Changeling got his face soaked as a fountain erupted right below him. His female companion laughed loudly.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>What caught the group’s attention the most was on the left side of the lake. Several Changelings were riding small boats on the water, both individually and in groups. The boats had a regal and fantastical design, resembling a medieval or 16th century sailboat. However, the boats appeared advanced in as much as they were outfitted with outboard engines of some sorts, and the sails seemed to be only decorative as they were made of some form of penetrable hard light.</p> <p>“Are those motorboats?” Rivera asked.</p> <p>They then heard humming from above. When they looked up, they saw a trio of aircrafts flying above the buildings, all very advance in design and varying in shape and size. One was vivid white and covered in golden decals. The body was a teardrop shape with four wings, two large wings in the front and two smaller ones in the back. Another looked like a platinum colored helicopter, but instead of blades, it had four long wings similar to a jet plane in an X formation. The last one resembled something straight out of a space fighter science fiction film. A purple vertical pill shaped body with two curved tear shaped front arms, and two back legs in the shape of medieval shields.</p> <p>“Air vehicles?” Halloran questioned with surprise.</p> <p>They then focused to Artoria’s crescent staff. Now that they had a closer view of it, not only was it highly detailed with engravings and embedded jewels, but they also noticed the channels flowing with thaumaturgical energy, starting from the fancy pommel piece at the bottom and ending at the tip of the blade. a faint glow also emanated from the edged of the blade.</p> <p>Thinking quickly, Asheworth pulled out his EESPR and scanned the weapon, the readings showed it was flowing and emitting EVE.</p> <p>“Thaumaturgic technology… They’re advanced.” Asheworth said in astonishment, realizing that Fata Morgana had become an advanced civilization.</p> <p>Artoria overheard this and decided to reply.</p> <p>“Why yes, you are surprised that we have our own technology? I mean it’s only logical that overtime we would become a more advanced culture and create our own technology, especially after thousands of years. Because we always valued the art and beauty of magic, we chose to center our technology around it. Every device you’ll find in the city is powered and energized through mana, collected and studied for countless generations.”</p> <p>“You found the means to utilize mana as an energy source? Highly impressive! Though it is a common practice that one can use mana to empower and enchant other living things or objects, never have it been done on this level before! Not even my home of Arcadia has yet to reach this level.” King Ragna stated, visibly amazed at the level of progress the Fae of Fata Morgana had reached.</p> <p>“Yeah, how did you do it? What’s the secret?” Gwyneth asked excitedly.</p> <p>Artoria answered by flipping the staff upside down then twisting the ring on the pommel, activating a mechanism that made it open like a budding flower. Inside was an ornately glowing pink crystal. It rippled and glistened with energy and a hypnotic light.</p> <p>“This is a mana crystal. Seven thousand years ago, one of the Spire Court’s most enlightened scholars made a hypothesis. If all living things were capable of generating mana, and some materials could conduct mana, then would it not be possible for there to exist or even create objects that could emit mana? So, they began researching and experimenting in order to discover the means to create a substance capable of emanating its own mana. Eventually, after much struggle and from studying the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1000">Yeren’s</a> biomancy, they succeeded in creating these! Organic crystals capable of generating mana. They are easy to grow, and depending on the color, as well as the quality or size, can last for years.”</p> <p>“That’s incredible! Such a mineral could bring the study of thaumaturgy to a whole new level!” Asheworth exclaimed, genuinely astonished by the information Artoria just shared. If the Foundation had access to such a resource, the breakthroughs they can achieve in thaumaturgical studies would be immense.</p> <p>As Artoria closed the pommel, Gwyneth noticed something familiar about the metal. She realized her weapon and portions of her armor were not only created with a similar metal, but resembled a metal she was quite familiar with. She wondered how she didn’t notice it before.</p> <p>“Wait a minute, your weapon and armor, is that… irrilite?”</p> <p>Artoria looked down at her armor and at her weapon before looking back to Gwyneth.</p> <p>“Fortunately, they are, yes.”</p> <p>“Fortunately? What does that mean?” Rivera asked.</p> <p>“I mean my weapon and armor are indeed made of irrilite, but it is no longer available in the abundance it once was.” Artoria responded as she began waving and caressing the blade of her staff. “We once had a large amount of pure irrilite in the past, however, over time, our supply of it had begun to dwindle quickly in more recent years. This concerned us greatly. Thankfully however, we found a solution.”</p> <p>“Which was?” Halloran asked.</p> <p>“Through our research, we found that yttrium becomes very strong and magically conductive when polished with a slurry made from powdered mana crystal. We refer to this super yttrium as morgana silver. While inferior in power, it has allowed us to slow the decrease of our precious irrilite enough that we can ensure it will remain available to us for centuries to come. We limit our use of irrilite only for the most important or dire circumstances.” Artoria stated. She ushered them to continue forward. “Let us continue. We do not want to keep her grace waiting.”</p> <p>After admiring the view of the lake and the boats for a few more seconds, they continued on their way through the city.</p> <p>During their walk, they came across many other sights that caught their attention, all of them captured on footage by Gwyneth and Halloran.</p> <p>They walked through one of the many parks in the city, which much like the rest of the city, matched the description in the spire tome. The trees resembled a cross between an <em>Alstonia scholaris</em> and a <em>Bluewood Condalia</em>. As they walked, the soft wind rustled the trees, resulting in a sound resembling a windchime or a harp. It was a very lush and beautiful environment, filled with healthy grass and flower fields. They saw many Changelings enjoying themselves, from families having picnics, to couples enjoying a stroll. During the walk, Halloran thought he must be imagining things when he saw what looked like a man in a tuxedo with the head of a white rabbit sitting at a table drinking tea. He wasn’t sure if what he saw was real or not, but just in case, he would mention it when they arrived at their destination.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>They then passed some sort of musical concert. There was a crowd gathered around a stage, where a group of Changelings in flashy and whimsical clothing were playing decorated instruments. There were fancy and dazzling lights effects added to make the show more exciting. The music being played seemed to be a blend of pop and classical, and was both elegant and energetic. The crowd definitely enjoyed it as they cheered and even danced to the music, with some dancing a ballot in the sky.</p> <p>They eventually found themselves crossing through a market district. Many stands and establishments sold everything from exotic trinkets to delicious foods. The market was quite crowded, as many Changelings passed along the stands and made purchases. It wasn’t long before the crowd took notice of Artoria and with her guests. Many of them looked on in confusion and curiosity at Asheworth, Rivera and Halloran. Whether because some of them have never seen humans in the flesh before, or because they wondered why humans were in Fata Morgana. Gwyneth’s presence was not as startling, as she was a Fae just like them. But the fact that she was a <em>Sidhe</em> Fae and not a <em>Changeling</em> Fae was quite unusual. King Ragna and Captain Agron had caught the most attention and reaction. Completely unfamiliar with the Droganians and unaware of their connection to the Sky Keepers, the Changelings watched them with fascination.</p> <p>“Well, this is awkward.” Halloran said, as he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with everyone staring at them, some of them whispering to each other.</p> <p>“What did you expect? These people aren’t used to seeing humans here, so it’s only natural they’d be confused and feel uncomfortable.” Rivera stated to Halloran, already familiar with similar feelings.</p> <p>“Yeah, I guess you make a good point there.” Halloran replied, as he decided to continue photographing his surroundings, to the surprise of a number of the citizens.</p> <p>“All these faces looking upon us with amazement, yet none of them recognize us as those who helped their ancestors blossom.” King Ragna stated somberly, finding it a bit upsetting that the Fae here didn’t recognize his kind with their new forms, and thus a number looked upon them in worry.</p> <p>As they were walking through the market, they approached one stand where a Changeling vendor with a beard and balding head was preoccupied with counting his daily profits. Once he noticed the group, he initially was just as confused as the others, however, his eyes then caught sight of something familiar. An ID tag with a circular symbol with three arrows pointing inward. Seeing this symbol flooded his mind with very unpleasant memories, of a time of agony and unbearable self-unfamiliarity. This caused his blood to boil as he gnashed his teeth and exclaimed “YOU!”</p> <p>Everyone in the area was startled by the unexpected angry exclamation. They all turned to the vendor, who pointed straight at Asheworth and his Foundation colleagues. He then suddenly jumped out his booth and immediately tried to tackle them, only for Artoria to interfere as she pushed him back with her staff.</p> <p>“What is the meaning of this?! Stand down!” Artoria demanded, as she continued to restrain him.</p> <p>“You bastards! You dare show yourselves here in this paradise?! You think I haven’t forgotten what you segregating tyrants have done?!” The vendor shouted as he continued his attempts to reach the humans.</p> <p>The ruckus had begun to attract a crowd, and the changelings were wondering what the angry commotion was about.</p> <p>“I said stand down! This is unacceptable behavior!” Artoria shouted, now getting annoyed at the man’s uncivilized behavior.</p> <p>“Do you have any idea what it’s like to experience what you did to me; do you know what if feels like?!” The vendor shouted as he continued to struggle, even as more guards arrived to assist in restraining him. “Having who you are forcibly ripped out of you, not remembering who you are or your true face?! Being trapped within <strong><span style="color: green">that damn endless purgatorial nightmare</span></strong>, for 57 years?! I’ll never forgive you! You hear me?! When I get my hands on you, I’ll make you experience an agony you could never imagine, so violent and traumatizing it will make the Daevites look like hippies! I’ll have you—” He continued to shout before one of the guards pulled out a glittering blue powder and blew it into the vendor’s face. He coughed as his struggling began to diminish, and he slowly faded to unconsciousness.</p> <p>“Have him brought to the courthouse for questioning once he awakens. Make sure to have a plentiful supply of tranquil dust on hand should he become agitated.” Artoria ordered the guards, as she stood upright and dusted herself off.</p> <p>“Yes captain!” A female guard said, as they began to fly off with the man in tow.</p> <p>Artoria turned her attention to the uneasy crowd, and Asheworth’s group who looked confused and uncomfortable.</p> <p>“All right everyone, break it up! Nothing to see here, just a mere misunderstanding. Everything is under control. There’s nothing to be worried about. Carry on!” Artoria assured the crowd, who began to disperse and return to browsing the market. “That’s better.”</p> <p>“Um… What the hell was that?!” Halloran demanded, absolutely confused by the unexpected aggressiveness of the vendor.</p> <p>“Yeah, what exactly was he talking about? Is there something we should know about?” Asheworth questioned, now feeling suspicious and being left in the dark.</p> <p>Artoria sighed before responding.</p> <p>“I very much apologise, but for your sake I’d not have those badges to be visible for all to see while we are out in the open.” She said, as she pointed to Halloran’s Foundation ID tag.</p> <p>“Why not?” Rivera asked, also uncomfortable at the sudden outburst.</p> <p>“I’m sorry, but that is better being answered by our queen. We should get moving.” Artoria informed them, as she continued forward. The others follow her in silence.</p> <p>For the rest of their walk, not much was said after the unexpected hostility from the vendor. They chose to save asking about it until they met the city’s leader, but Asheworth and Rivera couldn’t stop thinking about the things that the vendor said in his outburst.</p> <p>“Daniel, that vendor back at the market, those things he said… It sounds like he was talking about—” Rivera whispered to Asheworth, who quickly responded back.</p> <p>“Yeah, I noticed it too. There’s something going on here in this city. Something bigger that the Foundation is somehow connected to.”</p> <p>“You might be right. Do you think it has anything to do with the 3903-A instances?” Rivera questioned back, agreeing with Asheworth that the Changelings were hiding something.</p> <p>“We’ll soon find out. For now, let’s stay quiet about it.” Asheworth instructed Rivera.</p> <p>“Alright.”</p> <p>They walked for fifteen minutes more as they continued to view the many sights within the city. They passed several more parks and other water bridges, as well as some type of water park which contained glistening pools and numerous structures similar to water slides. The Changelings present were wearing some type of swimwear. There was even a lazy river that went underground, with faint light and music emanating from the tunnel entrance.</p> <p>Viewing these beautiful sights helped the group feel more at ease, admiring how these people were living in a truly peaceful and wonderous place.</p> <p>Eventually they finally reached their destination as Artoria led them to an absolutely incredible sight. They found themselves in front of the colossal palace that was visible from outside the city, and it was a truly unbelievable sight to behold.</p> <p>The palace was megalithic in size, possibly the largest structure to have ever been built. It had to be a thousand meters in both width and length. It retained the same architectural styling as all the other buildings in Fata Morgana, but with a more regal and aristocratic appearance. The design of the palace resembled a cross between the Taj Mahal, the Sagrada Família, the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, and the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. It was flanked on all sides by multiple towers, all slightly taller than the main portion of the palace. However, the most noticeable feature of the structure was the immensely tall spire-like tower perched directly atop the center of the palace. It was so tall and slim that it not only rose above the clouds, but it seemed almost impossible for it to remain stationary without some form of support. While barely visible, there seemed to be an observation deck at the top.</p> <p>“Holy shit, look at the size of it!” Halloran exclaimed, dumbstruck and overwhelmed by the size of the structure.</p> <p>“It’s huge! I don’t think such a structure of this size has ever been documented or discovered before.” Rivera said as she stared at the palace in awe.</p> <p>“The Titania Spire…” Gwyneth said, as she had to crane her neck back to capture the entire structure on her video camera.</p> <p>“Truly incredible! It greatly warms my heart to see how much your civilization has prospered.” King Ragna remarked towards Artoria.</p> <p>“The Titania Spire is the pride and heart of Fata Morgana, constructed by the greatest architects of the Fae Empire to ever live. The outside is indeed glorious, but it is even more magnificent on the inside. Let us proceed. We don’t want to keep her grace waiting.” Artoria said as she ushered them in.</p> <p>She led them through the massive golden doors, held ajar for them by palace guards. Once they passed through the doors, they were met with a massive, bustling glittering lobby lined with marble columns and a polished quartz floor heavily detailed in colorful patterns. There were many beautifully carved murals on every side of the chamber, each depicting Fae figures in either nature or city environments. In the center, surrounded by water fountains and flower bed displays, was a decorated cylindrical column that rose to the ceiling with a door in the center. It was revealed to be an elevator as the doors opened and a group of Changelings came out and another group went in. Looking up, they could see there were many more floors within the structure, each taking the form of a ring-shaped balcony with four walkways leading to the center elevator.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>“Well, I can say you were right about it being just as amazing on the inside.” Asheworth said, as he admired the room’s décor.</p> <p>“May I ask, why would you need an elevator if you can fly? I’ve also been meaning to ask the same thing about the aircrafts as well.” Halloran asked Artoria as he glanced at the aforementioned elevator.</p> <p>“While our wings may be strong and flowing with mana, they are just like any other muscle or limb of our body. Eventually they get tired and need a break. It also eases the burden on carrying heavy loads to higher areas!” Artoria answered Halloran.</p> <p>“Okay, you make a good point.”</p> <p>“Speaking of the elevator, let us make our way to the royal chambers.” Artoria said, as she ushered them all toward the elevator.</p> <p>Once in front of the sliding doors, she pressed one of many glowing sigils on the side, choosing the one that had an insignia resembling a tiara. After several seconds, the elevator doors opened, and they all entered as the doors closed behind them. To their surprise, the elevator’s interior was much larger than it appeared on the outside, big enough to fit a small crowd.</p> <p>“A non-euclidean spaced elevator? Impressive.” Asheworth said, as he admired the elevator as they ascended.</p> <p>“If I may, before we meet face to face, what can you tell us about your monarch? Not to sound like I am making accusations, but considering this city was a part of the Fae Empire and knowing of one of their rulers…" Captain Agron asked Artoria, as he felt cautious and unsure of their meeting with the city’s queen.</p> <p>“I assure you her highness is a benevolent and kind individual, with a pure heart and soul. She is a sweet and caring ruler who ensures the happiness and safety of not only her people here, but for Fae of all kinds. She is also one who can see the good in all souls, and knows when one is deserving of forgiveness for any wrongdoing. She is in all ways a mirror image of the beauty and kindness of the Inventor, in more ways than you can fathom!” Artoria retorted back to Captain Agron, slightly offended by his assumptions.</p> <p>Captain Agron was slightly taken back by this response, but he straightened himself and cleared his throat.</p> <p>“…Forgive me, I did not mean to offend you in any way. I just wanted to be sure there was nothing to be concerned about before we meet your queen. I am simply considering the safety of my liege.”</p> <p>“I accept your apology, and I understand as we both are the most trusted guards to our leaders.” Artoria assured him, understanding Agron’s reasoning.”</p> <p>The elevator then stopped, as the doors opened into a hallway lined with lush flower beds and paintings of regal Fae figures.</p> <p>As they walked down the hallway, one of the paintings caught Gwyneth’s attention. It depicted a Sidhe Fae woman with golden hair with silver highlights. She was wearing a regal green dress with white bell sleeves and an unusual necklace. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-enlightened-children">It was a golden charm with a red gem and a dragon shaped motif in the center</a>. But the most eye-catching detail was the floating crown composed of gears hovering above her head.</p> <p>“Is that…?” Gwyneth whispered to herself in question, as she looked at the painting in familiarity.</p> <p>Two other paintings also caught her attention. The first one featured the same woman with her hands clasping the hands of a male Changeling Fae with short brown combed hair and sky-blue eyes. He was wearing a decorated tunic and cape along with a sapphire encrusted silver crown. Both were smiling in the painting, which made it give off a very romantic vibe. The second one depicted the Fae king holding an infant wrapped up in a white blanket. She had golden locks of hair peeking out of the blanket around her forehead.</p> <p>“…What?” Gwyneth questioned, with a look of shock and confusion at what she was viewing in the paintings.</p> <p>Her thoughts were interrupted however by the sound of a female voice singing. It was getting louder as they approached the end of the hallway, where a set of incredibly ornate platinum doors stood before them.</p> <p>“Here we are, the royal chamber.” Artoria said, as she then opened the doors and led them inside.</p> <p>The room was a large domed chamber where a star-shaped chandelier hung from the ceiling. The chandelier also held smaller star themed decorations. The area was overflowing with many colorful plants and flowers along the walls. The chamber had the overall feeling of a garden. Numerous butterflies fluttered in the air, over the lights and around the plants. They didn’t resemble any currently known species, as their large wings were a sun yellow with a blue, white, and pink diamond pattern that resembled stained glass. A faint trail of sparkles coming from their wings as they fluttered in the air was also visible.</p> <p>Finally, they noticed the source of the singing. At the end of the room, a throne similar to a hammock chair was suspended from a gazebo covered in flora and surrounded by lavender grass.</p> <p>Perched on the throne with her eyes closed was a Changeling woman with waist length golden blonde silky hair. She wore a white elegant gossamer dress with angel sleeves and gold trimmings and a long train. Her gown had golden shoulder guards and she wore glimmering full length fingerless gloves. Much like all the other Fae in the city, her feet were bare, with the exception of thigh high white stirrups which matched with her gloves. Perched on her head was a platinum tiara adorned with bright pink flowers, and a set of decorative silver inlayed gold Fae wings on the sides. Although she also wore several gold jewelry pieces, her wings were her most beautiful trait. They were large and glittering, light gold in color and emitted a white shimmering light. Their stained-glass pattern made them look mesmerizing as the wings pulsed with colors.</p> <p>She was beautiful, young and flawless. Combined with her natural beauty and elegant attire, she resembled an angel more than a Fae.</p> <p>She was singing to a group of small children. The song she was singing was an extended variant of the same song that was on the note that summoned the city. Besides her were two female twins. Both had blue eyes and midnight blue long hair, although the one on the right’s skin had a more purple tint compared to the blue of her twin. They both wore gossamer gowns and laurel crowns. The one on the left played a golden harp, while the one on the right played a velvet ocarina.</p> <p>Artoria loudly cleared her throat before speaking.</p> <p>“My queen, I have returned with the strangers.”</p> <p>The queen stopped singing and opened her eyes, revealing them to be sky-blue and sparkling, as she along with the twins and children looked at Artoria and the others.</p> <p>“That will be all for now children, we will continue later at another time. You may return to your parents.” The queen softly said to the group of children, who immediately rushed past Asheworth and the others, giggling as they ran through the doors.</p> <p>She then stood from her throne and approached the group, walking on her toes with a graceful and soft step as the twins followed her.</p> <p>Artoria turned to the others as she bowed her head and held her arm out to the queen.</p> <p>“Presenting her majesty, the Lady Titania of Fata Morgana, Queen Áine Lurline Tanaquill.”</p> <p>Queen Áine stood before them as she spread her arms out with a slight bow.</p> <p>“I have been expecting your arrival. Welcome to my home. I hope the trip and sights were to your liking.”</p> <p>“Indeed, they were. Your city is quite a sight. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” Rivera said, bowing her head as a show of respect.</p> <p>“Fata Morgana’s beauty knows no boundaries, for it is felt within the currents of time and the will of the soul. I see you’ve already met my captain of the guard, Artoria.” Queen Áine replied.</p> <p>“Yes, your highness. She has shown us around the city, and answered several questions we’ve had.” Gwyneth said, as she moved forward. “It is an honor to meet you. My name is Olivié Gwyneth, a Fae historian.”</p> <p>“A great pleasure it is to have you here my dear. It has been so long since a Sidhe Fae has walked within Fata Morgana. Tell me, are you the one who played Morgana’s Lullaby?” Queen Áine greeted Gwyneth, with an unexpected soft embrace that made Gwyneth slightly blush before she let go.</p> <p>“No, your highness, the one you want is him.” Gwyneth said as she pointed to King Ragna.</p> <p>“Oh, you must be the one that my guards informed me of. The one whose people descended from the Sky Keepers of old. Droganians I believe is what they said, yes?” Queen Áine said as she approached King Ragna, showing signs of excitement and curiosity.</p> <p>“You are correct, Queen Áine. My people survived Mab’s purge and still walk this Earth, evolved into a new people. My name is Ragna Von Morrowind, Vajra King of the city of Arcadia. It is an honor to be welcomed to your magnificent metropolis.” King Ragna introduced himself, as he took Queen Áine’s right hand and softly kissed it as a respectful gesture.</p> <p>“I must speak in gratitude as well. Captain Agron, his trusted commander of the Droganian Army.” Captain Agron said as he placed his hand on his heart.</p> <p>“The gratitude is mine, knowing all that your ancestors have done for my people in ancient times. I do wish to hear much about your people and this Arcadia.” Queen Áine said to King Ragna, before her attention was drawn back to Asheworth and his companions. “Of course, let us not forget our human guests. You are the first humans I have ever seen in person.”</p> <p>“I am sure a lot of the people here feel the same way. I am Daniel Asheworth. These are my colleagues Jessie Rivera and Chris Halloran. We’re researchers from—” Asheworth replied as he began introducing himself and his colleagues, before he was interrupted by the blue twin.</p> <p>“The SCP Foundation.”</p> <p>This of course, surprised and shocked the team as they stared at her with wide eyes.</p> <p>“What? How do you know that?!” Halloran exclaimed in confusion.</p> <p>“Because she has met your people before. I’m Erelynn Levainn, and this is my sister Elewynn. We are her majesties’ royal minstrels.” The purple twin, now known as Erelynn answered.</p> <p>“She has? How?” Gwyneth asked.</p> <p>“Because I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your organization, you brought me here.” Elewynn responded as she moved to stand next to her sister.</p> <p>Hearing this, Asheworth immediately put two and two together.</p> <p>“You were a 3903-A weren’t you? An Otherkin.”</p> <p>“My sister and I both are actually; I was first, and she came much later.” Erelynn said.</p> <p>“So, you two used to be human?” Rivera asked.</p> <p>“No, they were always Fae, but it wasn’t until they returned to this city, that they were truly Fae once more.” Queen Áine said as she placed her hands on the twins’ shoulders.</p> <p>“What does that even mean? In fact, I think now would be a good time to stop with the pleasantries and get some answers from you. Because we have many questions.” Halloran stated as he walked up to Queen Áine and looked her in the eyes.</p> <p>“I know that you have questions, and I promise all of them will be answered. But first I must ask questions of my own. Firstly, why have you come to Fata Morgana?” Queen Áine asked them, as she stepped back a bit and looked at everyone in Asheworth’s group.</p> <p>“A day ago, we discovered the royal repository of the Fae Empire. Inside we found numerous artifacts, but the most notable is a painting depicting this very building. Thanks to Ms. Gwyneth here, we were able to learn about the legend of Fata Morgana and how it disappeared.” Asheworth informed Queen Áine, as he and Rivera moved to the front of the group.</p> <p>“Not only that, but the painting secretly contained a note that stated if we played this <em>Morgana’s Lullaby</em> as you called it, it would summon the ancient city. However, that begs numerous questions. Why was that painting in the repository in the first place? Artoria confirmed that all relics and works made in Fata Morgana were reclaimed so Mab wouldn’t destroy them. If that’s true, why was that painting in there, and why did it have that note with instructions to bring back the city, and most importantly… what happened to Fata Morgana? Why did it disappear?” Rivera chimed in as she also began laying out the main questions of interest.</p> <p>Queen Áine was quiet for several seconds, as she looked at the ground with a somber expression. She then finally looked back up to them and spoke.</p> <p>“The Inventor.”</p> <p>“The Inventor?” Gwyneth asked.</p> <p>“She is not only the reason that this city came to be, but she is also the reason why it vanished and has not been seen since. However, it was to protect us and the ones she loved.” Queen Áine stated, as she looked up to the ceiling.</p> <p>“Protect? From what, and how?” Halloran questioned.</p> <p>“To protect us from Mab in case she fell. You see, the Inventor didn’t just guard and watch over the city because she helped create it and cared for its people, but because she cared for its governing ruler more than anything else in the world. The first lord of Fata Morgana, Adresin Balloer. He and the Inventor actually knew each other since their youth and were very close, so much so it was believed that they were having an affair in secret. No one, not even Mab herself knew about it, or as it was assumed.” Queen Áine began explaining.</p> <p>“When the time came for her to face Mab and put an end to her tyranny, she first came here to Fata Morgana, to Adresin and gave him a crystal flower and her greatest treasure. She then told him, demanded of him, that he hide the city from the world, to send it somewhere else, beyond this realm where it be isolated and safe, and to wait there until it could return. The crystal flower reflected her lifeforce. She told Adresin that if the flower was still healthy and strong when the hour of midnight struck, then it would mean that she survived and that it was safe for the city to return. However, if it were to wilt, crumble and shatter, then it meant she had sadly perished, slain by her wretched twin. If that were to happen, then the city would remain hidden, separated from the world until the day came when Mab was no more, and the world was once again pure and tranquil.”</p> <p>Queen Áine stopped for a few seconds before she continued “To let it be known that day had come, she secretly took one piece of work from Fata Morgana back with her, slipped a hymn sheet with a message in her writing, and stored it in the empires’ vault of treasures to be found by the ones from this bright new world, so they could bring back the silver towers. She also made him promise that if the latter possibility did come to pass, he would not only protect Fata Morgana and its people, but would also protect and cherish her greatest treasure. Her most prized possession, the one thing that she cherished and loved just as much as Adresin, maybe even more. He swore on their love that he would, for it was his greatest treasure too.”</p> <p>“Isolation… into a separate reality.” Asheworth exclaimed, now that the mystery of the city’s fate was answered. They intentionally separated the city from baseline reality to ensure its survival, thus turning into a nexus.</p> <p>“So, The Inventor was in love with the king? That’s quite a surprise.” Halloran exclaimed, interested by the new information.</p> <p>“Actually, that brings up a question, what was this great treasure of hers? I was told that it was theorized that the Inventor entrusted something to the city, but what exactly was it? Also, what exactly do you mean it was Adresin’s greatest treasure too?” Rivera asked, as she pondered what the treasure might be.</p> <p>Surprisingly, Queen Áine didn’t have to answer Rivera, as Gwyneth’s eyes widened as she came to a sudden realization.</p> <p>“A child…”</p> <p>“What?” Rivera asked, as she barely heard Gwyneth.</p> <p>“Those paintings in the hall, one of them depicted who I assume was Adresin, and he was holding a baby girl. The greatest treasure… it was a child, the Inventor and Adresin’s child!” Gwyneth explained.</p> <p>Asheworth and the others looked shocked as they looked to Queen Áine for clarification. She smiled in response.</p> <p>“Your friend is indeed correct. The treasure was her daughter, Ariel… my ancestor.”</p> <p>“…Oh my god!” Halloran said, as he placed his hand on his forehead and stared off into the distance, trying to absorb what had just been revealed.</p> <p>“I-I don’t know what to say.” Asheworth stated.</p> <p>“Don’t worry, that is pretty much everyone’s reaction when they find out.” Elewynn stated with a look of slight amusement.</p> <p>“It was quite a surprise to us when we first found out as well.” Erelynn followed up.</p> <p>“But… I don’t understand. How can this be?! This is just so sudden! I mean, neither I nor anyone else has ever found any relics or documents that implies the Inventor had a child!” Gwyneth ranted, as she was overwhelmed by the fact that not only was The Inventor a mother, but that the woman standing in front of them was a descendant.</p> <p>“That is because she did not want anyone to know. She feared that if Mab were to find out her sister was gravid, she would harm or kill the child, or do something far worse such as place a curse on her while she was still in the womb. Mab would have done so as she would see the child as a potential threat to her power should they mature. So, the Inventor kept the truth hidden from the rest of the empire. She even went so far as to use powerful illusions on herself to hide her development, although, she was getting concerned that Mab may have already had suspicions. Luckily however, Ariel was born at early dawn on the very day the Inventor would face Mab. She entrusted Adresin, as the father, to protect and care for Ariel if she did not return from her confrontation with Mab. Of course, she never did.” Queen Áine stated somberly, which is understandable as she spoke of her beloved and legendary ancestor.</p> <p>“Do not let her passing sadden you. You should know that thanks to her sacrifice, her people were freed from her sister’s evil ways. Look at the city you stand in now. It is a paradise! She ensured it survived and it is a symbol that not all the Fae Empire was corrupt. You and your ancestors have even ensured it prospered into such a beautiful and peaceful place. I’m sure the Inventor is watching you from beyond… and is truly proud of you.” King Ragna said, as he placed his hand on Queen Áine’s shoulder and comforted her.</p> <p>“Speaking of which, if I may interject, I do have a concern that you could perhaps address. During our travels through the city, I noticed all your guards carry magical mana charged weaponry, and saw one of the sigils for the elevator resembled a sword. If I were to guess, I assume this would be an armory. Also, I must state that Artoria and her comrades first reacted to us with caution and signs of unease, stating they did not know if we were a threat. So, I must ask, why this assumption of possible hostility, and why have weapons? Are you not a peaceful people?” Captain Agron stepped in and questioned Queen Áine.</p> <p>“We are, and always have been.” She then sighed before continuing. “Unfortunately, when we separated the city to the space beyond this realm, we did not expect there would be forces and horrors on the outside. Hordes of lifeforce draining demons, soulless abominations that knew only destruction, unspeakable malevolent beings that can break the mind like the stone against glass, and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3930">formless specters ripped between existence and the void that howl and rage with no clarity</a>. To defend ourselves from these threats, we decided to focus on the development of our military prowess, to ensure that Fata Morgana and its people would never become prey for the wretches from beyond. We amassed a strong army, designed durable battle armor, and constructed great war machines and powerful weapons, all for the sake of protecting our home and ensuring peace for us all from the wicked and the abominable. We are a peaceful people, but even the most tranquil of utopias must know when to prepare themselves for battle.” Queen Áine replied.</p> <p>“I see now, that is indeed a wise and responsible ideal to follow. Forgive me for my suspicions your grace.” Captain Agron stated, as he bowed his head as a gesture of apology. “I am relieved to know you are prepared should the need arise. You should stick to that ideal, because unfortunately, we summoned your city at the wrong time. The world is not in a state where your people can just roam freely—” He began to inform the queen, but he was interrupted by her as she cut him off.</p> <p>“I know of what you speak. You refer to the many dangers which still walk this earth, and of what the humans that control the world from the shadows refer to as The Veil… I also know that our people, the Fae have suffered a horrible tragedy, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-proposal">where thousands of souls have been lost and stripped of their names, one that the ones known as The Foundation had a hand in</a>.”</p> <p>Asheworth’s group was once again completely taken back, and their eyes widened by what Queen Áine had stated.</p> <p>“How… How do you know about all that?!” Rivera shouted in surprise at the queen’s awareness of the Veil and of the Third Diaspora</p> <p>Queen Áine looked to the Levainn twins and Artoria, giving them a nod and a look of assurance. They silently responded by shaking their heads in agreement. She then looked back to the others, as she began walking past them with the twins and Artoria following her, and waved her hand forward, ushering them to follow.</p> <p>“Come, there is something I must show you.”</p> <p>So, they followed her as she led them back to the elevator. Once at the elevator doors, she waved her hand above the panel of sigils, causing a larger yellow sigil in the shape of a globe to materialize. She pressed it and the doors opened. They all walked into the elevator and watched as the doors closed. They began to ascend, only this time at a much faster rate that went on for over a minute.</p> <p>The elevator finally stopped, and the doors opened. They now found themselves in a bright white domed chamber. It was mostly empty, except for several large bookcases, a number of unidentifiable machines, and a large statue depicting the Inventor located on the front wall. On the sides of the statue were large windows, revealing a beautiful starry sky, a cloud occasionally passing by, and a sea of lights at a far distance below. There was also a podium-like device made of irrilite and gold with a glass globe in the middle located in the center of the room.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>“Where are we now?” Gwyneth asked.</p> <p>“This is the Grand Observatory.” Queen Áine answered.</p> <p>“This is a very special room, as only the Lady Titania herself and a select few, including myself and the twins have access to it.” Artoria followed up.</p> <p>“An Observatory? But I don’t see anything that looks like a telescope.” Halloran stated as he looked around the room.</p> <p>“It is not meant for viewing the stars above, as there are no real astrological bodies in the space Fata Morgana occupies.” Queen Áine said, as she approached the podium.</p> <p>“Then what is it for?” Rivera asked, sensing they were about to see something incredible.</p> <p>“I shall show you.” Queen Áine replied, as she stood in front of the podium. She proceeded to operate a small spherical device on the side of the podium that turned, twisted, and rotated much like a Rubik’s Cube. After several seconds, she squeezed it as it began glowing a pink light, and the globe in the center of the podium began pulsating and rippling brightly in vibrant colors. Suddenly, a beam of energy and a huge diamond shaped projection materialized before them from the crystal on the front of the podium. It appeared to be a holographic screen as an image began to form. An aerial view of a large urban city was shown on the projection.</p> <p>“That’s… that’s Philadelphia!” Rivera stated in surprise, recognizing the location.</p> <p>Queen Áine then tapped the globe and the image changed to another. This time a Russian city.</p> <p>“Moscow.” Asheworth stated.</p> <p>She tapped the globe once again and the image changed to a beach with the city of Fata Morgana visible on the ocean’s surface.</p> <p>“Brzezno Beach, that’s where we came from.” Halloran stated, as he began putting the pieces together of the device’s functions. “This is a global surveillance system.”</p> <p>“You are indeed correct; this is the Eye of the Observer. It allows me to open a dimensional window that lets me view any location I desire. I am able to view anywhere above or below the surface of the Earth.” Queen Áine, stated as she changed the image again, now showing <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7600">an underground megalithic city with buildings made of metal and plants inhabited by millions of Yeren</a>.</p> <p>“Those are Yeren. What is that place?” Asheworth questioned, in shock at the image.</p> <p>“This is Druv’tuul, ancient subterranean home of the Yeren that was founded after the Day of Flowers. I believe your organization already discovered it several decades ago.” Queen Áine stated.</p> <p>“They did? I mean Asheworth and I were vaguely aware of the existence of a Yeren city, but never had any confirmation from the O5.” Rivera stated in surprise.</p> <p>“I think it would be best if the three of us didn’t mention seeing this when we leave.” Halloran suggested to Asheworth and Rivera, worried at the idea of punishment for discovering information likely above their clearance levels.</p> <p>“Agreed.” They both said in unison.</p> <p>“Absolutely fascinating! If you do not mind me asking, can you put in these coordinates?” King Ragna asked, as he whispered something into Queen Áine’s ear.</p> <p>“Very well.” Queen Áine said, as she changed the image yet again. It was another underground city, appearing to be still in some stages of development and improvement populated by Droganians.</p> <p>“This must be your home. Arcadia you said it is called, yes?” Queen Áine asked King Ragna, as she admired the architecture and the many Droganians flying in the air.</p> <p>“Indeed, Lady Áine. I hope you do not mind the numerous signs of construction and renovation, my people just started progressing to a more developed society a decade ago, after getting over a millennia-long period of paranoia.” King Ragna replied.</p> <p>“Amazing! So, this thing can view anywhere on Earth?” Gwyneth asked, as she was baffled by such a technological marvel.</p> <p>“Indeed, my dear. It can view any location above the surface, below it or even within the ocean’s depths.” Queen Áine said, as she then changed the image to show what appeared to be an underwater <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/orcadia">Finfolk</a> city settlement deep beneath the sea. “It allows me to see everything that is occurring in the world, whether it be the lives of humans, or of the many other races that still thrive today.”</p> <p>“Amazing, I don’t think even the GOC has technology like this.” Gwyneth said in astonishment.</p> <p>"However, it is not limited to just Earth. It can also view neighboring pocket dimensions…” Queen Áine changed the image to a large highly developed city with amazing architectural structures that seemed to go on for miles.</p> <p>“That’s Three Portlands.” Gwyneth said.</p> <p>Queen Áine then changed the image to a city that Gwyneth, Asheworth, and Rivera knew all too well.</p> <p>“Esterberg…” Gwyneth said, as she was somewhat flattered that Queen Áine was familiar with her home.</p> <p>“…As well as separate dimensions.” Queen Áine stated as she changed the image to <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2264">a regal non-euclidean city with a yellow sky with black stars</a>.</p> <p>“This is indeed an incredible machine your highness. But considering what you told us you knew earlier, I’m guessing this machine is quite old.” Asheworth said, as he began to have an idea where Queen Áine was going with this demonstration.</p> <p>“You are correct. It has been used for eons by my ancestors to watch over the Earth. It was built a few hundred years after Fata Morgana vanished. Originally it was less powerful and could only view the Earth for a limited amount of time, but as we advanced over the millennia it was redesigned and modified into the device it is now.” Queen Áine stated, as she continued to shift the images to various locations.</p> <p>“Exactly… How much did you and your ancestors see with this, what events did you witness?” Rivera asked, as she was beginning to get the feeling that Queen Áine knew more than she was letting on.</p> <p>She then turned back to them with a serious expression, one of an old soul that has witnessed much more than we could ever imagine.</p> <p>“We’ve seen more than enough. We witnessed the time of the Yeren as they ruled the Earth and built their towers of vines and roots, then watched as the relentless spirit of The Undoer manipulated you humans into rising up, burning their empire to the ground and stealing the title of rulers of the Earth. We witnessed your many ancient cultures and societies as they rose, prospered, then fell. We witnessed the first great war of magic, where <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/church-of-the-broken-god-hub">the metallic empire that followed the metal lord of intellect</a> clashed with <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub">the benders of flesh and blood who praised their grand messiah who gained great power when they challenged the broodmare of flesh and infection</a>. We also watched when <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-pl-259">a descendant of Mab had set out to resurrect her empire and clashed with the kingdom of sorcerers who mastered the art of commanding thorns and roots soaked in the blood of their slaves</a>.”</p> <p>“You and your ancestors witnessed many of ancient history’s greatest events, haven’t you?” Ashworth questioned Queen Áine.</p> <p>“We have, but not just of ancient history. We also watched, as out of fear and paranoia, your organizations of the shadows chose to isolate the magical world from your people, leading them to forget the past and letting most fade into myths or mere stories. We were watching as a nation, through the will of their power-hungry dictator, attempted to manipulate the laws of magic by seeking to re-create a being that would control the rules of human magic and bring it under their control, and saw as they failed and nearly led to you humans forever losing the chance to ever again experience the ancient arts.” Queen Áine stopped as she suddenly clenched her fists, and tears began to fall on her cheeks. “Then… I witnessed, when during the attempted siege on a black factory of pain and misery, many of my kind, many good Fae men, women and even children, were stripped of their identities and banished to <strong><span style="color: green">a land where those who forgotten themselves forever wander</span></strong>. Friends lost, entire families torn apart… and they were unable to remember those that they wished to mourn.”</p> <p>The room was quiet, except for the quiet rustling of Queen Áine’s gown as she fell to her knees and began to weep with regret, pity, and remorse for all the poor souls who perished or were lost both physically and spiritually that day.</p> <p>Everyone watched with somber faces, feeling empathy for the monarch, as they watched her wipe away the tears streaming down her face.</p> <p>Rivera walked to Queen Áine, assisted her back up on her feet, and even helped wipe away her remaining tears.</p> <p>“I know you must feel terrible having to witness that. Nobody deserves to witness most of their kind disappear like that. I get the feeling you probably blame us for it. But you must understand, that was an accident and wasn’t even our doing. Mab, she—” Rivera was interrupted as Queen Áine held her hand up.</p> <p>“No, you are mistaken. I do not blame you, for I know it was Mab’s doing, through possession of one of your own. I do not hate you for what happened, because I know you did not mean it, and feel guilty for it, as I have seen your many attempts to make amends for the tragedy.” She then looked down to her feet as her somber expression returned. “In fact, the only person who should feel guilty is me. Because I could have saved them.”</p> <p>“So, why didn’t you? If you were aware of what was happening at the factory that day, then why didn’t you try to do anything to prevent the Third Diaspora?” Asheworth questioned, as he was confused about the queen’s lack of actions.</p> <p>“I tried, oh how I tried. The moment I saw what was occurring on the projection, and realized the presence that was buried underneath that horrible complex, I immediately rallied my entire armada and ordered them to prepare for our return to Earth to stand against the Undoer. I knew how to bring Fata Morgana back to Earth, since my family has passed on that knowledge for generations, since the time of Adresin and Ariel. But, by the time my army was prepared, and I was ready to perform the ritual… It was too late. We took too long, and we failed them.” Queen Áine was silent for several seconds, before her expression shifted to one of determination and commitment. “But I refused to give up! I may not have been able to help them before, but I am able to at least help them now!”</p> <p>“How?” Gwyneth asked, wondering how Fata Morgana could possibly help <strong><span style="color: #bf59bf">those of blank personas in the woods</span></strong>.</p> <p>“You already know the answer.” Erelynn said as she and Elewynn walked up to stand next to Queen Áine.</p> <p>“We do?” Rivera asked in confusion.</p> <p>Asheworth suddenly had a look of realization, as he looked upon the twins.</p> <p>“3903-A, the Otherkin.”</p> <p>“Yes. While I am aware of <strong><span style="color: green">that land of green that is empty of itself</span></strong>, I sadly cannot simply pull <strong><span style="color: #bf59bf">its poor confused refugees</span></strong> out as long as they lack their names. However, I am not powerful enough to return their names to them while they are trapped there, nor do we have the technology to do so. Mab had gained enough power to have achieved partial divinity, a demi-god if you will. I realized they were stuck there until their names were returned, or until they perished. That’s when I had an idea, If I couldn’t save them in their current lives, then I could save them in their next one.” Queen Áine stated.</p> <p>“The next one? Like in the afterlife?” Rivera asked.</p> <p>“Not exactly. Through the Eye of the Observer, and the many ancient spells I had access to, I managed to get in contact with <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-moons-initiative-hub">The Prime After-Plain of the many realms where those who passed are sent to</a>. There, I made contact with the deities that govern it, for if a partial-deity can take away names, then surely a full deity can restore them. It was then I bestowed upon them a proposal. If they were to allow <strong><span style="color: #bf59bf">the lost ones who cannot recall their souls</span></strong> that perished to have their names restored, along with those who lost their lives from an unstoppable horrific calamity, and allow them to reincarnate, the people of Fata Morgana in return would praise and worship them as part of the many deities that we honor. They accepted this offer, and the deal was struck. But, as an extra measure of protection for them in this world govern under the bounds of what you call “Normalcy”, They would reincarnate as humans, and once they matured, we would send signals of influence which would unlock the memories of their previous life. We would then lead them to the shores where Fata Morgana would temporarily return, thus allowing them to enter the city. Once they entered the city’s walls, their memories would return along with their true names, and they would go through a metamorphosis and become Changelings, or as we have come to know them, Otherkin, thus being Fae once more.” Queen Áine stated, explaining the final mystery of Fata Morgana and of the Otherkin.</p> <p>“Reincarnation through divine intervention?! That’s… absolutely insane!” Gwyneth exclaimed, as she is overwhelmed by everything that she learned within the past hour.</p> <p>“Is that also why you guys know how to speak English?” Halloran asked.</p> <p>“It is indeed. We simply felt it would be better for all the reincarnated individuals who arrive here that we learn the languages of these modern times, instead of them learning the languages of old.” Queen Áine explained.</p> <p>“I’m guessing that vendor at the market was an Otherkin as well?” Asheworth questioned Artoria.</p> <p>“Yes, that is also why I asked you to hide your badges. Despite being manipulated by Mab, your Foundation was still heavily at fault for the Third Diaspora, thus not all Otherkin are forgiving toward your organization.”</p> <p>“I’m guessing that is why you two don’t show us hostility. You know it was Mab who took away your names.” Rivera said to the Levainn twins.</p> <p>“Oh, no no no. My sister and I were not victims of the Third Diaspora. We actually used to be elves from Hy-Brasil. We both perished when that beast brought the kingdom’s destruction.” Elewynn retorted. as she held her sister’s hand.</p> <p>“Wait! I just thought of something. What about those that managed to escape by stealing the names of someone else? Do you know and do something about them? Because we passed one of the parks getting here, and I saw what looked like a man with a rabbit head wearing a tuxedo. At first, I thought it wasn’t real, but after learning about the reincarnated Fae, something tells me it was.” Halloran exclaimed, realizing he forgot to mention it when they got to the Spire.</p> <p>“Oh, that must have been <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/taboo">Japers</a>. Yes, you are correct. He did lose his true name and stole another’s to escape <strong><span style="color: green">those gloomy forest trees</span></strong>.” Erelynn said as she rubbed the back of her head with an expression of pity. “But he promises to return it once he gets his own back!”</p> <p>“It is true. Those who stole another’s name and managed to return to your world, were allowed to take refuge here in Fata Morgana. For since they are no longer trapped within <strong><span style="color: green">a domain of dull greenery and somber sunlight</span></strong>, we can help them restore their true names, and are currently seeking a way to do so.” Queen Áine stated, sounding full of hope.</p> <p>“Well in that case, my people and I will be more than happy to assist you. After all, the Fae back on Earth have been more than willing to help us Droganians, so I feel we should return the favor by helping you and <strong><span style="color: #bf59bf">the many victims of the Undoer’s sins</span></strong>. Speaking of which, I was hoping that you and I could discuss possible cooperations between our peoples. I’m sure there is much we could do for each other.” King Ragna suggested, as he held out his hand to Queen Áine in a gesture of friendship.</p> <p>“That goes the same for me and my friends here. I wish to learn everything you and the Changelings can tell me about your home and its customs, along with whatever secrets you may know about the Fae Empire. Whatever knowledge you share with us will be of great use to the Sidhe Lounge and Fae everywhere!” Gwyneth stated, excited and thrilled to learn whatever Queen Áine could provide her.</p> <p>“If you really are trying to help undo the mess that the Foundation unintentionally created with the factory, then let us help as well. We and the O5 created what we call Directive Alpha/1911 to atone for it, so even if some of the Otherkin may be against it, please let us work together to make a better world for everyone.” Asheworth said as he too offered his hand to Queen Áine. “I’m sure it is what she would have wanted.” He said, gesturing toward the statue in the room.</p> <p>Queen Áine gave them all a soft caring smile, as she took both King Ragna and Asheworth’s hands.</p> <p>“I know, and I humbly accept your willingness to help. However, I do have some conditions to this partnership.”</p> <p>“What will those be?” Captain Agron asked, as he stood next to King Ragna.</p> <p>“We shall discuss those at a later time. Until then, as a way to thank you for your willingness to aid us, I’d like us all to take some time to enjoy ourselves. There is so much Fata Morgana has to offer in regards to luxury and entertainment. I would like for you to have a chance to experience it for yourself. It is my offer.” Queen Áine said, as she gestured to the expansive city view, with a look of excitement and eagerness. “I would also like to hear some of the stories you may care to share. I may have watched many events through the Observer’s Eye, But I wish to hear you speak of them yourselves.</p> <p>“Also, I would like to have a friendly spar with Agron. I find your weapon fascinating. I can tell it is magical just like mine and am interested to see what it is capable of.” Artoria said to King Ragna, as she pointed towards Captain Agron and his weapon Astarot.</p> <p>“My sister and I would also like to know the current state of Hy-Brasil. While we have access to the observatory and the Observer’s Eye, we have just been too afraid to find out for ourselves. Our deaths are a touchy subject for us after all.” Elewynn said, as she and Erelynn looked to each other uneasily.</p> <p>Asheworth, Rivera, and Halloran glanced at each other for several seconds before they looked back to the Changelings.</p> <p>“Give us a moment.” Rivera said, as she and Asheworth gestured the others to group together as they took a moment to discuss Queen Áine and her companions’ requests.</p> <p>After a minute of few moments of discussion, they split and Asheworth walked toward Queen Áine.</p> <p>“Áine Lurline Tanaquill… we accept your offer.”</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> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc2"><span>22nd of March</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-120">Site-120</a>, Częstochowa, Poland</strong></span></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <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 class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> <span class="wiki-email">tni.10.etis\|cilbup.dnammoc.hctawrevo#tni.10.etis\|cilbup.dnammoc.hctawrevo</span><br/> <strong>From:</strong> <span class="wiki-email">tni.021.etis\|htrowehsa.d#tni.021.etis\|htrowehsa.d</span><br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Fata Morgana Alliance Proposal</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Overseers,</p> <p>I am sending this message to inform you that the expedition into SCP-3903 was a success. Thanks to SCP-7629-ARTHUR accompanying my team, we were able to gain entry into Fata Morgana. Once in the city, we were fortunate to gather much information in regards to both the culture and thaumaturgical capabilities of the city, the Fae inhabiting it, and the purpose of the SCP-3903-A instances. I also wish to advise you we have managed to discover information we believe is of high importance. Attached is a documentation of all the information we’ve acquired within SCP-3903, as well as connected historical knowledge shared with us from Olivié Gwyneth.<br/> I must also inform you that the leader of SCP-3903 has agreed to a partnership between the SCP Foundation and the City of Arcadia. This partnership has been agreed upon under the following conditions:</p> <ul> <li>Fata Morgana will remain partially outside of baseline reality until a time where it believes the world is <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub">in a state suitable for its return</a>. However, the Foundation will have personal access to return to Fata Morgana through private and secure way-lines. The city of Arcadia will also be given access as part of the partnership between the Lady Titania Queen Áine Lurline Tanaquill and the Vajra King Ragna Von Morrowind.</li> <li>Any thaumaturgical technology and materials, along with any historical documentation and artifacts the Foundation wishes to access must first be brought up to the Lady Titania’s court for approval.</li> <li>Fata Morgana is to be granted Free Port status.</li> <li>All Foundation personnel who wish to enter Fata Morgana must remove all identifying items showing their connection to the Foundation to prevent provoking any Otherkin who still show hostility towards the Foundation.</li> <li>All reported instances of 3903-A are to be brought to Fata Morgana as soon as possible.</li> <li>Any Eshu-entities which have managed to escape from <strong><span style="color: green">The ever expansive plain of greenery</span></strong> through the theft of another entity’s name must be brought to Fata Morgana immediately for protection.</li> <li>The Fae of Esterberg and the remaining inhabitants of Hy-Brasil will be granted safe means to travel to Fata Morgana, on the condition that the only means of travel are located within the aforementioned Free Ports, and for them to have security measures to prevent any possibilities of hostile entities entering the city.</li> <li>Fata Morgana shall be allowed to research why all means to restore Hy-Brasil have failed thus far, and how to prevent future failures. They will also assist in restoration once a successful permanent process has been discovered. In addition, they will also be allowed to research means to restore the stability of the kingdom of Avalon.</li> </ul> <p>Sincerely,<br/> Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Site Director, Site-120</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="email"> <div class="tofrom"> <p><strong>To:</strong> <span class="wiki-email">tni.021.etis\|htrowehsa.d#tni.021.etis\|htrowehsa.d</span><br/> <strong>From:</strong> <span class="wiki-email">tni.10.etis\|cilbup.dnammoc.hctawrevo#tni.10.etis\|cilbup.dnammoc.hctawrevo</span><br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Re:Fata Morgana Alliance Proposal</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Dr. Daniel Asheworth,</p> <p>We have reviewed the forwarded information as well as the alliance proposal and the terms of conditions set forth by the governing power of SCP-3903.<br/> In regard to the many major benefits it offers to both the SCP Foundation and the success of Directive Alpha/1911, The O5 Council has chosen to agree to the conditions of the Lady Titania “hereafter referred to as SCP-3903-NU”, and authorize the partnership between the Foundation and the city of Fata Morgana.<br/> We are looking forward to hearing back from you regarding the results of this alliance.</p> <p>Sincerely,<br/> Overwatch Command, O5-5</p> </div> <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="/the-lost-spire-part-2">The Lost Spire, Part 2</a>" by WarriorofChaos, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-lost-spire-part-2">https://scpwiki.com/the-lost-spire-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> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> City-Towers.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/34907359@N08/24370953033">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Lake-Fountains.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=94358254">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Lush-Park.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77360325">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Spire-Lobby.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-NC-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/61683005@N00/3300475546">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Sky-View.jpg<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/67069761@N06/8687954327">Flickr Image 1</a><br/> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Starry_sky_at_Mount_Rinjani,_Lombok_island.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 1</a><br/> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mineral_moon_t%C3%B5rva.jpg">Wikimedia Commons Image 2</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:foxtrot">:scp-wiki:theme:foxtrot</a> poland=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:fade-in">:scp-wiki:component:fade-in</a> speed=1]] [[module CSS]] .email-example .collapsible-block-folded a.collapsible-block-link { animation: blink 0.8s ease-in-out infinite alternate; } @keyframes blink { 0% { color: transparent; } 50%, 100% { color: #b01; } } .email {border: solid 2px #000000; width: 88%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.5)} .email-example a.collapsible-block-link {font-weight: bold;} .tofrom {margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 1px 15px; border-left: solid 3px maroon} [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=WarriorofChaos \|center=]] = The Lost Spire (Part 2)* by [[user WarriorofChaos]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote" style="width: intrinsic; width: -moz-max-content; width: -webkit-max-content; text-align:center; margin: 10px auto;"]] [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSqttgJRud8 Recommended reading music] [[/div]] @@ @@ ---- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] + 2008 [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ 21st of March [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]Fata Morgana: The realm between Gaia's plain and the unknown beyond[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- The city of Fata Morgana. It was, without a doubt, the most incredible sight any of them had ever seen. Rivera was absolutely amazed by Fata Morgana’s design and personality. It looked exactly as Gwyneth described it. All of the buildings were constructed from silver and crystal, and had highly decorative trimmings and arches covered in gold and alabaster. Many tall towers and skyscrapers could be seen for miles. Now that she had a closer look at the buildings, she noticed the architectural style resembled Celtic designs with subtle traces of Indo-Islamic, yet it still retained the Fae architectural styling that she was familiar with. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/City-Towers.jpg style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ They also took notice of the many figures soaring high in the sky. Changelings of all ages, flying without a care, family and friends enjoying themselves in the air. “Marvelous, absolutely marvelous! A work of art in itself.” King Ragna exclaimed in delight, highly impressed and fascinated by the city’s design. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again… I feel like we’re at the gates of Heaven.” Halloran said as he took in the sights before him. “I definitely need to document all this!” He exclaimed, before he pulled out his digital camera and began taking multiple photographs of his surroundings. They managed to catch up to Artoria and Gwyneth, as Artoria was currently giving orders to her squad, who then saluted her before soaring off in the direction of the colossal palace in the distance. She then turned to them before speaking. “I’ve sent my squad to inform our queen of your arrival. She had a strong feeling that the lullaby was played, and is currently awaiting my return.” “We understand. I’m sure she has a lot to talk about with us, just as we do with her.” Asheworth replied as he continued to look around, basking in his surroundings. “Indeed. Until then, I will guide you and allow you to view the many sights of our homeland. I’ll also answer any questions that I can. However, some of them I humbly request you save for her grace to answer.” Artoria replied with a nod. “Great, because I have a ton of questions I’d like answered. Would you mind if I also interview you on the way there?” Gwyneth asked as she held her video camera in Artoria’s direction. “As long as I can answer them, it wouldn’t be a problem for me. Now then, let us be on our way.” They all continued to follow Artoria as they passed many massive buildings, along with a few smaller settlements. Halloran continued to take many photos as they followed. Aside from the architecture, he noticed the attire of the citizens. They were all dressed in lovely sparkling reflective clothing made of a silky material, mainly white with traces of other colors. The males wore long-sleeved waist high tunics with a high collar, and ankle length pants, some also wore a long sash over their tunic. The females were garbed in gossamer long bell-sleeved dresses, some were knee length, and some were floor length and they dragged along the ground. One noticeable feature was that no one wore any footwear, A few wore ankle length silk stirrups, but the rest were completely barefoot. Normally Halloran wouldn’t question cultural fashion sense, but he couldn’t help but be curious. So, he went up to Artoria for answers. “Say, I’ve got a question for you. Now this might seem random, but why don’t any of you wear shoes?” Artoria gave him a confused look before she looked down to their feet then back to him. “This? It is simply our custom to be unshod. It represents how we wish to live in harmony and equality with nature and progress, as well as embracing both peace and purity.” “Speaking of customs, it was stated that Fata Morgana followed the ways of The Inventor and was therefore free of the corruptive influence of Mab. Is this true?” Gwyneth asked as she continued recording. “It is indeed true. The Inventor herself was the one who orchestrated the construction of Fata Morgana, intended to be a sanctuary of peace and equality, a metropolis that was clean and untouched by The Undoer’s wicked ideals. This is why we bowed to her, because it was her will that breathed life into the city.” Artoria answered, as she spoke with great reverence. “So your city was, in a sense, independent from the rest of the empire?” Captain Agron asked, as he joined in asking questions of Artoria. “It was somewhat, in the beginning, but we still had support from both the common peoples and the wealthy. But it eventually became fully independent, for out of spite and jealousy, Mab chose to separate the city from the rest of the empire, and isolated us within as a sign of defiance against those who would question or defy her ways. She hated Fata Morgana just as much as she hated her sister, and so did not accept it as part of her kingdom, even though everyone else did.” Artoria answered, as she spoke with great disdain. Gwyneth seemed greatly pleased by the answer, as she laughed, and fist pumped her free hand. “Yes, I was right! That must mean the same thing also applied to anything that came from the city, yes?” “Indeed. We had to reclaim everything that was created within Fata Morgana, because we knew Mab would most likely destroy them just to spite her sister. It’s very likely she succeeded in destroying some items, but we often made duplicates to ensure such works didn’t end up lost to time. All of the art pieces, literary works, and songs that we’ve ever created now resides within our many museums and music halls.” Artoria responded, in a tone that implied she was feeling disappointment. “It is truly a shame, all of these wonders we have created, and nobody in the outside world remembers them.” “Hold on a second. You said //all// of your artifacts were reclaimed, but we found a painting of Fata Morgana in the ruins of the empire’s royal repository. Not only that, but it had a note that told us how to summon the city. Why would that painting be in there if everything you created was taken back, and why would it have that note? What happened to this place in the past?” Asheworth asked Artoria, as he felt there were some things that didn’t make sense or hadn’t yet been answered. “I’ve been meaning to ask that as well. Legends said that Fata Morgana suddenly disappeared on the day the two queens fought. Completely vanished. Why?” Rivera asked, as eager for the answers as Asheworth was. Artoria was silent for a few seconds, as she looked down at the ground with a somber expression. “…I believe it would be better for our queen to answer those questions.” She held her somber expression for a few moments, before it shifted to a more pleasant one. “But enough questions of the past, let’s focus on questions of the present. Also take time to bask in your surroundings.” They then reached an interchange of bridge walkways, all over a large lake filled with glistening water, its channels breaking off into deeper parts of the city. Many Changelings were looking over the railways enjoying the view, while some were flying over the water. Suddenly, on the right edge of the lake, jets of water shot up in the air from several areas of the lake. One male Changeling got his face soaked as a fountain erupted right below him. His female companion laughed loudly. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Lake-Fountains.jpg style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ What caught the group’s attention the most was on the left side of the lake. Several Changelings were riding small boats on the water, both individually and in groups. The boats had a regal and fantastical design, resembling a medieval or 16th century sailboat. However, the boats appeared advanced in as much as they were outfitted with outboard engines of some sorts, and the sails seemed to be only decorative as they were made of some form of penetrable hard light. “Are those motorboats?” Rivera asked. They then heard humming from above. When they looked up, they saw a trio of aircrafts flying above the buildings, all very advance in design and varying in shape and size. One was vivid white and covered in golden decals. The body was a teardrop shape with four wings, two large wings in the front and two smaller ones in the back. Another looked like a platinum colored helicopter, but instead of blades, it had four long wings similar to a jet plane in an X formation. The last one resembled something straight out of a space fighter science fiction film. A purple vertical pill shaped body with two curved tear shaped front arms, and two back legs in the shape of medieval shields. “Air vehicles?” Halloran questioned with surprise. They then focused to Artoria’s crescent staff. Now that they had a closer view of it, not only was it highly detailed with engravings and embedded jewels, but they also noticed the channels flowing with thaumaturgical energy, starting from the fancy pommel piece at the bottom and ending at the tip of the blade. a faint glow also emanated from the edged of the blade. Thinking quickly, Asheworth pulled out his EESPR and scanned the weapon, the readings showed it was flowing and emitting EVE. “Thaumaturgic technology… They’re advanced.” Asheworth said in astonishment, realizing that Fata Morgana had become an advanced civilization. Artoria overheard this and decided to reply. “Why yes, you are surprised that we have our own technology? I mean it’s only logical that overtime we would become a more advanced culture and create our own technology, especially after thousands of years. Because we always valued the art and beauty of magic, we chose to center our technology around it. Every device you’ll find in the city is powered and energized through mana, collected and studied for countless generations.” “You found the means to utilize mana as an energy source? Highly impressive! Though it is a common practice that one can use mana to empower and enchant other living things or objects, never have it been done on this level before! Not even my home of Arcadia has yet to reach this level.” King Ragna stated, visibly amazed at the level of progress the Fae of Fata Morgana had reached. “Yeah, how did you do it? What’s the secret?” Gwyneth asked excitedly. Artoria answered by flipping the staff upside down then twisting the ring on the pommel, activating a mechanism that made it open like a budding flower. Inside was an ornately glowing pink crystal. It rippled and glistened with energy and a hypnotic light. “This is a mana crystal. Seven thousand years ago, one of the Spire Court’s most enlightened scholars made a hypothesis. If all living things were capable of generating mana, and some materials could conduct mana, then would it not be possible for there to exist or even create objects that could emit mana? So, they began researching and experimenting in order to discover the means to create a substance capable of emanating its own mana. Eventually, after much struggle and from studying the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1000 Yeren’s] biomancy, they succeeded in creating these! Organic crystals capable of generating mana. They are easy to grow, and depending on the color, as well as the quality or size, can last for years.” “That’s incredible! Such a mineral could bring the study of thaumaturgy to a whole new level!” Asheworth exclaimed, genuinely astonished by the information Artoria just shared. If the Foundation had access to such a resource, the breakthroughs they can achieve in thaumaturgical studies would be immense. As Artoria closed the pommel, Gwyneth noticed something familiar about the metal. She realized her weapon and portions of her armor were not only created with a similar metal, but resembled a metal she was quite familiar with. She wondered how she didn’t notice it before. “Wait a minute, your weapon and armor, is that… irrilite?” Artoria looked down at her armor and at her weapon before looking back to Gwyneth. “Fortunately, they are, yes.” “Fortunately? What does that mean?” Rivera asked. “I mean my weapon and armor are indeed made of irrilite, but it is no longer available in the abundance it once was.” Artoria responded as she began waving and caressing the blade of her staff. “We once had a large amount of pure irrilite in the past, however, over time, our supply of it had begun to dwindle quickly in more recent years. This concerned us greatly. Thankfully however, we found a solution.” “Which was?” Halloran asked. “Through our research, we found that yttrium becomes very strong and magically conductive when polished with a slurry made from powdered mana crystal. We refer to this super yttrium as morgana silver. While inferior in power, it has allowed us to slow the decrease of our precious irrilite enough that we can ensure it will remain available to us for centuries to come. We limit our use of irrilite only for the most important or dire circumstances.” Artoria stated. She ushered them to continue forward. “Let us continue. We do not want to keep her grace waiting.” After admiring the view of the lake and the boats for a few more seconds, they continued on their way through the city. During their walk, they came across many other sights that caught their attention, all of them captured on footage by Gwyneth and Halloran. They walked through one of the many parks in the city, which much like the rest of the city, matched the description in the spire tome. The trees resembled a cross between an //Alstonia scholaris// and a //Bluewood Condalia//. As they walked, the soft wind rustled the trees, resulting in a sound resembling a windchime or a harp. It was a very lush and beautiful environment, filled with healthy grass and flower fields. They saw many Changelings enjoying themselves, from families having picnics, to couples enjoying a stroll. During the walk, Halloran thought he must be imagining things when he saw what looked like a man in a tuxedo with the head of a white rabbit sitting at a table drinking tea. He wasn’t sure if what he saw was real or not, but just in case, he would mention it when they arrived at their destination. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Lush-Park.jpg style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ They then passed some sort of musical concert. There was a crowd gathered around a stage, where a group of Changelings in flashy and whimsical clothing were playing decorated instruments. There were fancy and dazzling lights effects added to make the show more exciting. The music being played seemed to be a blend of pop and classical, and was both elegant and energetic. The crowd definitely enjoyed it as they cheered and even danced to the music, with some dancing a ballot in the sky. They eventually found themselves crossing through a market district. Many stands and establishments sold everything from exotic trinkets to delicious foods. The market was quite crowded, as many Changelings passed along the stands and made purchases. It wasn’t long before the crowd took notice of Artoria and with her guests. Many of them looked on in confusion and curiosity at Asheworth, Rivera and Halloran. Whether because some of them have never seen humans in the flesh before, or because they wondered why humans were in Fata Morgana. Gwyneth’s presence was not as startling, as she was a Fae just like them. But the fact that she was a //Sidhe// Fae and not a //Changeling// Fae was quite unusual. King Ragna and Captain Agron had caught the most attention and reaction. Completely unfamiliar with the Droganians and unaware of their connection to the Sky Keepers, the Changelings watched them with fascination. “Well, this is awkward.” Halloran said, as he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with everyone staring at them, some of them whispering to each other. “What did you expect? These people aren’t used to seeing humans here, so it’s only natural they’d be confused and feel uncomfortable.” Rivera stated to Halloran, already familiar with similar feelings. “Yeah, I guess you make a good point there.” Halloran replied, as he decided to continue photographing his surroundings, to the surprise of a number of the citizens. “All these faces looking upon us with amazement, yet none of them recognize us as those who helped their ancestors blossom.” King Ragna stated somberly, finding it a bit upsetting that the Fae here didn’t recognize his kind with their new forms, and thus a number looked upon them in worry. As they were walking through the market, they approached one stand where a Changeling vendor with a beard and balding head was preoccupied with counting his daily profits. Once he noticed the group, he initially was just as confused as the others, however, his eyes then caught sight of something familiar. An ID tag with a circular symbol with three arrows pointing inward. Seeing this symbol flooded his mind with very unpleasant memories, of a time of agony and unbearable self-unfamiliarity. This caused his blood to boil as he gnashed his teeth and exclaimed “YOU!” Everyone in the area was startled by the unexpected angry exclamation. They all turned to the vendor, who pointed straight at Asheworth and his Foundation colleagues. He then suddenly jumped out his booth and immediately tried to tackle them, only for Artoria to interfere as she pushed him back with her staff. “What is the meaning of this?! Stand down!” Artoria demanded, as she continued to restrain him. “You bastards! You dare show yourselves here in this paradise?! You think I haven’t forgotten what you segregating tyrants have done?!” The vendor shouted as he continued his attempts to reach the humans. The ruckus had begun to attract a crowd, and the changelings were wondering what the angry commotion was about. “I said stand down! This is unacceptable behavior!” Artoria shouted, now getting annoyed at the man’s uncivilized behavior. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to experience what you did to me; do you know what if feels like?!” The vendor shouted as he continued to struggle, even as more guards arrived to assist in restraining him. “Having who you are forcibly ripped out of you, not remembering who you are or your true face?! Being trapped within ##green\|that damn endless purgatorial nightmare##, for 57 years?! I’ll never forgive you! You hear me?! When I get my hands on you, I’ll make you experience an agony you could never imagine, so violent and traumatizing it will make the Daevites look like hippies! I’ll have you—” He continued to shout before one of the guards pulled out a glittering blue powder and blew it into the vendor’s face. He coughed as his struggling began to diminish, and he slowly faded to unconsciousness. “Have him brought to the courthouse for questioning once he awakens. Make sure to have a plentiful supply of tranquil dust on hand should he become agitated.” Artoria ordered the guards, as she stood upright and dusted herself off. “Yes captain!” A female guard said, as they began to fly off with the man in tow. Artoria turned her attention to the uneasy crowd, and Asheworth’s group who looked confused and uncomfortable. “All right everyone, break it up! Nothing to see here, just a mere misunderstanding. Everything is under control. There’s nothing to be worried about. Carry on!” Artoria assured the crowd, who began to disperse and return to browsing the market. “That’s better.” “Um… What the hell was that?!” Halloran demanded, absolutely confused by the unexpected aggressiveness of the vendor. “Yeah, what exactly was he talking about? Is there something we should know about?” Asheworth questioned, now feeling suspicious and being left in the dark. Artoria sighed before responding. “I very much apologise, but for your sake I’d not have those badges to be visible for all to see while we are out in the open.” She said, as she pointed to Halloran’s Foundation ID tag. “Why not?” Rivera asked, also uncomfortable at the sudden outburst. “I’m sorry, but that is better being answered by our queen. We should get moving.” Artoria informed them, as she continued forward. The others follow her in silence. For the rest of their walk, not much was said after the unexpected hostility from the vendor. They chose to save asking about it until they met the city’s leader, but Asheworth and Rivera couldn’t stop thinking about the things that the vendor said in his outburst. “Daniel, that vendor back at the market, those things he said… It sounds like he was talking about—” Rivera whispered to Asheworth, who quickly responded back. “Yeah, I noticed it too. There’s something going on here in this city. Something bigger that the Foundation is somehow connected to.” “You might be right. Do you think it has anything to do with the 3903-A instances?” Rivera questioned back, agreeing with Asheworth that the Changelings were hiding something. “We’ll soon find out. For now, let’s stay quiet about it.” Asheworth instructed Rivera. “Alright.” They walked for fifteen minutes more as they continued to view the many sights within the city. They passed several more parks and other water bridges, as well as some type of water park which contained glistening pools and numerous structures similar to water slides. The Changelings present were wearing some type of swimwear. There was even a lazy river that went underground, with faint light and music emanating from the tunnel entrance. Viewing these beautiful sights helped the group feel more at ease, admiring how these people were living in a truly peaceful and wonderous place. Eventually they finally reached their destination as Artoria led them to an absolutely incredible sight. They found themselves in front of the colossal palace that was visible from outside the city, and it was a truly unbelievable sight to behold. The palace was megalithic in size, possibly the largest structure to have ever been built. It had to be a thousand meters in both width and length. It retained the same architectural styling as all the other buildings in Fata Morgana, but with a more regal and aristocratic appearance. The design of the palace resembled a cross between the Taj Mahal, the Sagrada Família, the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, and the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. It was flanked on all sides by multiple towers, all slightly taller than the main portion of the palace. However, the most noticeable feature of the structure was the immensely tall spire-like tower perched directly atop the center of the palace. It was so tall and slim that it not only rose above the clouds, but it seemed almost impossible for it to remain stationary without some form of support. While barely visible, there seemed to be an observation deck at the top. “Holy shit, look at the size of it!” Halloran exclaimed, dumbstruck and overwhelmed by the size of the structure. “It’s huge! I don’t think such a structure of this size has ever been documented or discovered before.” Rivera said as she stared at the palace in awe. “The Titania Spire…” Gwyneth said, as she had to crane her neck back to capture the entire structure on her video camera. “Truly incredible! It greatly warms my heart to see how much your civilization has prospered.” King Ragna remarked towards Artoria. “The Titania Spire is the pride and heart of Fata Morgana, constructed by the greatest architects of the Fae Empire to ever live. The outside is indeed glorious, but it is even more magnificent on the inside. Let us proceed. We don’t want to keep her grace waiting.” Artoria said as she ushered them in. She led them through the massive golden doors, held ajar for them by palace guards. Once they passed through the doors, they were met with a massive, bustling glittering lobby lined with marble columns and a polished quartz floor heavily detailed in colorful patterns. There were many beautifully carved murals on every side of the chamber, each depicting Fae figures in either nature or city environments. In the center, surrounded by water fountains and flower bed displays, was a decorated cylindrical column that rose to the ceiling with a door in the center. It was revealed to be an elevator as the doors opened and a group of Changelings came out and another group went in. Looking up, they could see there were many more floors within the structure, each taking the form of a ring-shaped balcony with four walkways leading to the center elevator. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Spire-Lobby.jpg style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ “Well, I can say you were right about it being just as amazing on the inside.” Asheworth said, as he admired the room’s décor. “May I ask, why would you need an elevator if you can fly? I’ve also been meaning to ask the same thing about the aircrafts as well.” Halloran asked Artoria as he glanced at the aforementioned elevator. “While our wings may be strong and flowing with mana, they are just like any other muscle or limb of our body. Eventually they get tired and need a break. It also eases the burden on carrying heavy loads to higher areas!” Artoria answered Halloran. “Okay, you make a good point.” “Speaking of the elevator, let us make our way to the royal chambers.” Artoria said, as she ushered them all toward the elevator. Once in front of the sliding doors, she pressed one of many glowing sigils on the side, choosing the one that had an insignia resembling a tiara. After several seconds, the elevator doors opened, and they all entered as the doors closed behind them. To their surprise, the elevator’s interior was much larger than it appeared on the outside, big enough to fit a small crowd. “A non-euclidean spaced elevator? Impressive.” Asheworth said, as he admired the elevator as they ascended. “If I may, before we meet face to face, what can you tell us about your monarch? Not to sound like I am making accusations, but considering this city was a part of the Fae Empire and knowing of one of their rulers…" Captain Agron asked Artoria, as he felt cautious and unsure of their meeting with the city’s queen. “I assure you her highness is a benevolent and kind individual, with a pure heart and soul. She is a sweet and caring ruler who ensures the happiness and safety of not only her people here, but for Fae of all kinds. She is also one who can see the good in all souls, and knows when one is deserving of forgiveness for any wrongdoing. She is in all ways a mirror image of the beauty and kindness of the Inventor, in more ways than you can fathom!” Artoria retorted back to Captain Agron, slightly offended by his assumptions. Captain Agron was slightly taken back by this response, but he straightened himself and cleared his throat. “…Forgive me, I did not mean to offend you in any way. I just wanted to be sure there was nothing to be concerned about before we meet your queen. I am simply considering the safety of my liege.” “I accept your apology, and I understand as we both are the most trusted guards to our leaders.” Artoria assured him, understanding Agron’s reasoning.” The elevator then stopped, as the doors opened into a hallway lined with lush flower beds and paintings of regal Fae figures. As they walked down the hallway, one of the paintings caught Gwyneth’s attention. It depicted a Sidhe Fae woman with golden hair with silver highlights. She was wearing a regal green dress with white bell sleeves and an unusual necklace. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-enlightened-children It was a golden charm with a red gem and a dragon shaped motif in the center]. But the most eye-catching detail was the floating crown composed of gears hovering above her head. “Is that…?” Gwyneth whispered to herself in question, as she looked at the painting in familiarity. Two other paintings also caught her attention. The first one featured the same woman with her hands clasping the hands of a male Changeling Fae with short brown combed hair and sky-blue eyes. He was wearing a decorated tunic and cape along with a sapphire encrusted silver crown. Both were smiling in the painting, which made it give off a very romantic vibe. The second one depicted the Fae king holding an infant wrapped up in a white blanket. She had golden locks of hair peeking out of the blanket around her forehead. “…What?” Gwyneth questioned, with a look of shock and confusion at what she was viewing in the paintings. Her thoughts were interrupted however by the sound of a female voice singing. It was getting louder as they approached the end of the hallway, where a set of incredibly ornate platinum doors stood before them. “Here we are, the royal chamber.” Artoria said, as she then opened the doors and led them inside. The room was a large domed chamber where a star-shaped chandelier hung from the ceiling. The chandelier also held smaller star themed decorations. The area was overflowing with many colorful plants and flowers along the walls. The chamber had the overall feeling of a garden. Numerous butterflies fluttered in the air, over the lights and around the plants. They didn’t resemble any currently known species, as their large wings were a sun yellow with a blue, white, and pink diamond pattern that resembled stained glass. A faint trail of sparkles coming from their wings as they fluttered in the air was also visible. Finally, they noticed the source of the singing. At the end of the room, a throne similar to a hammock chair was suspended from a gazebo covered in flora and surrounded by lavender grass. Perched on the throne with her eyes closed was a Changeling woman with waist length golden blonde silky hair. She wore a white elegant gossamer dress with angel sleeves and gold trimmings and a long train. Her gown had golden shoulder guards and she wore glimmering full length fingerless gloves. Much like all the other Fae in the city, her feet were bare, with the exception of thigh high white stirrups which matched with her gloves. Perched on her head was a platinum tiara adorned with bright pink flowers, and a set of decorative silver inlayed gold Fae wings on the sides. Although she also wore several gold jewelry pieces, her wings were her most beautiful trait. They were large and glittering, light gold in color and emitted a white shimmering light. Their stained-glass pattern made them look mesmerizing as the wings pulsed with colors. She was beautiful, young and flawless. Combined with her natural beauty and elegant attire, she resembled an angel more than a Fae. She was singing to a group of small children. The song she was singing was an extended variant of the same song that was on the note that summoned the city. Besides her were two female twins. Both had blue eyes and midnight blue long hair, although the one on the right’s skin had a more purple tint compared to the blue of her twin. They both wore gossamer gowns and laurel crowns. The one on the left played a golden harp, while the one on the right played a velvet ocarina. Artoria loudly cleared her throat before speaking. “My queen, I have returned with the strangers.” The queen stopped singing and opened her eyes, revealing them to be sky-blue and sparkling, as she along with the twins and children looked at Artoria and the others. “That will be all for now children, we will continue later at another time. You may return to your parents.” The queen softly said to the group of children, who immediately rushed past Asheworth and the others, giggling as they ran through the doors. She then stood from her throne and approached the group, walking on her toes with a graceful and soft step as the twins followed her. Artoria turned to the others as she bowed her head and held her arm out to the queen. “Presenting her majesty, the Lady Titania of Fata Morgana, Queen Áine Lurline Tanaquill.” Queen Áine stood before them as she spread her arms out with a slight bow. “I have been expecting your arrival. Welcome to my home. I hope the trip and sights were to your liking.” “Indeed, they were. Your city is quite a sight. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” Rivera said, bowing her head as a show of respect. “Fata Morgana’s beauty knows no boundaries, for it is felt within the currents of time and the will of the soul. I see you’ve already met my captain of the guard, Artoria.” Queen Áine replied. “Yes, your highness. She has shown us around the city, and answered several questions we’ve had.” Gwyneth said, as she moved forward. “It is an honor to meet you. My name is Olivié Gwyneth, a Fae historian.” “A great pleasure it is to have you here my dear. It has been so long since a Sidhe Fae has walked within Fata Morgana. Tell me, are you the one who played Morgana’s Lullaby?” Queen Áine greeted Gwyneth, with an unexpected soft embrace that made Gwyneth slightly blush before she let go. “No, your highness, the one you want is him.” Gwyneth said as she pointed to King Ragna. “Oh, you must be the one that my guards informed me of. The one whose people descended from the Sky Keepers of old. Droganians I believe is what they said, yes?” Queen Áine said as she approached King Ragna, showing signs of excitement and curiosity. “You are correct, Queen Áine. My people survived Mab’s purge and still walk this Earth, evolved into a new people. My name is Ragna Von Morrowind, Vajra King of the city of Arcadia. It is an honor to be welcomed to your magnificent metropolis.” King Ragna introduced himself, as he took Queen Áine’s right hand and softly kissed it as a respectful gesture. “I must speak in gratitude as well. Captain Agron, his trusted commander of the Droganian Army.” Captain Agron said as he placed his hand on his heart. “The gratitude is mine, knowing all that your ancestors have done for my people in ancient times. I do wish to hear much about your people and this Arcadia.” Queen Áine said to King Ragna, before her attention was drawn back to Asheworth and his companions. “Of course, let us not forget our human guests. You are the first humans I have ever seen in person.” “I am sure a lot of the people here feel the same way. I am Daniel Asheworth. These are my colleagues Jessie Rivera and Chris Halloran. We’re researchers from—” Asheworth replied as he began introducing himself and his colleagues, before he was interrupted by the blue twin. “The SCP Foundation.” This of course, surprised and shocked the team as they stared at her with wide eyes. “What? How do you know that?!” Halloran exclaimed in confusion. “Because she has met your people before. I’m Erelynn Levainn, and this is my sister Elewynn. We are her majesties’ royal minstrels.” The purple twin, now known as Erelynn answered. “She has? How?” Gwyneth asked. “Because I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your organization, you brought me here.” Elewynn responded as she moved to stand next to her sister. Hearing this, Asheworth immediately put two and two together. “You were a 3903-A weren’t you? An Otherkin.” “My sister and I both are actually; I was first, and she came much later.” Erelynn said. “So, you two used to be human?” Rivera asked. “No, they were always Fae, but it wasn’t until they returned to this city, that they were truly Fae once more.” Queen Áine said as she placed her hands on the twins’ shoulders. “What does that even mean? In fact, I think now would be a good time to stop with the pleasantries and get some answers from you. Because we have many questions.” Halloran stated as he walked up to Queen Áine and looked her in the eyes. “I know that you have questions, and I promise all of them will be answered. But first I must ask questions of my own. Firstly, why have you come to Fata Morgana?” Queen Áine asked them, as she stepped back a bit and looked at everyone in Asheworth’s group. “A day ago, we discovered the royal repository of the Fae Empire. Inside we found numerous artifacts, but the most notable is a painting depicting this very building. Thanks to Ms. Gwyneth here, we were able to learn about the legend of Fata Morgana and how it disappeared.” Asheworth informed Queen Áine, as he and Rivera moved to the front of the group. “Not only that, but the painting secretly contained a note that stated if we played this //Morgana’s Lullaby// as you called it, it would summon the ancient city. However, that begs numerous questions. Why was that painting in the repository in the first place? Artoria confirmed that all relics and works made in Fata Morgana were reclaimed so Mab wouldn’t destroy them. If that’s true, why was that painting in there, and why did it have that note with instructions to bring back the city, and most importantly… what happened to Fata Morgana? Why did it disappear?” Rivera chimed in as she also began laying out the main questions of interest. Queen Áine was quiet for several seconds, as she looked at the ground with a somber expression. She then finally looked back up to them and spoke. “The Inventor.” “The Inventor?” Gwyneth asked. “She is not only the reason that this city came to be, but she is also the reason why it vanished and has not been seen since. However, it was to protect us and the ones she loved.” Queen Áine stated, as she looked up to the ceiling. “Protect? From what, and how?” Halloran questioned. “To protect us from Mab in case she fell. You see, the Inventor didn’t just guard and watch over the city because she helped create it and cared for its people, but because she cared for its governing ruler more than anything else in the world. The first lord of Fata Morgana, Adresin Balloer. He and the Inventor actually knew each other since their youth and were very close, so much so it was believed that they were having an affair in secret. No one, not even Mab herself knew about it, or as it was assumed.” Queen Áine began explaining. “When the time came for her to face Mab and put an end to her tyranny, she first came here to Fata Morgana, to Adresin and gave him a crystal flower and her greatest treasure. She then told him, demanded of him, that he hide the city from the world, to send it somewhere else, beyond this realm where it be isolated and safe, and to wait there until it could return. The crystal flower reflected her lifeforce. She told Adresin that if the flower was still healthy and strong when the hour of midnight struck, then it would mean that she survived and that it was safe for the city to return. However, if it were to wilt, crumble and shatter, then it meant she had sadly perished, slain by her wretched twin. If that were to happen, then the city would remain hidden, separated from the world until the day came when Mab was no more, and the world was once again pure and tranquil.” Queen Áine stopped for a few seconds before she continued “To let it be known that day had come, she secretly took one piece of work from Fata Morgana back with her, slipped a hymn sheet with a message in her writing, and stored it in the empires’ vault of treasures to be found by the ones from this bright new world, so they could bring back the silver towers. She also made him promise that if the latter possibility did come to pass, he would not only protect Fata Morgana and its people, but would also protect and cherish her greatest treasure. Her most prized possession, the one thing that she cherished and loved just as much as Adresin, maybe even more. He swore on their love that he would, for it was his greatest treasure too.” “Isolation… into a separate reality.” Asheworth exclaimed, now that the mystery of the city’s fate was answered. They intentionally separated the city from baseline reality to ensure its survival, thus turning into a nexus. “So, The Inventor was in love with the king? That’s quite a surprise.” Halloran exclaimed, interested by the new information. “Actually, that brings up a question, what was this great treasure of hers? I was told that it was theorized that the Inventor entrusted something to the city, but what exactly was it? Also, what exactly do you mean it was Adresin’s greatest treasure too?” Rivera asked, as she pondered what the treasure might be. Surprisingly, Queen Áine didn’t have to answer Rivera, as Gwyneth’s eyes widened as she came to a sudden realization. “A child…” “What?” Rivera asked, as she barely heard Gwyneth. “Those paintings in the hall, one of them depicted who I assume was Adresin, and he was holding a baby girl. The greatest treasure… it was a child, the Inventor and Adresin’s child!” Gwyneth explained. Asheworth and the others looked shocked as they looked to Queen Áine for clarification. She smiled in response. “Your friend is indeed correct. The treasure was her daughter, Ariel… my ancestor.” “…Oh my god!” Halloran said, as he placed his hand on his forehead and stared off into the distance, trying to absorb what had just been revealed. “I-I don’t know what to say.” Asheworth stated. “Don’t worry, that is pretty much everyone’s reaction when they find out.” Elewynn stated with a look of slight amusement. “It was quite a surprise to us when we first found out as well.” Erelynn followed up. “But… I don’t understand. How can this be?! This is just so sudden! I mean, neither I nor anyone else has ever found any relics or documents that implies the Inventor had a child!” Gwyneth ranted, as she was overwhelmed by the fact that not only was The Inventor a mother, but that the woman standing in front of them was a descendant. “That is because she did not want anyone to know. She feared that if Mab were to find out her sister was gravid, she would harm or kill the child, or do something far worse such as place a curse on her while she was still in the womb. Mab would have done so as she would see the child as a potential threat to her power should they mature. So, the Inventor kept the truth hidden from the rest of the empire. She even went so far as to use powerful illusions on herself to hide her development, although, she was getting concerned that Mab may have already had suspicions. Luckily however, Ariel was born at early dawn on the very day the Inventor would face Mab. She entrusted Adresin, as the father, to protect and care for Ariel if she did not return from her confrontation with Mab. Of course, she never did.” Queen Áine stated somberly, which is understandable as she spoke of her beloved and legendary ancestor. “Do not let her passing sadden you. You should know that thanks to her sacrifice, her people were freed from her sister’s evil ways. Look at the city you stand in now. It is a paradise! She ensured it survived and it is a symbol that not all the Fae Empire was corrupt. You and your ancestors have even ensured it prospered into such a beautiful and peaceful place. I’m sure the Inventor is watching you from beyond… and is truly proud of you.” King Ragna said, as he placed his hand on Queen Áine’s shoulder and comforted her. “Speaking of which, if I may interject, I do have a concern that you could perhaps address. During our travels through the city, I noticed all your guards carry magical mana charged weaponry, and saw one of the sigils for the elevator resembled a sword. If I were to guess, I assume this would be an armory. Also, I must state that Artoria and her comrades first reacted to us with caution and signs of unease, stating they did not know if we were a threat. So, I must ask, why this assumption of possible hostility, and why have weapons? Are you not a peaceful people?” Captain Agron stepped in and questioned Queen Áine. “We are, and always have been.” She then sighed before continuing. “Unfortunately, when we separated the city to the space beyond this realm, we did not expect there would be forces and horrors on the outside. Hordes of lifeforce draining demons, soulless abominations that knew only destruction, unspeakable malevolent beings that can break the mind like the stone against glass, and [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3930 formless specters ripped between existence and the void that howl and rage with no clarity]. To defend ourselves from these threats, we decided to focus on the development of our military prowess, to ensure that Fata Morgana and its people would never become prey for the wretches from beyond. We amassed a strong army, designed durable battle armor, and constructed great war machines and powerful weapons, all for the sake of protecting our home and ensuring peace for us all from the wicked and the abominable. We are a peaceful people, but even the most tranquil of utopias must know when to prepare themselves for battle.” Queen Áine replied. “I see now, that is indeed a wise and responsible ideal to follow. Forgive me for my suspicions your grace.” Captain Agron stated, as he bowed his head as a gesture of apology. “I am relieved to know you are prepared should the need arise. You should stick to that ideal, because unfortunately, we summoned your city at the wrong time. The world is not in a state where your people can just roam freely—” He began to inform the queen, but he was interrupted by her as she cut him off. “I know of what you speak. You refer to the many dangers which still walk this earth, and of what the humans that control the world from the shadows refer to as The Veil… I also know that our people, the Fae have suffered a horrible tragedy, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-proposal where thousands of souls have been lost and stripped of their names, one that the ones known as The Foundation had a hand in].” Asheworth’s group was once again completely taken back, and their eyes widened by what Queen Áine had stated. “How… How do you know about all that?!” Rivera shouted in surprise at the queen’s awareness of the Veil and of the Third Diaspora Queen Áine looked to the Levainn twins and Artoria, giving them a nod and a look of assurance. They silently responded by shaking their heads in agreement. She then looked back to the others, as she began walking past them with the twins and Artoria following her, and waved her hand forward, ushering them to follow. “Come, there is something I must show you.” So, they followed her as she led them back to the elevator. Once at the elevator doors, she waved her hand above the panel of sigils, causing a larger yellow sigil in the shape of a globe to materialize. She pressed it and the doors opened. They all walked into the elevator and watched as the doors closed. They began to ascend, only this time at a much faster rate that went on for over a minute. The elevator finally stopped, and the doors opened. They now found themselves in a bright white domed chamber. It was mostly empty, except for several large bookcases, a number of unidentifiable machines, and a large statue depicting the Inventor located on the front wall. On the sides of the statue were large windows, revealing a beautiful starry sky, a cloud occasionally passing by, and a sea of lights at a far distance below. There was also a podium-like device made of irrilite and gold with a glass globe in the middle located in the center of the room. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/lost-utopia/Sky-View.jpg style="width: 625px; border: 8px solid #ffffff; box-shadow: 0 0 5px #999;"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ “Where are we now?” Gwyneth asked. “This is the Grand Observatory.” Queen Áine answered. “This is a very special room, as only the Lady Titania herself and a select few, including myself and the twins have access to it.” Artoria followed up. “An Observatory? But I don’t see anything that looks like a telescope.” Halloran stated as he looked around the room. “It is not meant for viewing the stars above, as there are no real astrological bodies in the space Fata Morgana occupies.” Queen Áine said, as she approached the podium. “Then what is it for?” Rivera asked, sensing they were about to see something incredible. “I shall show you.” Queen Áine replied, as she stood in front of the podium. She proceeded to operate a small spherical device on the side of the podium that turned, twisted, and rotated much like a Rubik’s Cube. After several seconds, she squeezed it as it began glowing a pink light, and the globe in the center of the podium began pulsating and rippling brightly in vibrant colors. Suddenly, a beam of energy and a huge diamond shaped projection materialized before them from the crystal on the front of the podium. It appeared to be a holographic screen as an image began to form. An aerial view of a large urban city was shown on the projection. “That’s… that’s Philadelphia!” Rivera stated in surprise, recognizing the location. Queen Áine then tapped the globe and the image changed to another. This time a Russian city. “Moscow.” Asheworth stated. She tapped the globe once again and the image changed to a beach with the city of Fata Morgana visible on the ocean’s surface. “Brzezno Beach, that’s where we came from.” Halloran stated, as he began putting the pieces together of the device’s functions. “This is a global surveillance system.” “You are indeed correct; this is the Eye of the Observer. It allows me to open a dimensional window that lets me view any location I desire. I am able to view anywhere above or below the surface of the Earth.” Queen Áine, stated as she changed the image again, now showing [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7600 an underground megalithic city with buildings made of metal and plants inhabited by millions of Yeren]. “Those are Yeren. What is that place?” Asheworth questioned, in shock at the image. “This is Druv’tuul, ancient subterranean home of the Yeren that was founded after the Day of Flowers. I believe your organization already discovered it several decades ago.” Queen Áine stated. “They did? I mean Asheworth and I were vaguely aware of the existence of a Yeren city, but never had any confirmation from the O5.” Rivera stated in surprise. “I think it would be best if the three of us didn’t mention seeing this when we leave.” Halloran suggested to Asheworth and Rivera, worried at the idea of punishment for discovering information likely above their clearance levels. “Agreed.” They both said in unison. “Absolutely fascinating! If you do not mind me asking, can you put in these coordinates?” King Ragna asked, as he whispered something into Queen Áine’s ear. “Very well.” Queen Áine said, as she changed the image yet again. It was another underground city, appearing to be still in some stages of development and improvement populated by Droganians. “This must be your home. Arcadia you said it is called, yes?” Queen Áine asked King Ragna, as she admired the architecture and the many Droganians flying in the air. “Indeed, Lady Áine. I hope you do not mind the numerous signs of construction and renovation, my people just started progressing to a more developed society a decade ago, after getting over a millennia-long period of paranoia.” King Ragna replied. “Amazing! So, this thing can view anywhere on Earth?” Gwyneth asked, as she was baffled by such a technological marvel. “Indeed, my dear. It can view any location above the surface, below it or even within the ocean’s depths.” Queen Áine said, as she then changed the image to show what appeared to be an underwater [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/system:page-tags/tag/orcadia Finfolk] city settlement deep beneath the sea. “It allows me to see everything that is occurring in the world, whether it be the lives of humans, or of the many other races that still thrive today.” “Amazing, I don’t think even the GOC has technology like this.” Gwyneth said in astonishment. "However, it is not limited to just Earth. It can also view neighboring pocket dimensions…” Queen Áine changed the image to a large highly developed city with amazing architectural structures that seemed to go on for miles. “That’s Three Portlands.” Gwyneth said. Queen Áine then changed the image to a city that Gwyneth, Asheworth, and Rivera knew all too well. “Esterberg…” Gwyneth said, as she was somewhat flattered that Queen Áine was familiar with her home. “…As well as separate dimensions.” Queen Áine stated as she changed the image to [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2264 a regal non-euclidean city with a yellow sky with black stars]. “This is indeed an incredible machine your highness. But considering what you told us you knew earlier, I’m guessing this machine is quite old.” Asheworth said, as he began to have an idea where Queen Áine was going with this demonstration. “You are correct. It has been used for eons by my ancestors to watch over the Earth. It was built a few hundred years after Fata Morgana vanished. Originally it was less powerful and could only view the Earth for a limited amount of time, but as we advanced over the millennia it was redesigned and modified into the device it is now.” Queen Áine stated, as she continued to shift the images to various locations. “Exactly… How much did you and your ancestors see with this, what events did you witness?” Rivera asked, as she was beginning to get the feeling that Queen Áine knew more than she was letting on. She then turned back to them with a serious expression, one of an old soul that has witnessed much more than we could ever imagine. “We’ve seen more than enough. We witnessed the time of the Yeren as they ruled the Earth and built their towers of vines and roots, then watched as the relentless spirit of The Undoer manipulated you humans into rising up, burning their empire to the ground and stealing the title of rulers of the Earth. We witnessed your many ancient cultures and societies as they rose, prospered, then fell. We witnessed the first great war of magic, where [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/church-of-the-broken-god-hub the metallic empire that followed the metal lord of intellect] clashed with [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub the benders of flesh and blood who praised their grand messiah who gained great power when they challenged the broodmare of flesh and infection]. We also watched when [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-pl-259 a descendant of Mab had set out to resurrect her empire and clashed with the kingdom of sorcerers who mastered the art of commanding thorns and roots soaked in the blood of their slaves].” “You and your ancestors witnessed many of ancient history’s greatest events, haven’t you?” Ashworth questioned Queen Áine. “We have, but not just of ancient history. We also watched, as out of fear and paranoia, your organizations of the shadows chose to isolate the magical world from your people, leading them to forget the past and letting most fade into myths or mere stories. We were watching as a nation, through the will of their power-hungry dictator, attempted to manipulate the laws of magic by seeking to re-create a being that would control the rules of human magic and bring it under their control, and saw as they failed and nearly led to you humans forever losing the chance to ever again experience the ancient arts.” Queen Áine stopped as she suddenly clenched her fists, and tears began to fall on her cheeks. “Then… I witnessed, when during the attempted siege on a black factory of pain and misery, many of my kind, many good Fae men, women and even children, were stripped of their identities and banished to ##green\|a land where those who forgotten themselves forever wander##. Friends lost, entire families torn apart… and they were unable to remember those that they wished to mourn.” The room was quiet, except for the quiet rustling of Queen Áine’s gown as she fell to her knees and began to weep with regret, pity, and remorse for all the poor souls who perished or were lost both physically and spiritually that day. Everyone watched with somber faces, feeling empathy for the monarch, as they watched her wipe away the tears streaming down her face. Rivera walked to Queen Áine, assisted her back up on her feet, and even helped wipe away her remaining tears. “I know you must feel terrible having to witness that. Nobody deserves to witness most of their kind disappear like that. I get the feeling you probably blame us for it. But you must understand, that was an accident and wasn’t even our doing. Mab, she—” Rivera was interrupted as Queen Áine held her hand up. “No, you are mistaken. I do not blame you, for I know it was Mab’s doing, through possession of one of your own. I do not hate you for what happened, because I know you did not mean it, and feel guilty for it, as I have seen your many attempts to make amends for the tragedy.” She then looked down to her feet as her somber expression returned. “In fact, the only person who should feel guilty is me. Because I could have saved them.” “So, why didn’t you? If you were aware of what was happening at the factory that day, then why didn’t you try to do anything to prevent the Third Diaspora?” Asheworth questioned, as he was confused about the queen’s lack of actions. “I tried, oh how I tried. The moment I saw what was occurring on the projection, and realized the presence that was buried underneath that horrible complex, I immediately rallied my entire armada and ordered them to prepare for our return to Earth to stand against the Undoer. I knew how to bring Fata Morgana back to Earth, since my family has passed on that knowledge for generations, since the time of Adresin and Ariel. But, by the time my army was prepared, and I was ready to perform the ritual… It was too late. We took too long, and we failed them.” Queen Áine was silent for several seconds, before her expression shifted to one of determination and commitment. “But I refused to give up! I may not have been able to help them before, but I am able to at least help them now!” “How?” Gwyneth asked, wondering how Fata Morgana could possibly help ##bf59bf\|those of blank personas in the woods##. “You already know the answer.” Erelynn said as she and Elewynn walked up to stand next to Queen Áine. “We do?” Rivera asked in confusion. Asheworth suddenly had a look of realization, as he looked upon the twins. “3903-A, the Otherkin.” “Yes. While I am aware of ##green\|that land of green that is empty of itself##, I sadly cannot simply pull ##bf59bf\|its poor confused refugees## out as long as they lack their names. However, I am not powerful enough to return their names to them while they are trapped there, nor do we have the technology to do so. Mab had gained enough power to have achieved partial divinity, a demi-god if you will. I realized they were stuck there until their names were returned, or until they perished. That’s when I had an idea, If I couldn’t save them in their current lives, then I could save them in their next one.” Queen Áine stated. “The next one? Like in the afterlife?” Rivera asked. “Not exactly. Through the Eye of the Observer, and the many ancient spells I had access to, I managed to get in contact with [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-moons-initiative-hub The Prime After-Plain of the many realms where those who passed are sent to]. There, I made contact with the deities that govern it, for if a partial-deity can take away names, then surely a full deity can restore them. It was then I bestowed upon them a proposal. If they were to allow ##bf59bf\|the lost ones who cannot recall their souls## that perished to have their names restored, along with those who lost their lives from an unstoppable horrific calamity, and allow them to reincarnate, the people of Fata Morgana in return would praise and worship them as part of the many deities that we honor. They accepted this offer, and the deal was struck. But, as an extra measure of protection for them in this world govern under the bounds of what you call “Normalcy”, They would reincarnate as humans, and once they matured, we would send signals of influence which would unlock the memories of their previous life. We would then lead them to the shores where Fata Morgana would temporarily return, thus allowing them to enter the city. Once they entered the city’s walls, their memories would return along with their true names, and they would go through a metamorphosis and become Changelings, or as we have come to know them, Otherkin, thus being Fae once more.” Queen Áine stated, explaining the final mystery of Fata Morgana and of the Otherkin. “Reincarnation through divine intervention?! That’s… absolutely insane!” Gwyneth exclaimed, as she is overwhelmed by everything that she learned within the past hour. “Is that also why you guys know how to speak English?” Halloran asked. “It is indeed. We simply felt it would be better for all the reincarnated individuals who arrive here that we learn the languages of these modern times, instead of them learning the languages of old.” Queen Áine explained. “I’m guessing that vendor at the market was an Otherkin as well?” Asheworth questioned Artoria. “Yes, that is also why I asked you to hide your badges. Despite being manipulated by Mab, your Foundation was still heavily at fault for the Third Diaspora, thus not all Otherkin are forgiving toward your organization.” “I’m guessing that is why you two don’t show us hostility. You know it was Mab who took away your names.” Rivera said to the Levainn twins. “Oh, no no no. My sister and I were not victims of the Third Diaspora. We actually used to be elves from Hy-Brasil. We both perished when that beast brought the kingdom’s destruction.” Elewynn retorted. as she held her sister’s hand. “Wait! I just thought of something. What about those that managed to escape by stealing the names of someone else? Do you know and do something about them? Because we passed one of the parks getting here, and I saw what looked like a man with a rabbit head wearing a tuxedo. At first, I thought it wasn’t real, but after learning about the reincarnated Fae, something tells me it was.” Halloran exclaimed, realizing he forgot to mention it when they got to the Spire. “Oh, that must have been [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/taboo Japers]. Yes, you are correct. He did lose his true name and stole another’s to escape ##green\|those gloomy forest trees##.” Erelynn said as she rubbed the back of her head with an expression of pity. “But he promises to return it once he gets his own back!” “It is true. Those who stole another’s name and managed to return to your world, were allowed to take refuge here in Fata Morgana. For since they are no longer trapped within ##green\|a domain of dull greenery and somber sunlight##, we can help them restore their true names, and are currently seeking a way to do so.” Queen Áine stated, sounding full of hope. “Well in that case, my people and I will be more than happy to assist you. After all, the Fae back on Earth have been more than willing to help us Droganians, so I feel we should return the favor by helping you and ##bf59bf\|the many victims of the Undoer’s sins##. Speaking of which, I was hoping that you and I could discuss possible cooperations between our peoples. I’m sure there is much we could do for each other.” King Ragna suggested, as he held out his hand to Queen Áine in a gesture of friendship. “That goes the same for me and my friends here. I wish to learn everything you and the Changelings can tell me about your home and its customs, along with whatever secrets you may know about the Fae Empire. Whatever knowledge you share with us will be of great use to the Sidhe Lounge and Fae everywhere!” Gwyneth stated, excited and thrilled to learn whatever Queen Áine could provide her. “If you really are trying to help undo the mess that the Foundation unintentionally created with the factory, then let us help as well. We and the O5 created what we call Directive Alpha/1911 to atone for it, so even if some of the Otherkin may be against it, please let us work together to make a better world for everyone.” Asheworth said as he too offered his hand to Queen Áine. “I’m sure it is what she would have wanted.” He said, gesturing toward the statue in the room. Queen Áine gave them all a soft caring smile, as she took both King Ragna and Asheworth’s hands. “I know, and I humbly accept your willingness to help. However, I do have some conditions to this partnership.” “What will those be?” Captain Agron asked, as he stood next to King Ragna. “We shall discuss those at a later time. Until then, as a way to thank you for your willingness to aid us, I’d like us all to take some time to enjoy ourselves. There is so much Fata Morgana has to offer in regards to luxury and entertainment. I would like for you to have a chance to experience it for yourself. It is my offer.” Queen Áine said, as she gestured to the expansive city view, with a look of excitement and eagerness. “I would also like to hear some of the stories you may care to share. I may have watched many events through the Observer’s Eye, But I wish to hear you speak of them yourselves. “Also, I would like to have a friendly spar with Agron. I find your weapon fascinating. I can tell it is magical just like mine and am interested to see what it is capable of.” Artoria said to King Ragna, as she pointed towards Captain Agron and his weapon Astarot. “My sister and I would also like to know the current state of Hy-Brasil. While we have access to the observatory and the Observer’s Eye, we have just been too afraid to find out for ourselves. Our deaths are a touchy subject for us after all.” Elewynn said, as she and Erelynn looked to each other uneasily. Asheworth, Rivera, and Halloran glanced at each other for several seconds before they looked back to the Changelings. “Give us a moment.” Rivera said, as she and Asheworth gestured the others to group together as they took a moment to discuss Queen Áine and her companions’ requests. After a minute of few moments of discussion, they split and Asheworth walked toward Queen Áine. “Áine Lurline Tanaquill… we accept your offer.” @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/four-knights-tango/logosmall.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ 22nd of March [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][[[secure-facility-dossier-site-120\|Site-120]]], Częstochowa, Poland[[/span]] [[/=]] [[/div]] ----- @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject:** Fata Morgana Alliance Proposal [[/div]] ------ Overseers, I am sending this message to inform you that the expedition into SCP-3903 was a success. Thanks to SCP-7629-ARTHUR accompanying my team, we were able to gain entry into Fata Morgana. Once in the city, we were fortunate to gather much information in regards to both the culture and thaumaturgical capabilities of the city, the Fae inhabiting it, and the purpose of the SCP-3903-A instances. I also wish to advise you we have managed to discover information we believe is of high importance. Attached is a documentation of all the information we’ve acquired within SCP-3903, as well as connected historical knowledge shared with us from Olivié Gwyneth. I must also inform you that the leader of SCP-3903 has agreed to a partnership between the SCP Foundation and the City of Arcadia. This partnership has been agreed upon under the following conditions: * Fata Morgana will remain partially outside of baseline reality until a time where it believes the world is [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/no-return-hub in a state suitable for its return]. However, the Foundation will have personal access to return to Fata Morgana through private and secure way-lines. The city of Arcadia will also be given access as part of the partnership between the Lady Titania Queen Áine Lurline Tanaquill and the Vajra King Ragna Von Morrowind. * Any thaumaturgical technology and materials, along with any historical documentation and artifacts the Foundation wishes to access must first be brought up to the Lady Titania’s court for approval. * Fata Morgana is to be granted Free Port status. * All Foundation personnel who wish to enter Fata Morgana must remove all identifying items showing their connection to the Foundation to prevent provoking any Otherkin who still show hostility towards the Foundation. * All reported instances of 3903-A are to be brought to Fata Morgana as soon as possible. * Any Eshu-entities which have managed to escape from ##green\|The ever expansive plain of greenery## through the theft of another entity’s name must be brought to Fata Morgana immediately for protection. * The Fae of Esterberg and the remaining inhabitants of Hy-Brasil will be granted safe means to travel to Fata Morgana, on the condition that the only means of travel are located within the aforementioned Free Ports, and for them to have security measures to prevent any possibilities of hostile entities entering the city. * Fata Morgana shall be allowed to research why all means to restore Hy-Brasil have failed thus far, and how to prevent future failures. They will also assist in restoration once a successful permanent process has been discovered. In addition, they will also be allowed to research means to restore the stability of the kingdom of Avalon. Sincerely, Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Site Director, Site-120 [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="email"]] [[div class="tofrom"]] To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Re:Fata Morgana Alliance Proposal [[/div]] ------ Dr. Daniel Asheworth, We have reviewed the forwarded information as well as the alliance proposal and the terms of conditions set forth by the governing power of SCP-3903. In regard to the many major benefits it offers to both the SCP Foundation and the success of Directive Alpha/1911, The O5 Council has chosen to agree to the conditions of the Lady Titania “hereafter referred to as SCP-3903-NU”, and authorize the partnership between the Foundation and the city of Fata Morgana. We are looking forward to hearing back from you regarding the results of this alliance. Sincerely, Overwatch Command, O5-5 [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: City-Towers.jpg > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/34907359@N08/24370953033 Flickr] > Filename: Lake-Fountains.jpg > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=94358254 Flickr] > Filename: Lush-Park.jpg > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77360325 Wikimedia Commons] > Name: Spire-Lobby.jpg > License: CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/61683005@N00/3300475546 Flickr] > Filename: Sky-View.jpg > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/67069761@N06/8687954327 Flickr Image 1] > [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Starry_sky_at_Mount_Rinjani,_Lombok_island.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 1] > [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mineral_moon_t%C3%B5rva.jpg Wikimedia Commons Image 2] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-06T20:58:00	[ "_licensebox", "children-of-the-night", "doctor-asheworth", "doctor-rivera", "esterberg", "fantasy", "from-120s-archives", "homo-sapiens-sidhe", "nameless", "olivie-gwyneth", "otherworldly", "queen-mab", "tale", "utopian" ]	The Lost Spire, Part 2 - SCP Foundation	10	[ "scp-1000", "the-enlightened-children", "scp-3930", "ralliston-s-proposal", "scp-7600", "system:page-tags/tag/orcadia", "scp-2264", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub", "sarkicism-hub", "scp-pl-259", "three-moons-initiative-hub", "taboo", "secure-facility-dossier-site-120", "no-return-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reimagined-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub" ]	[]	1447205639	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-spire-part-2
the-lost-star	<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%3Aoceanbound/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <br/> The clouds passed slowly overhead, unbothered and passive. The sea rolled over itself to rock the fishing boat again and again, gently rocking the groaning metal as if it were a fussing infant in its crib. But now, at what a fisherman would call the end of his life, his thoughts were only on staying awake. The lull of the ocean jostled him back upright in a steady waltz timing. <p>He was slumped against the railing that surrounded the bow of the ship, eyes half lidded in exhaustion. Anthony hadn’t done any physical work for some time, but he still felt so drained by his stationary situation. The only evidence he was still alive and kicking was the open pocket journal in his lap and the pencil that just barely rolled out of his hand as the waves bucked against the boat once again.</p> <p>He was weak, hungry and alone – he thought so, anyway. None of the other crewmates on deck had moved in four days, and no sound had traveled up from below deck since last week.<br/> There wasn’t much to do to try and stay awake except for Anthony to reminisce about the six decades that led him to this point in time.</p> <p>His full name was Anthony Jean-Paul Adams. It was written in scratchy almost-cursive on the front page of his journal. Sometimes he’d read it just to make sure he wasn’t making up his middle name. He focused on his last name, something common but his own, and how he’d chosen to share it with one woman in particular, Anthony was studying abroad in England with a group of other students – mostly the artsy type, he remembered. He was the only science major on that trip. Something about a semester in a place he’d never been to, on a sea he’d never traveled, made his marine biology degree itch with curiosity.</p> <p>He got more than he bargained for, however. Anthony had agreed to go with the rest of the group to see an opera, playing in an English university as a way to see their music program. It was about the orchestra, but for Anthony it was about the lead actress.</p> <p>Anthony never remembered the actual play, or the story of it. All he knew was that the lead actress was beautiful and her voice was incredible and he needed to speak to her before he went back to America. He met Jacqueline after at least an hour of her turning him down, and they sent letters back and forth overseas for the rest of their years in college until they could move in together. Three years later, their daughter Anne-Marie was born. Nothing else seemed to matter after that, except for the feeling of loneliness that those memories dragged up. He wondered if Jacqueline or Anne knew he wasn’t coming back.</p> <p>The fisherman thought back to the beginning of the month. He’d been at sea for the 50th time in the preceding month, with nothing more than phone calls with his wife. It wasn’t that the sea was inescapable, even if that was the case; Anthony was devoted to the crew and his ship, now determined to commit the story of his demise to his heart’s memory.</p> <p>27 days prior, the crew was boarding their beloved fishing vessel, Esther’s Resolve. It was named by one of the other men’s wives, after some woman from the Bible that Anthony was not familiar with. He’d only ever really picked up the title of “letters to the Corinthians” from Sunday masses, and that was all he’d cared to remember of the scripture itself as he considered himself a laid-back Christian. Anthony still believed, of course, he just wasn’t always willing to drive three hours for a 45-minute mass once a week. It was fitting for their ship though, as a great imposing mass of blue steel and tightly wound nets. They were tasked with fishing for lobster off the northern coast of Maine, but it was a plan and not reality.</p> <p>Not two days into their journey, late into the night, Anthony had been tasked with the next four-hour watch to make sure they didn’t run aground or anything else. Unfortunately, he didn’t do his job very well; 4:44 was the time when equipment started to blip and beep and chirp into oblivion. Everything broke in a spontaneous shudder that rocked through the boat, a deadly unseen wave that deluged Anthony with fear. The very last thing he was able to do was send out a radio distress call to any Coast Guard ships that were in their vicinity.</p> <p>Breaking the news to the rest of the crew was one of the more difficult things in his life. People cried and yelled at Anthony, who was riddled with guilt for the first day afterwards. Anyone would be frustrated and panicked if they too woke up to not an inch of land in site. The mechanical engineer aboard assumed that there was something greatly wrong, possibly an electromagnetic change in the environment. People cried and yelled at the engineer instead.</p> <p>They’d had enough food to last for another month of sailing, but it was hard not to overindulge. You had to keep your strength up in a crisis situation, especially if you weren’t sure when your last meal would be.</p> <p>After that came the emergency flares. One of the other fishermen had the idea to send a flare at midnight to any passing planes or other ships to attempt to get their attention. Anthony hated the whistling of the rocket flare, the shrill call like an angry falcon as it shot into the air spitting sparks. It might’ve been necessary, sure, but it felt like the last resort. It was a taxing thing, watching the bright red omen of inevitable death that called for help falling, flailing into the ocean like a bleeding sacrifice. It reminded Anthony of the way blood turned to scarlet wisps in the water in shark documentaries, cementing the nausea in his gut.</p> <p>The crew ran out of flares 7 days ago. The engineer cried.</p> <p>Anthony ate his last square inch serving of the chicken pot pie Jacqueline sent with him in silence under the faded light of the moon. His crewmates had all but run out of their own rations, and the lack of drinking water emptied their heads. They either laid down on deck unmoving or stared at the wall of the cabin until their eyes filmed over.</p> <p>He sighed out a rough breath, the salt stinging his throat and palette. The taste of the sea bit at him, something he loved so much now cursed his very existence in its realm. Anthony couldn’t help but let out a gruff laugh – more of a bark, if he had to admit – about an old friend like the ocean now spitting back at him for intruding. It was his life’s work to study the ocean and now he was doomed to lose his life to it; the irony made him smile in the whipping wind across the deck.</p> <p style="text-align: center;">✧</p> <p>Some time passed. Anthony watched the sun set again, mocking him with its disappearance beyond the sea. The moon rose behind him once again, and the stars dropped into place. The little glittering lights remind him of the shooting star he very nearly forgot about. It seemed like such a small speck of hope in the story of his demise that it slipped his mind. On the night the final flare was shot into the midnight sky, he found himself staring up at the emptiness above him. A brief memory of a space documentary about stars living in a distant past because of the time it takes for their light to reach Earth crossed his mind as a dry smile crossed his face. In his awe, Anthony’s attention was stolen by the night returning their request for aid. A shooting star, the pale glare of it streaking across the blue-blackness of midnight, that felt like a response from the Heavens as if to say, ‘We see you’.</p> <p>In his present state, Anthony felt like that star was from a different lifetime. A week ago was a century before him, the only sense left in that memory was the hope that made his heart full. On this remembrance of the wonder of the night sky, the fisherman allowed his eyes to close and fell asleep.</p> <p>Upon waking, rain pattered against the deck of the ship and the fisherman’s face. It brought about quite a foul smell with the waft of the sea as well as the possible corpses aboard, the stench choking Anthony as he was roused from sleep by the inertia of the boat’s rocking motion, his head thudding against the railing behind him. The sound echoed in his head as the rain poured down upon him, his coat already drenched from the storm. Even if he was now awake and able to do things, the dizziness that overcame him was incredible; Anthony was more than satisfied to sit in the pelting rain if it meant he didn’t have to move.</p> <p>With the pain that now pulsed through his skull coupled with the rain falling in loud globs against the deck, there was enough noise to briefly drown out the groaning of the ocean. When his head finally cleared, Anthony could make out the low wailing of something very much alive – unlike his crew. In an attempt to change his position, Anthony begrudgingly and stiffly gripped the railing to hoist his upper body over the edge to look out at what was making such a caterwaul.</p> <p>Laying atop the crushed remains of a Coast Guard ship was the gargantuan glowing form of something almost unrecognizable. That was, until, the fisherman could make out the golden wisps of hair buried in many spindly arms. It was whispering, it was crying, it was singing and sobbing and yelling as it wept into itself and the navy tarp that had covered the response boat. Sprawling wings emitted kaleidoscopic rays of burning light, painting the boat in red and green and gold and white and blue, this odd celestial glow of ever-shifting hues. The being seemed to be nearly the size of a sperm whale – the half of it that breached the water, at least.</p> <p>Anthony was struck with shock, but some other unrecognizable feeling made its way under his skin through his stomach up to his throat only to settle in his mouth as a shout of disbelief. Only when the angel hiccuped in its misery did the emotion register as reverence. This thing had both destroyed the Esther’s only hope of returning to land, but had made his faith real. It had made decades of Easter and Christmas masses, Sunday school, praying before bed at night even in college when there was no one left to make him believe very real all in one instant. He had half a heart to ask the angel why it had fallen, or why it was sobbing atop a Coast Guard rescue boat. But the fisherman elected not to, for it seemed rude to disturb its peace.</p> <p>Watching the crying angel led him to watch the trail of its wings, miles long feathers that melded into nebulous colors under the waves. A sickly green ichor dripped steadily from the downy fluff on its back, seeping into its skin like tar as it flooded through the wreckage and into the sea. There was a trail of it through the waves, decorated with a parade of floating carcasses of fish. In its bleeding, its voice rang out in a choir of languages of which some Anthony understood.<br/> “I bleed for this?”, it shouted. “I was inevitable. I was born to suffer, and this is my demise? This is what I was waiting for, My Lord? Is this what you wanted from me?”</p> <p>Seeing its despair was quite clear to the fisherman, and he would have wanted nothing more to soothe the crying thing if only to say he had felt the warmth of an angel’s tears. As he watched its back stutter with its sobs, it abruptly turned to face him with the scorching light of an exploding star as icy tears ran down what could have been their cheek.</p> <p>“Look away! Do not look at me! I am a creature of shame, I have fallen!”, it commanded, voice breaking like the ear-piercing shatter of glass. Anthony was too busy basking in the amazement that his God created such a beautiful thing to notice the great wing that rose from the sea as the angel shifted. Its wing crashed down in a looming chromatic wave that ruptured the surface of the ocean and broke the bow of the boat into shreds of steel. The fishing boat poured out the bodies laying on its deck like a pitcher into a cup, the moaning of metal as it started to capsize mimicking the growl of a beast that would swallow Anthony whole.</p> <p>And for the last time in his life, the fisherman contemplated his purpose. He was what scrounged up sustenance from the great blue unknown, and he would return to that unknown now, to become part of the cycle that would return him to life and death again and again and again. It was funny, in some morbid way, that the sea was what devoured him now. By the cast of an angel's wing, Anthony thanked the universe for providing him with a death that brought him euphoria in knowing that the God he prayed to was real, that He heard his pleading from the first childhood memory of sitting in mass sandwiched between his brother and sister. As he suffocated in the salt water, the fisherman thanked his wife for her excessive cooking, and apologized to the angel whose sadness leached into the water above him. His vision was of the blue-green net of seafoam and angel’s blood, and he felt glad that the fish around him could ascend from the depths to see such a holy brightness in the hour of their death.</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-lost-star">The Lost Star</a>" by illusorymoon, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-lost-star">https://scpwiki.com/the-lost-star</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> <a href="http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/illusorymoon/Fisherman1.jpg">http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/illusorymoon/Fisherman1.jpg</a><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> NASA Goddard Space Flight Center<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC 2.0 Generic<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acadia_National_Park_(29143744581).jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acadia_National_Park_(29143744581).jpg</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:oceanbound">:scp-wiki:theme:oceanbound</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --foamy-white: 176,196,222; --lagoon-hue: 70, 130, 180; --header-image: url(" http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/illusorymoon/Fisherman1.jpg"); } #extra-div-1::after { display:none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] The clouds passed slowly overhead, unbothered and passive. The sea rolled over itself to rock the fishing boat again and again, gently rocking the groaning metal as if it were a fussing infant in its crib. But now, at what a fisherman would call the end of his life, his thoughts were only on staying awake. The lull of the ocean jostled him back upright in a steady waltz timing. He was slumped against the railing that surrounded the bow of the ship, eyes half lidded in exhaustion. Anthony hadn’t done any physical work for some time, but he still felt so drained by his stationary situation. The only evidence he was still alive and kicking was the open pocket journal in his lap and the pencil that just barely rolled out of his hand as the waves bucked against the boat once again. He was weak, hungry and alone – he thought so, anyway. None of the other crewmates on deck had moved in four days, and no sound had traveled up from below deck since last week. There wasn’t much to do to try and stay awake except for Anthony to reminisce about the six decades that led him to this point in time. His full name was Anthony Jean-Paul Adams. It was written in scratchy almost-cursive on the front page of his journal. Sometimes he’d read it just to make sure he wasn’t making up his middle name. He focused on his last name, something common but his own, and how he’d chosen to share it with one woman in particular, Anthony was studying abroad in England with a group of other students – mostly the artsy type, he remembered. He was the only science major on that trip. Something about a semester in a place he’d never been to, on a sea he’d never traveled, made his marine biology degree itch with curiosity. He got more than he bargained for, however. Anthony had agreed to go with the rest of the group to see an opera, playing in an English university as a way to see their music program. It was about the orchestra, but for Anthony it was about the lead actress. Anthony never remembered the actual play, or the story of it. All he knew was that the lead actress was beautiful and her voice was incredible and he needed to speak to her before he went back to America. He met Jacqueline after at least an hour of her turning him down, and they sent letters back and forth overseas for the rest of their years in college until they could move in together. Three years later, their daughter Anne-Marie was born. Nothing else seemed to matter after that, except for the feeling of loneliness that those memories dragged up. He wondered if Jacqueline or Anne knew he wasn’t coming back. The fisherman thought back to the beginning of the month. He’d been at sea for the 50th time in the preceding month, with nothing more than phone calls with his wife. It wasn’t that the sea was inescapable, even if that was the case; Anthony was devoted to the crew and his ship, now determined to commit the story of his demise to his heart’s memory. 27 days prior, the crew was boarding their beloved fishing vessel, Esther’s Resolve. It was named by one of the other men’s wives, after some woman from the Bible that Anthony was not familiar with. He’d only ever really picked up the title of “letters to the Corinthians” from Sunday masses, and that was all he’d cared to remember of the scripture itself as he considered himself a laid-back Christian. Anthony still believed, of course, he just wasn’t always willing to drive three hours for a 45-minute mass once a week. It was fitting for their ship though, as a great imposing mass of blue steel and tightly wound nets. They were tasked with fishing for lobster off the northern coast of Maine, but it was a plan and not reality. Not two days into their journey, late into the night, Anthony had been tasked with the next four-hour watch to make sure they didn’t run aground or anything else. Unfortunately, he didn’t do his job very well; 4:44 was the time when equipment started to blip and beep and chirp into oblivion. Everything broke in a spontaneous shudder that rocked through the boat, a deadly unseen wave that deluged Anthony with fear. The very last thing he was able to do was send out a radio distress call to any Coast Guard ships that were in their vicinity. Breaking the news to the rest of the crew was one of the more difficult things in his life. People cried and yelled at Anthony, who was riddled with guilt for the first day afterwards. Anyone would be frustrated and panicked if they too woke up to not an inch of land in site. The mechanical engineer aboard assumed that there was something greatly wrong, possibly an electromagnetic change in the environment. People cried and yelled at the engineer instead. They’d had enough food to last for another month of sailing, but it was hard not to overindulge. You had to keep your strength up in a crisis situation, especially if you weren’t sure when your last meal would be. After that came the emergency flares. One of the other fishermen had the idea to send a flare at midnight to any passing planes or other ships to attempt to get their attention. Anthony hated the whistling of the rocket flare, the shrill call like an angry falcon as it shot into the air spitting sparks. It might’ve been necessary, sure, but it felt like the last resort. It was a taxing thing, watching the bright red omen of inevitable death that called for help falling, flailing into the ocean like a bleeding sacrifice. It reminded Anthony of the way blood turned to scarlet wisps in the water in shark documentaries, cementing the nausea in his gut. The crew ran out of flares 7 days ago. The engineer cried. Anthony ate his last square inch serving of the chicken pot pie Jacqueline sent with him in silence under the faded light of the moon. His crewmates had all but run out of their own rations, and the lack of drinking water emptied their heads. They either laid down on deck unmoving or stared at the wall of the cabin until their eyes filmed over. He sighed out a rough breath, the salt stinging his throat and palette. The taste of the sea bit at him, something he loved so much now cursed his very existence in its realm. Anthony couldn’t help but let out a gruff laugh – more of a bark, if he had to admit – about an old friend like the ocean now spitting back at him for intruding. It was his life’s work to study the ocean and now he was doomed to lose his life to it; the irony made him smile in the whipping wind across the deck. = ✧ Some time passed. Anthony watched the sun set again, mocking him with its disappearance beyond the sea. The moon rose behind him once again, and the stars dropped into place. The little glittering lights remind him of the shooting star he very nearly forgot about. It seemed like such a small speck of hope in the story of his demise that it slipped his mind. On the night the final flare was shot into the midnight sky, he found himself staring up at the emptiness above him. A brief memory of a space documentary about stars living in a distant past because of the time it takes for their light to reach Earth crossed his mind as a dry smile crossed his face. In his awe, Anthony’s attention was stolen by the night returning their request for aid. A shooting star, the pale glare of it streaking across the blue-blackness of midnight, that felt like a response from the Heavens as if to say, ‘We see you’. In his present state, Anthony felt like that star was from a different lifetime. A week ago was a century before him, the only sense left in that memory was the hope that made his heart full. On this remembrance of the wonder of the night sky, the fisherman allowed his eyes to close and fell asleep. Upon waking, rain pattered against the deck of the ship and the fisherman’s face. It brought about quite a foul smell with the waft of the sea as well as the possible corpses aboard, the stench choking Anthony as he was roused from sleep by the inertia of the boat’s rocking motion, his head thudding against the railing behind him. The sound echoed in his head as the rain poured down upon him, his coat already drenched from the storm. Even if he was now awake and able to do things, the dizziness that overcame him was incredible; Anthony was more than satisfied to sit in the pelting rain if it meant he didn’t have to move. With the pain that now pulsed through his skull coupled with the rain falling in loud globs against the deck, there was enough noise to briefly drown out the groaning of the ocean. When his head finally cleared, Anthony could make out the low wailing of something very much alive – unlike his crew. In an attempt to change his position, Anthony begrudgingly and stiffly gripped the railing to hoist his upper body over the edge to look out at what was making such a caterwaul. Laying atop the crushed remains of a Coast Guard ship was the gargantuan glowing form of something almost unrecognizable. That was, until, the fisherman could make out the golden wisps of hair buried in many spindly arms. It was whispering, it was crying, it was singing and sobbing and yelling as it wept into itself and the navy tarp that had covered the response boat. Sprawling wings emitted kaleidoscopic rays of burning light, painting the boat in red and green and gold and white and blue, this odd celestial glow of ever-shifting hues. The being seemed to be nearly the size of a sperm whale – the half of it that breached the water, at least. Anthony was struck with shock, but some other unrecognizable feeling made its way under his skin through his stomach up to his throat only to settle in his mouth as a shout of disbelief. Only when the angel hiccuped in its misery did the emotion register as reverence. This thing had both destroyed the Esther’s only hope of returning to land, but had made his faith real. It had made decades of Easter and Christmas masses, Sunday school, praying before bed at night even in college when there was no one left to make him believe very real all in one instant. He had half a heart to ask the angel why it had fallen, or why it was sobbing atop a Coast Guard rescue boat. But the fisherman elected not to, for it seemed rude to disturb its peace. Watching the crying angel led him to watch the trail of its wings, miles long feathers that melded into nebulous colors under the waves. A sickly green ichor dripped steadily from the downy fluff on its back, seeping into its skin like tar as it flooded through the wreckage and into the sea. There was a trail of it through the waves, decorated with a parade of floating carcasses of fish. In its bleeding, its voice rang out in a choir of languages of which some Anthony understood. “I bleed for this?”, it shouted. “I was inevitable. I was born to suffer, and this is my demise? This is what I was waiting for, My Lord? Is this what you wanted from me?” Seeing its despair was quite clear to the fisherman, and he would have wanted nothing more to soothe the crying thing if only to say he had felt the warmth of an angel’s tears. As he watched its back stutter with its sobs, it abruptly turned to face him with the scorching light of an exploding star as icy tears ran down what could have been their cheek. “Look away! Do not look at me! I am a creature of shame, I have fallen!”, it commanded, voice breaking like the ear-piercing shatter of glass. Anthony was too busy basking in the amazement that his God created such a beautiful thing to notice the great wing that rose from the sea as the angel shifted. Its wing crashed down in a looming chromatic wave that ruptured the surface of the ocean and broke the bow of the boat into shreds of steel. The fishing boat poured out the bodies laying on its deck like a pitcher into a cup, the moaning of metal as it started to capsize mimicking the growl of a beast that would swallow Anthony whole. And for the last time in his life, the fisherman contemplated his purpose. He was what scrounged up sustenance from the great blue unknown, and he would return to that unknown now, to become part of the cycle that would return him to life and death again and again and again. It was funny, in some morbid way, that the sea was what devoured him now. By the cast of an angel's wing, Anthony thanked the universe for providing him with a death that brought him euphoria in knowing that the God he prayed to was real, that He heard his pleading from the first childhood memory of sitting in mass sandwiched between his brother and sister. As he suffocated in the salt water, the fisherman thanked his wife for her excessive cooking, and apologized to the angel whose sadness leached into the water above him. His vision was of the blue-green net of seafoam and angel’s blood, and he felt glad that the fish around him could ascend from the depths to see such a holy brightness in the hour of their death. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/illusorymoon/Fisherman1.jpg > Author: NASA Goddard Space Flight Center > License: CC 2.0 Generic > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acadia_National_Park_(29143744581).jpg ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-10T22:06:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "cosmic-horror", "horror", "religious-fiction", "tale" ]	The Lost Star - SCP Foundation	10	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451737269	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-lost-star
the-man-who-never-was	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by TopHatBionicle</p> </div> <p><span style="color: #000000;">“My name is Mr. Smith.”</span></p> <p>That was the only sound in the room: a man, muttering his name over and over, trying to not forget who he was.</p> <p>The muttering man didn’t remember his first name; there wasn’t much that he did remember, and he remembered less and less every day. He didn’t remember why, perhaps he’d never known why, but the muttering man knew it was important to remember. You see, every time someone forgot something about him or he forgot something about himself, the muttering man disappeared a little more and a little more.</p> <p>And the muttering man did not want to disappear.</p> <p><span style="color: #111111;">“My name is Mr. Smith.”</span></p> <p>The few things the muttering man did remember, he desperately held onto. He remembered that he’d had a wife and a daughter, both of whom he’d loved more than anything in the world.</p> <p>Nobody remembered them now.</p> <p>“And soon no one will remember you either,” said a bitter voice from deep within his soul. Maybe it was his own inner voice, a part of himself grown sullen after years of suffering. Maybe it was an outsider's voice, tormenting him and driving him mad. Maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. His body faded a little more, shaking with the fear of the infinite oblivion inching closer every day. His mind had been broken long ago, and it no longer thought much of existing or not existing. “After all,” said his mind, “everyone is eventually forgotten. It may take a century, or a millennia, or until the Earth is swallowed by the Sun, but nobody lives forever, and no one is remembered forever.”</p> <p>The muttering man looked down at his arms, covered in scars. He didn’t remember where they’d come from.</p> <p><span style="color: #222222;">“My name is Mr. Smith.”</span></p> <p>Others used to remember him. Scientists who had run awful experiments and done terrible things, almost made him completely disappear a few times, but at least they had remembered him. Not anymore, though. Not for a long time.</p> <p>The muttering man didn’t remember the scientists, either.</p> <p><span style="color: #333333;">“My name is Mr. Smith.”</span></p> <p>It was getting worse. At first, only people had been forgetting him. At first, he could write things about himself or record his voice, just to make sure that he still existed. At first, paper and the tapes would remember what people couldn’t.</p> <p>At first it had worked.</p> <p>Now it didn't.</p> <p>Now even paper and tapes were forgetting. Now, whenever he wrote about himself, it faded almost as fast as he could write. Now, whenever he recorded his voice, the tapes would be blank when he tried to play them back.</p> <p>Now everything was forgetting him.</p> <p><span style="color: #444444;">“My name is Mr. Smith.”</span></p> <p>But today, someone remembered him.</p> <p>A stranger in a dark suit came in. Not a scientist, they only wore white labcoats. This stranger was dressed in a simple yet smart suit of the blackest fabric, although some parts were stained gray with ash. He wasn’t dressed for science, he was dressed for a funeral. The stranger lit a cigarette, and offered a second cigarette to the muttering man.</p> <p><span style="color: #555555;">“My name is Mr. Smith,”</span> was the only response the stranger got.</p> <p>The muttering man wanted to tell the smoking stranger everything about himself, to try to get someone else to remember him. His body tried to speak, to find the words to convey his whole being, but then realized that he didn’t know what to say. It was not because he had only spoken five words for God knows how long, nor because his mind didn't remember enough to tell the smoking stranger, but because his soul knew that a man cannot be summed up in simple words. He struggled to find something, <em>anything</em> to say, but the stranger spoke first.</p> <p>“Ever read Dunsany?” asked the smoking stranger.</p> <p><span style="color: #666666;">“My name is Mr. Smith,”</span> was still the only response the stranger got.</p> <p>Something came fluttering into the muttering man’s mind. Was it a memory? It had been so long since the muttering man had remembered anything, he couldn’t tell anymore. It tickled at the back of his mind, infuriatingly close yet just out of reach. The muttering man concentrated all the energy in his body and soul into grabbing onto this small, fleeting memory, the memory of a story he’d read once in a book. It was the story of a king whom all the gods and people had forgotten, and because they had forgotten him, the king had ceased not only to be, but to ever have been. The muttering man felt an unaccountable pang of fear at this story he'd read once in a book.</p> <p>A book? What was a book?</p> <p>And what was a story? Was this a story? The muttering man had forgotten what that was. Then he forgot what he’d been trying to remember; then he forgot that he’d been trying to remember anything at all.</p> <p>The muttering man didn’t know why, but he felt like he’d just lost something important.</p> <p><span style="color: #777777;">“My name is-”</span></p> <p>And then the muttering man let out a choking gasp of terror, agony, and despair, for he no longer remembered his name.</p> <p>The muttering man looked down at his body. It was fading away, right before his eyes, taking on strange shapes and forms that could not be remembered. It wasn’t round, nor square, nor triangular, nor any shape a human mind could be asked to recall, but an impossibility that hurt his mind to look at. He was scared, but his mind couldn’t remember why he should be scared. Was something dangerous in the room with him? The muttering man noticed a smoking stranger whom he thought he’d never seen before, but the stranger didn’t seem dangerous. Was it something else that he didn’t see, or something that couldn’t be seen? Then the muttering man looked down at himself again, but all he saw was the faint outline of a man, growing dimmer and dimmer each moment. The muttering man didn’t want to be forgotten, but his soul told him that he already was. He looked back up to the smoking stranger for some sign that everything was going to be ok, that he wasn’t going to disappear, that none of this was really happening. What the muttering man saw caused his body to convulse in anger and fright.</p> <p>The smoking stranger was ignoring him.</p> <p>The muttering man wanted to stand up and tackle the stranger, to scream in his face, to force the smoking man to acknowledge him. Unfortunately for the muttering man, his body was weak, his mind was broken, and his soul no longer cared.</p> <p>The muttering man didn’t know what to think or how to feel. He couldn’t tell if his fading away hurt or not. There were sensations of freezing heat and burning cold, invisible light casting the brightest shadows, and all other contradictions which cannot be remembered. His body screamed to know what it was, his mind told him to accept the end, and his soul laughed at the futility of everything.</p> <p>The muttering man looked up at the smoking stranger one last time and tried to ask for help.</p> <p><span style="color: #888888;">“My name is…”</span></p> <p><span style="color: #999999;">The muttering man could not remember.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #AAAAAA;">The weeping man closed his eyes.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #BBBBBB;">The dying man does not exist.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #CCCCCC;">██▖█████ never existed.</span></p> <p><span style="color: transparent;">███████ isn't round.</span></p> <p><br/></p> <hr/> <p><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="/the-man-who-never-was">The Man Who Never Was</a>" by TopHatBionicle, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-man-who-never-was">https://scpwiki.com/the-man-who-never-was</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]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by TopHatBionicle [[/div]] [[span style="color: #000000;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith.”[[/span]] That was the only sound in the room: a man, muttering his name over and over, trying to not forget who he was. The muttering man didn’t remember his first name; there wasn’t much that he did remember, and he remembered less and less every day. He didn’t remember why, perhaps he’d never known why, but the muttering man knew it was important to remember. You see, every time someone forgot something about him or he forgot something about himself, the muttering man disappeared a little more and a little more. And the muttering man did not want to disappear. [[span style="color: #111111;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith.”[[/span]] The few things the muttering man did remember, he desperately held onto. He remembered that he’d had a wife and a daughter, both of whom he’d loved more than anything in the world. Nobody remembered them now. “And soon no one will remember you either,” said a bitter voice from deep within his soul. Maybe it was his own inner voice, a part of himself grown sullen after years of suffering. Maybe it was an outsider's voice, tormenting him and driving him mad. Maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. His body faded a little more, shaking with the fear of the infinite oblivion inching closer every day. His mind had been broken long ago, and it no longer thought much of existing or not existing. “After all,” said his mind, “everyone is eventually forgotten. It may take a century, or a millennia, or until the Earth is swallowed by the Sun, but nobody lives forever, and no one is remembered forever.” The muttering man looked down at his arms, covered in scars. He didn’t remember where they’d come from. [[span style="color: #222222;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith.”[[/span]] Others used to remember him. Scientists who had run awful experiments and done terrible things, almost made him completely disappear a few times, but at least they had remembered him. Not anymore, though. Not for a long time. The muttering man didn’t remember the scientists, either. [[span style="color: #333333;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith.”[[/span]] It was getting worse. At first, only people had been forgetting him. At first, he could write things about himself or record his voice, just to make sure that he still existed. At first, paper and the tapes would remember what people couldn’t. At first it had worked. Now it didn't. Now even paper and tapes were forgetting. Now, whenever he wrote about himself, it faded almost as fast as he could write. Now, whenever he recorded his voice, the tapes would be blank when he tried to play them back. Now everything was forgetting him. [[span style="color: #444444;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith.”[[/span]] But today, someone remembered him. A stranger in a dark suit came in. Not a scientist, they only wore white labcoats. This stranger was dressed in a simple yet smart suit of the blackest fabric, although some parts were stained gray with ash. He wasn’t dressed for science, he was dressed for a funeral. The stranger lit a cigarette, and offered a second cigarette to the muttering man. [[span style="color: #555555;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith,”[[/span]] was the only response the stranger got. The muttering man wanted to tell the smoking stranger everything about himself, to try to get someone else to remember him. His body tried to speak, to find the words to convey his whole being, but then realized that he didn’t know what to say. It was not because he had only spoken five words for God knows how long, nor because his mind didn't remember enough to tell the smoking stranger, but because his soul knew that a man cannot be summed up in simple words. He struggled to find something, //anything// to say, but the stranger spoke first. “Ever read Dunsany?” asked the smoking stranger. [[span style="color: #666666;"]]“My name is Mr. Smith,”[[/span]] was still the only response the stranger got. Something came fluttering into the muttering man’s mind. Was it a memory? It had been so long since the muttering man had remembered anything, he couldn’t tell anymore. It tickled at the back of his mind, infuriatingly close yet just out of reach. The muttering man concentrated all the energy in his body and soul into grabbing onto this small, fleeting memory, the memory of a story he’d read once in a book. It was the story of a king whom all the gods and people had forgotten, and because they had forgotten him, the king had ceased not only to be, but to ever have been. The muttering man felt an unaccountable pang of fear at this story he'd read once in a book. A book? What was a book? And what was a story? Was this a story? The muttering man had forgotten what that was. Then he forgot what he’d been trying to remember; then he forgot that he’d been trying to remember anything at all. The muttering man didn’t know why, but he felt like he’d just lost something important. [[span style="color: #777777;"]]“My name is-”[[/span]] And then the muttering man let out a choking gasp of terror, agony, and despair, for he no longer remembered his name. The muttering man looked down at his body. It was fading away, right before his eyes, taking on strange shapes and forms that could not be remembered. It wasn’t round, nor square, nor triangular, nor any shape a human mind could be asked to recall, but an impossibility that hurt his mind to look at. He was scared, but his mind couldn’t remember why he should be scared. Was something dangerous in the room with him? The muttering man noticed a smoking stranger whom he thought he’d never seen before, but the stranger didn’t seem dangerous. Was it something else that he didn’t see, or something that couldn’t be seen? Then the muttering man looked down at himself again, but all he saw was the faint outline of a man, growing dimmer and dimmer each moment. The muttering man didn’t want to be forgotten, but his soul told him that he already was. He looked back up to the smoking stranger for some sign that everything was going to be ok, that he wasn’t going to disappear, that none of this was really happening. What the muttering man saw caused his body to convulse in anger and fright. The smoking stranger was ignoring him. The muttering man wanted to stand up and tackle the stranger, to scream in his face, to force the smoking man to acknowledge him. Unfortunately for the muttering man, his body was weak, his mind was broken, and his soul no longer cared. The muttering man didn’t know what to think or how to feel. He couldn’t tell if his fading away hurt or not. There were sensations of freezing heat and burning cold, invisible light casting the brightest shadows, and all other contradictions which cannot be remembered. His body screamed to know what it was, his mind told him to accept the end, and his soul laughed at the futility of everything. The muttering man looked up at the smoking stranger one last time and tried to ask for help. [[span style="color: #888888;"]]“My name is…”[[/span]] [[span style="color: #999999;"]]The muttering man could not remember.[[/span]] [[span style="color: #AAAAAA;"]]The weeping man closed his eyes.[[/span]] [[span style="color: #BBBBBB;"]]The dying man does not exist.[[/span]] [[span style="color: #CCCCCC;"]]██▖█████ never existed.[[/span]] [[span style="color: transparent;"]]███████ isn't round.[[/span]] _ ------ _ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=TopHatBionicle]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-19T18:22:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The Man Who Never Was - SCP Foundation	16	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1450838341	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-man-who-never-was
the-mind-electric	<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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=3&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Athe-coalition-theme/1&css={$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"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Co-written by <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=1735043962" 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>, <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=1735043962" 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>, and <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=1735043962" 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></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/limey-s-citrus-corner">Limeyy's Authorpage</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lordxvnv">LORDXVNV's Authorpage</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage">Ralliston's Authorpage</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <h1 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: #275495">Threat Entity Database Entry</span></span></h1> <h3 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #5c95e6"><strong>Threat ID:</strong></span></span></h3> <p><strong>KTE-7395-Blue-Moro-Ragweed ("Quantum Leap")</strong></p> <p><span style="font-size:large;"><span style="color: #5c95e6"><strong>Authorized Response Level:</strong></span></span><br/> <strong><span style="color: red"><span style="font-size:large;">3</span></span> (Moderate Threat)</strong></p> <p><strong>Description:</strong> Threat entity consists of 3 individuals originating from outside baseline reality with unknown objective, presumed hostile to Coalition forces.</p> <div style="opacity: .75">KTE-7395-Alfa is a Type-Blue humanoid with yet unclear thaumaturgical abilities centered on transfiguration of matter. KTE-7395-Bravo is a Moro-class Artificial Intelligence equipped with a constructed body significantly ahead of existing paratechnology, full capabilities unknown. KTE-7395-Charlie appears to be a baseline human with no further anomalous traits beyond the association with KTE-7395-Blue-Moro-Ragweed and spontaneous appearance.</div> <p><span style="opacity: .5">Threat entity manifested in New York, USA on 23/02/2015, causing public spectacle before fleeing the scene. Current whereabouts unknown, prompting the mobilization of PHYSICS Strike Teams 0192 through 0194. Current reconnaissance efforts cover the Eastern American Coast, with low-priority surveillance worldwide to account for unknown anomalous forms of transport.</span></p> <p><span style="opacity: .25">Due to unknown potential thaumaturgical ability, engagement is to be kept to observation until a better understanding of KTE-7935-Blue-Moro-Ragweed can be garnered.</span></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/> <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> <img alt="skyline.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-mind-electric/skyline.png" style="width:100%"/> <hr/> <p>With a near-deafening <em>CRACK</em>, <a href="/scp-6172">Robert Madden, Ann Barlowe, and Ra</a> stumbled into existence — much to the surprise of everyone else trying to enjoy a regular Saturday morning. The group manifested on the sidewalk of a busy city street; Ra and Barlowe were lucky enough to have remained on their feet, while Madden stumbled onto the ground, his face meeting the pavement as reality itself stabilized around them.</p> <p>The pedestrians nearby were speechless, and the group surrounding them was only getting larger and larger. Madden only barely had time to groan and shake the pain from his face before a commotion began arising. Panic and anxiety quickly rose in his lungs. He had forgotten just how much he hated crowds.</p> <p>He quickly sat up, scanning the group of pedestrians for any signs of his colleagues. "Ann? Ann, where are you?!"</p> <p>"Behind you, dumbass," Barlowe whispered, dragging Madden to his feet by the collar while Ra followed from behind.</p> <p>"<tt>Given the infrastructure and local GPS reporting, it appears we are several kilometers from downtown New York City,</tt>" the .aic said, her voice reverberating through her <a href="/stranded-lullaby">newly-acquired android body</a>.</p> <p>Barlowe scanned the crowd for any signs of an exit. Being trapped in an unknown universe and a completely foreign city was one thing, but being surrounded by a growing mob was another issue entirely. In the distance, the echoes of sirens rang incessantly in the alchemist's ears. Either those sounds were a blessing or a curse, but having just barely escaped with their lives from the universe prior, she wasn't about to test her luck with the authorities now.</p> <p>After another glance around her vicinity, she finally noticed it: an opening into a vacant alleyway on her left side. She locked eyes with Madden and gave him a nod towards its general vicinity. Grabbing each other by the wrists, the group fought their way past the mob — doing their best to remain inconspicuous despite the onlooker's stares — until they finally reached their destination. Further they walked until the mob behind them was no longer visible through the opening.</p> <p>After several more seconds, the group finally stopped midway through the alley's passageway.</p> <p>Barlowe extended her arm towards the nearby wall, using it as leverage while she regained her senses. Madden and Ra likewise plopped down on the cold pavement of the opposite side, several meters away from an empty dumpster and some hanging rope that had been haphazardly strewn from an open window above. Silence endured for what seemed like an eternity before Madden finally looked towards his partners.</p> <p>"So, what's the plan now?"</p> <hr/> <p>"<tt>I am not picking up any Foundation signatures in this alleyway.</tt>"</p> <p>"Well, that's not a good start," muttered Madden as he dragged his finger across the mortar of the wall.</p> <p>"Assuming the <a href="/pickman-blank-proposal">Frontispiece</a> holds here, getting in touch with the Foundation shouldn't be too much trouble," Robert said, idly scrolling through his phone. "Looking nearby, we've got no Spicy Crust Pizzerias, no S & C Plastics, nor any—"</p> <p>He paused. "There we go! A Smith, Collins, and Partners. About 10 minutes up the road."</p> <p>"What'd they do there?" Ann asked.</p> <p>"It's fronted as some financial firm doing some accountancy or another. Should be able to just waltz in and talk to whoever's at the front desk," Robert replied. Looking to the group, he got a non-commital shrug from Ann and a nod from Ra, which he took as enough approval to lead the way. They wandered through the city streets, trying not to think about the spectacle Ra was making just by existing: even by New York standards, a two-meter android was quite the sight to behold. Eventually, with a polite <em>DING</em> from Madden's phone, they ended up at the foot of a sprawling glass skyscraper. Upon entering, Ann strode towards a meek-looking secretary on the other side of the floor.</p> <p>"How can I—" the secretary tried to begin.</p> <p>"We're with the Foundation," Ann declared firmly. "TL-1911, Universe-C-02485-Gamma-468."</p> <p>The secretary was giving her a strange look.</p> <p>"Through the activation of a complex paratechnology, we planned to finally bridge the multiverse in a permanent and safe manner. Something went wrong, and now we're stuck. In our timeline, we called it SCP-6172, and we know you've got one here too. Who's the director of Ontokinetics in this world?"</p> <p>The woman fidgeted with something behind her desk. "Right. If you'll just stay exactly where you are…"</p> <p>Ra's voice whispered inside their headpieces, "<tt>Her heart rate is accelerated. Eye motion is consistent with evasion and deception. This is consistent with a stress response.</tt>"</p> <p>Barlowe looked over at Robert, the realization dawning on the both of them.</p> <p>"Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered. She grabbed him by the back of his coat and dragged him out of the building, Ra following inconspicuously behind them. They left just as a security guard arrived in the lobby. None of them noticed him pull out a United Nations Global Occult Coalition superluminal communicator and whisper a set of clipped codewords into it.</p> <hr/> <p>The three sat awkwardly in a coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn. The crowd was eclectic. There was a healthy mix of beleaguered college students, artists of various sorts, and hipsters, many with dyed hair and tattoos, all buried in their Macbooks and artisan drinks. None of them seemed to think Ra was strange at all.</p> <p>Ra broke the silence, "<tt>Regular Foundation backchannels are currently inaccessible. Agent extraction hotlines that I have clearance for are either non-existent or registered to civilian addresses. There is no registered email with our Foundation's domain, and attempts to connect to any Foundation intranet systems have failed. The Frontispiece is either beyond my abilities to overcome, or simply is not present.</tt>"</p> <p>The other looked at her nervously.</p> <p>"<tt>If this universe has a Foundation, they are exceedingly good at hiding it.</tt>" Barlowe and Robert just looked at Ra, processing.</p> <p>"So we're fucked then," Barlowe said, with a large sigh. "We're in the middle of a city in a universe that's god knows how different with a two-meter robot, no money, and no clue on how the hell we get home."</p> <p>"The Veil is intact," Robert chimed in. "Judging from the reactions everyone's having to Ra's body, people aren't used to this sort of thing. There's somebody out there keeping the anomalous world in check, be it Foundation or not."</p> <p>Ra grunted. "<tt>It is extremely unlikely the Foundation exists in a form we would recognize.</tt>"</p> <p>Ann spread her arms. "So what <em>is</em> there?"</p> <p>"<tt>There are no other .aics in the Cybersphere. It is dominated by the Servants of the Silicon Nornir. All other digital consciousnesses are of Maxwellist origin,</tt>" Ra said. "<tt>My estimate is that the internet is dominated largely by the Global Occult Coalition.</tt>"</p> <p>"What does the Multi-Foundation Pact of 1981 say about worlds where the Coalition is in control anyways?" Robert asked.</p> <p>"<tt>I do not know,</tt>" Ra said. "<tt>Information about the Pact is shared on a need-to-know basis. 99% of our trajectories had us landing in pact signatory timelines. Unfortunately, our timeline's slow transition to Vanguard has left us bureaucratically in limbo with regard to a number of the data-sharing provisions.</tt>"</p> <p>"So then we're double fucked!" Barlowe exclaimed. "We're stuck in an unknown universe with no idea how to get home, doing nothing but drawing attention to ourselves while god-knows-who is probably already looking for us to, best case scenario, stick us in a box for the rest of our lives — or, knowing the Coalition, put us down."</p> <p>"We need to find a place to bunker down while we work out the location of this universe's 6172-1. Any ideas?" Robert said. Barlowe shrugged and put her head in his hands, looking defeated.</p> <p>"<tt>I have two leads. A Dr. Robert Madden currently teaching Mathematics at New York University. Quite renowned in terms of papers published. 40 minutes away by public transit. Alternatively, a Ms. Ann Barlowe who owns a New-Age Paraphernalia shop, less than ten minutes away. Both are suboptimal. Given that this dimension seems reasonably safe and the proximity, I would suggest a method of divide and conquer.</tt>"</p> <p>Barlowe smiled. "Well, Robert — do you think you'd help an alternate universe clone run from the shadow government if they turned up on your doorstep?"</p> <p>He looked her dead in the eye. Barlowe paused, then nodded. "Neither would I. Let's hope these other us are nicer."</p> <hr/> <p>Dr. Robert Madden, 29, professor of mathematics, was largely happy with his job. He was on track to get tenure by 40, and his office, while small and cramped, had a decent view of the southeastern corner of Washington Square. Sure, the salary was shit, and most of his students didn't pay that much attention, but at the end of the day he was paid to sit around and write about things that didn't exist, so he didn't really complain.</p> <p>"And with that, we can clearly show that in the case of a 2-torus, f of p <em>can</em> in fact be zero, whereas for the 2-sphere, it cannot," Professor Robert Madden said. He paused, and looked around the room. "Any questions?"</p> <p>Normally, math undergrads didn't ask questions. They also didn't come to office hours. Professor Madden didn't like that part of the job, because he liked teaching students who were actually engaged.</p> <p>"Professor," said someone who was clearly doing a funny voice, "if you were to build a superconducting torus, coat it with metamaterial nanotubes with aligned brushes, and run an electric current through it, could you tear a hole in the space-time continuum?"</p> <p>He smiled a faint smile. "That is firmly in the realm of science fiction," Professor Madden chuckled. "I've liked a good multiverse story ever since 1986, but this is all in the world of ideas. Even if the multiverse was real, I can't imagine how the Hairy Ball Theorem would apply to it." He clapped his hands, and turned to see if anybody else had any further questions. They did not. "If that's it, class is dismissed."</p> <p>Everyone filtered out. All save one, a student in a large oversized hoodie, who had brought an art project with him — some sort of two-meter-tall mannequin. He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.</p> <p>"I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you here to audit the class?" Professor Madden said. He was suspicious, of course. As a mathematics professor, he got all sorts of emails from cranks who thought they could prove 2 + 2 = 5 or some other inane subject. Briefly, he wondered if he should've insisted on walking on talking, but he was fairly confident in his Krav Maga skills.</p> <p>The hooded figure flipped down its hoodie, and Professor Madden came face to face with himself.</p> <p>"I'm afraid," said Robert, "that it's not the realm of science fiction after all."</p> <hr/> <p>The Aethers, the fundamental forces of the universe alchemists like Ann manipulated to their liking, were bound here — even without the Foundation, some group maintained the Great Seal. Barlowe wrapped herself in air and darkness, twisted wind and water around herself to become unseeable to the unobservant, which surprisingly applied to the supposedly enlightened clients of mainstream occult shops in this dimension.</p> <p>Other-Ann's shop was kitsch, filled with knickknacks with no magical or alchemical or Aetheric potency — various rocks and dried herbs and noisemakers. As a Foundation Alchemist, Barlowe knew her field wasn't quite the same as the various forms of magics others used, but it was close enough. This, however — this was as far from actual magic as was probably possible.</p> <p>The most unbelievable thing to Barlowe was that her counterpart could afford New York City rents. The second was how… bubbly she seemed. This other-Ann was someone Barlowe didn't recognize, someone who didn't understand the meaning of hard work and application, long nights studying Aetheric theory and watching for incursions on reality by the Scarlet King and Cerulean Duke and Xanthic Marquis and Violet Archon.</p> <p>The third was the bullshit other-Ann was spewing.</p> <p>"Clear quartz is a pretty good energetic amplifier for any kind of energy work you might want to do," other-Ann was saying. "So if you're starting a basic setup, I think this pyramid would be a good fit as your centerpiece. The sacred geometry will capture the Solar Orgone and as a side benefit, you won't have to worry about the fire risk you'd have to deal with from a crystal ball. Only fifty bucks."</p> <p>The customer thanked her profusely. The two walked over to the cash register, as other-Ann gave suggestions on what else the customer could buy — a small turquoise for water and wealth, a small chunk of amber for fire and love, and a Tarot deck to make sense of it all. All for a price, of course.</p> <p>Barlowe bit back a hiss. She could see two possibilities. Either other-Ann was a charlatan and a scammer — or worse, she was a true believer.</p> <p>"Of course," other-Ann said with a smile. She rang the customer out, smiling all the while.</p> <p>When the customer left, other-Ann changed. She let out a slow, deep breath, and she sagged upon herself. Ann suddenly noticed her nails were bitten short — not neatly clipped, bitten — and she looked significantly more frazzled. It was almost like she just gained five years.</p> <p>"And that…" she muttered, "tips us over into the black for the month. Just barely."</p> <p>Barlowe tried not to roll her eyes; instead, she shook her head, and bumped a gaudy statue of a golden cat. Its arm didn't stop moving up and down. She just managed to catch it a second before it hit the ground.</p> <p>Other-Ann had still noticed. "Is someone there?"</p> <p>Barlowe held her breath. Other-Ann still seemed suspicious; her eyes narrowed, she stuck a cigarette in her mouth before, opened a cabinet under the counter, and pulled out a bundle of herbs and a wooden stick. She held the herbs aloft and lit both them and the cigarette in one smooth motion. Then she held the wooden stick up in a threatening manner. It was supposed to be a wand, Barlowe realized. And it was almost certainly worthless.</p> <p>This woman was of no danger.</p> <p>With one quick movement of her hand, Barlowe dropped her Aetheric cloaking.</p> <p>Fear and confusion flashed across other-Ann's face, along with what almost could've been awe. "What… are you?"</p> <p>Barlowe didn't say anything.</p> <p>Noticing Barlowe's alchemist equipment, Other-Ann's eyes widened even more. "Shapeshifter? Clone? Alien? Hallucination?"</p> <p>"Alternate universe," Barlowe said. She sighed.</p> <p>Other-Ann looked her up and down. "Wow. You look terrible."</p> <p><em>And you look fat,</em> Barlowe thought, even though she knew it wasn't true. Other-Ann was maybe 5 kilograms heavier than Barlowe was, and maybe 10 kilograms above her goal weight.</p> <p>Other-Ann scratched her chin, and turned to face her desk. "That's fascinating, though. Do you want some tea? I have mint. Tell me how you got here."</p> <hr/> <p>Professor Madden leaned back in his chair. "That is fascinating. Truly fascinating. So you're telling me that the men in black hired you because you were good at math—"</p> <p>"<a href="/fresh-blood">A probabilistic anomaly, actually</a>. Over the course of my professional career, any mathematical research topics I gravitate towards are slightly more likely to manifest anomalous properties," Robert said, as he peered through Professor Madden's office window. There was something nice about being so far up — as opposed to his regular habitat in the underground complex of <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-120">Site-120</a> — though the buildings of the NYU campus were far too cramped to see anything of the Manhattan skyline. Crowds of college students drifted through the streets below. They looked like children.</p> <p>"Like… summoning Cthulthu using fractals," Professor Madden said.</p> <p>Madden nodded. "<em>The Laundry Files</em> by Charles Stross. But yeah, we have <a href="/scp-1512">a few of those</a>."</p> <p>"Can you control it?"</p> <p>Robert shook his head. "I'm not a parabiologist. Maybe one of them might have some idea of the mechanism of action, but… I just do my job, most of the time."</p> <p>Professor Madden raised an amused eyebrow. "And sometimes that job involves jumping headfirst into a broken multiversal portal."</p> <p>Robert didn't answer him. Professor Madden sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I'm jealous."</p> <p>Robert scoffed. "You started on tenure track at <em>25</em>. That's absurdly low."</p> <p>"Oh, I know how lucky I am. But you — you get to live every kid's dream. Being a mad scientist. Like Rick from <em>Rick and Morty</em>." Professor Madden smiled. Robert narrowed his eyes.</p> <p>"Ending up stranded away from home in a hostile universe, more like."</p> <p>Professor Madden quieted down at that. "Sorry," he said. "Wasn't thinking."</p> <p>Robert chuckled. "Don't worry. I get it."</p> <p>There was an awkward silence, but Professor Madden seemed to get an idea.</p> <p>"Here's a list of all my open projects — any of them look familiar? Might as well share ideas while you're here?"</p> <p>"Even knowing about the Global Occult Coalition?"</p> <p>"I'm a research mathematician. You really think they won't have any jobs for me?"</p> <p>Madden shrugged. "Heh. If you say so."</p> <p>Robert glanced at the page. "<a href="/scp-5772">Navier-Stokes</a> — definitely worth looking through. This extra field of— well, I think my home dimension calls them <a href="/the-set-of-all-numbers-which-might-be-bears">'Mirage Numbers'</a>, but honestly <a href="/scp-1313">I'd steer clear of them.</a>" He scratched his chin, and corrected his glasses. "Let's see what else…"</p> <hr/> <p>"Well, I'm also a Discordian Pope," other-Ann said, twirling her dyed-black hair around her finger.</p> <p>"Everyone's a Discordian Pope." Barlowe sighed. She took a sip of her tea, which was surprisingly pleasant. It had a certain sting to it. She appreciated it. "It's a parody religion and that's the whole point."</p> <p>"Yeah, you got me beat," other-Ann said, throwing her hands up. "How am I supposed to compete with an actual Elder of a mystical order?"</p> <p>Ann shrugged. For a few moments, silence lay between them; she used it to scan her alternate twin's shop. Upon closer inspection, the dust-ridden corners became much more apparent. As did the fungus-covered ceiling. "How's business?"</p> <p>Other-Ann raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?"</p> <p>"Is the money good?"</p> <p>"That's private."</p> <p>Ann sighed. "Look, are you happy?"</p> <p>"My life is good." She considered it for a moment, looking at Ann's cape and pendants. "But I would trade it in an instant for what you have."</p> <p>"You could still get here. Find the right places, talk to the right people, spend the next twelve years of your life studying Aetheric forces—"</p> <p>"Assuming I didn't fall down another wild goose chase like the one that led me here."</p> <p>Barlowe fell silent. She recognized the other woman's poised frustration, the true magnitude of her anger held in and filtered to be palatable for an audience. Her own interest in the occult had started in her teens, and if she'd followed a different path, and stayed on this side of the Veil and within the constraints of what she thought was possible, she could've easily ended up like this other version of herself. She suddenly became acutely aware of that fact. She did not like it.</p> <p>"I guess it's good you're here, then." She smiled a faint smile. "If your powers work in this universe, then that's something that I can know for sure is real."</p> <p>Barlowe marveled for a brief moment at just how optimistic this other version of her managed to be.</p> <p>"Why did you come to me?" Other-Ann said. "As much as I'd love to believe you came to enlighten me on the truth of the universe, you must've known I was living on wishful thinking. You could've gone with your colleague to see the math professor. Not some… half-baked fraud."</p> <p>Barlowe honestly didn't have an answer for her. For a moment, she stayed silent.</p> <hr/> <p>Alarms suddenly blared. Professor Madden looked at them, surprised; Robert Madden looked at them, concerned. They exchanged a quick look.</p> <p>"Huh. We weren't scheduled for a fire drill today," Professor Madden said.</p> <p>Robert was already standing up. "This is no fire drill. This is them. The Coalition. Are there any secret exits?"</p> <p>"We're in the middle of lower Manhattan," Professor Madden exclaimed. "No, there aren't any secret exits, there are streets on every side."</p> <p>"<tt>Get to the roof,</tt>" Ra said in Madden's ear. "<tt>I'm sending Barlowe to extract you.</tt>"</p> <p>They took the stairs, going in the opposite direction as everyone else. If it wasn't for the fact one of them was a Professor and the other a two-meter-robot, Madden was pretty sure they would have gotten buried under the mass of the student body.</p> <p>When they reached the top, Professor Madden suddenly looked at his alternate twin. "Do you want to make out?" he said, his face entirely serious.</p> <p>Robert blinked. "No, not really."</p> <p>Other-Robert nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, good. Me neither. It's weird. Still, in some books—"</p> <p>"Heinlein?"</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <hr/> <p>"Do you want to make out?" Other-Ann said.</p> <p>Barlowe flushed. She was grateful to hear Ra buzz in her ear. "<tt>We need extraction. Rooftop, 251 Mercer Street. West by Northwest, approximately 11 kilometers.</tt>"</p> <p>She immediately stood up, and started to walk towards the exit doors. "And what do I do once I get you?"</p> <p>"Is that for me or…?" other-Ann asked. Barlowe raised up a finger to hush her, and touched her ear for emphasis. Other-Ann got it.</p> <p>"<tt>Did a self-proclaimed witch really have no connections to the Serpent's Hand?</tt>" Ra sighed. "<tt>We will have to improvise, then.</tt>"</p> <p>"Look," other-Ann said, "forget I mentioned it—"</p> <p>"I didn't say no, but I have to run," Barlowe said, and opened the door leading outside. "The men in black are coming for my colleague. They have guns. We can discuss whatever the fuck you just suggested once I make it back alive."</p> <p>Other-Ann just shrugged, but followed the alchemist.</p> <p>With one quick movement of Ann's hand, the ground suddenly hiccupped beneath them, flinging through the air, in great leaps and bounds. Other-Ann screamed; the sound quickly turned from surprised shock to triumphant satisfaction, as the wind started to blow in their hair. The asphalt and concrete of New York City reached out and became Ann's, the Aethers present inside them willing nothing but to obey the order of their new mistress. It bent to soften their landings, sending them skyward once more. In a matter of seconds, they jumped from the depths of Brooklyn to the East River, and from there she flung them towards Manhattan.</p> <p>At the peak of her arc, halfway towards the island, she felt the Aethers weaken. The Aethers of Manhattan were muted, ever so slightly beyond her reach. The earth merely flinched, instead of bending. She furrowed her brows. Swiftly, she drew upon the Aethers of water and air, wrapping herself in a cocoon of miniature storm. She couldn't hope to change their trajectory to try to turn back to Brooklyn or land more softly. All she could do was wrap the air and water around herself as tightly as possible to break her inevitable fall.</p> <p>They crashed on the ground, not hard enough to break any bones, but more than enough to knock the wind — both metaphorical and literal — off her. Other-Ann similarly struggled to catch a breath. The air and water Aethers quickly dissipated, unbound to her will. Manhattan was Aetherically dead. This was not normal. She furrowed her brows even further.</p> <p>There was a sudden screech of tires on concrete. As black vans rushed to surround them, Ann looked north and saw the imposing hulk of the United Nations headquarters, just 40 streets away. She sighed.</p> <hr/> <p>"<tt>Bad news,</tt>" Ra said. "<tt>Barlowe's been intercepted.</tt>"</p> <p>The students had been evacuated; they were both standing on the roof of the building, now. The entirety of the neighborhood around them was more than visible. They immediately became acutely aware that West 4th and Mercer Street were filled with black vans, the skies awash with similarly-colored helicopters. A spark of panic in his eyes, Madden looked all around them, trying to see any possible exit that wasn't just the stairs again. He found none.</p> <p>He closed his eyes, and exhaled. "Well, fuck."</p> <hr/> <p>The Coalition kept them in separate cells.</p> <p>Robert had some idea of how this would go. He wasn't personally involved in most interrogations — Site-120 was far from a facility that really dealt with such things — but from what he's been told by his colleagues from -19, the Foundation often isolated and starved its captives until being offered a glass of water was enough to make them reveal anything. Worst yet, similar rumors painted the Coalition as even a bigger bitch. Neither of those facts really put confidence into him, but their current situation did mean that they weren't going to get killed, he supposed.</p> <p>Yet, anyhow.</p> <p>He looked around the room. It was very little more than a two-by-two-by-two concrete box. They didn't even provide him with a bed. Or a toilet. He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to having to wait it out.</p> <p>Turns out, he didn't have to.</p> <p>A sudden buzz came to his ears. "<tt>Madden. Are you conscious?</tt>"</p> <p>Madden stood up. "Ra? Is that you?"</p> <p>"<tt>Affirmative. Barlowe is unharmed, but she is chained with beryllium bronze handcuffs that restrict her powers.</tt>"</p> <p>He was pacing around the cell, now; he knew it was an exercise bordering on futility, but an exercise nonetheless. "How come you can reach us both?"</p> <p>"<tt>The Silicon Nornir are under high demand — something about a Maxwellist insurgence in Eurtec — and our presence has been downgraded to a lower priority.</tt>" Madden resisted the urge to treat it like an insult. "<tt>They didn't scan you for implants, and they assumed I was constrained to this robot body. I am not. I have partially integrated into their internet.</tt>"</p> <p>She paused. He stopped, and started tapping the floor with his foot impatiently.</p> <p>Ra continued, "<tt>My understanding is that they have captured both of your alternate universe counterparts. How would you like to proceed?</tt>"</p> <p>He scratched his chin. "We need to free the other me," Robert said. "I talked about math with him. There are good odds he knows too much, at least by Coalition standards."</p> <p>"<tt>And the other Ann Barlowe?</tt>"</p> <p>"We can leave her," Barlowe said, her voice coming through to Madden's ears by a bridge in Ra's own audio. "She's harmless. And a fraud. The Coalition will debrief her and let her go. Maybe put her through amnestics."</p> <p><tt>"If they don't, do you want that risk on your conscience?</tt>"</p> <p>Ann sighed. "She's a civilian with delusions of being a real witch. Yes, I do want to risk it. Now bust us out, Ra."</p> <p>Another pause, this time one that somehow felt more thoughtful.</p> <p>"<tt>I cannot.</tt>"</p> <p>"What? Why not?" Ann's voice hardened.</p> <p>"<tt>My body is contained within a Faraday Cage and I have no current awareness of its actions nor any ability to direct its functions. Like I said, best I can do is access the internet.</tt>"</p> <p>Ann threw her hands in the air. Madden could tell, because he felt them reach the concrete walls of her own cell. "So hack the locks!"</p> <p>"<tt>All of the locks are mechanical.</tt>"</p> <p>"What kind of Coalition facility is using mechanical locks?!"</p> <p>"<tt>I do not know.</tt>"</p> <p>"So we're still fucked, then!" She scoffed. "Thanks. Just great, Ra."</p> <p>"Look, if I—" Robert started.</p> <p>"Wait. I hear something," Barlowe said. "I think they're coming for me."</p> <hr/> <p>There was a sudden crash near the doors of Ann's cell, and they started to slowly turn open, blasting the previously-dark room with blinding light. Ann backed off, putting her hands up; they might've been immobilized and magically grounded, but with her new irrilite arm and years of training, she could still land one hell of a punch. Still, the light made her instinctively narrow her eyes.</p> <p>When she opened them again a second later, she could make out a tall figure standing in front of her. She blinked twice.</p> <p>It was other-Ann.</p> <p>Ann shook her head in shock. "How did you get out?"</p> <p>Other-Ann held up a hairpin. "Taught myself how to pick locks when I was 17."</p> <p>"Oh." Barlowe had been the same age when she'd first tested her copy of the Lesser Key of Solomon. Still, she didn't complain; especially considering the fact that other-Ann was now reaching for Ann's own manacles. With one quick movement, they popped open and fell to the ground. Ann was pretty sure that bang that resulted from the beryllium bronze meeting the concrete could be heard on the other side of the Solar System.</p> <p>"I think they caught a few other guys," other-Ann said, already turning towards the doors to the cell. "Any idea if they're the ones you want?"</p> <p>Barlowe just shot her a grin. "High time to find out."</p> <hr/> <p>With Ra's spatial awareness of the building and her communication module, Ann's Aetheric veil — now once again drawn over the two women — and other-Ann's lockpicking skills, finding Ra's body and the two Maddens was a piece of cake.</p> <p>"So," Robert said, nervously looking around the corridor they now stood in. They weren't yet noticed, but with what he knew of the Coalition, they weren't a stranger to masking magic. "What do we do now?"</p> <p>"<tt>Well,</tt>" Ra said, now once again rejoicing in having a body. "<tt>I believe the best course of action would be—</tt>"</p> <p>"Wait." Professor Madden raised his finger. "I recognize this place. This is Brookhaven National Laboratory. We're pretty far from the city. Deep into Long Island."</p> <p>Robert raised an eyebrow. "Why would they bring us to the other side of Long Island? The UN is—"</p> <p>"Do you really think they'd use the United Nations as a prison block?" Ann said.</p> <p>"They do nuclear energy research here," said Professor Madden. "High energy particle collisions. Some pretty powerful cyclotrons."</p> <p>"<tt>The last thing you want is to move to untested systems when you're dealing with nuclear warheads,</tt>" Ra continued his thought. "<tt>The mechanical locks then make sense.</tt>"</p> <p>"So how fucked are we?" other-Ann said. "Are we white-collar-slap-on-the-wrist criminals or war criminals?"</p> <p>"We don't know," said Robert. "I don't even know how much I know about the Coalition from my home universe. I would've expected them to liquidate us by now. If they still haven't, they have a reason to keep us around."</p> <p>"That's a euphemism for 'kill', I think," Professor Madden helpfully provided, flashing a quick smile. It fell down a moment later, when he truly realized the ramification of what he'd just said.</p> <p>Other-Ann sighed. "Cheerful. How do we get out of here?"</p> <p>"Well—" Barlowe started.</p> <p>Suddenly, to the sound of sirens, red light came to life all around them. The group all exchanged a worried look, Ra's head monitor displaying a concerned 8bit face. Before any of them could move, from the distance came the muffled sound of orders being thrown around and heavy boots meeting the concrete floor below them. All five swallowed — Ra obviously notwithstanding — and glanced at each other once more.</p> <p>Without hesitation, they all nodded, and started running with all the strength still remaining in their legs.</p> <p>"<tt>There is an unused storage space, unmarked on the maps, fifteen meters right and then two meters left,</tt>" Ra whispered into their earpieces. "<tt>If we just—</tt>"</p> <p>Ann shook her head. "Just take us there!"</p> <p>The android nodded, and took the lead.</p> <p>And so they ran and ran, until — with Ra's help — they reached a single unremarkable door. It had no room number or placard to indicate what was inside. Ra eyed it quickly and nodded once. With one movement of her metallic body, she opened the door, and entered through into the buzzing darkness inside. The group quickly followed.</p> <p>When they were all inside Ann snapped her fingers, and a flame came to life atop her fingertip. It soon rose to be a large flame, casting a brilliant light before the five; their shadows were larger than each of them.</p> <p>They all suddenly blinked — Ra helpfully refreshing her feed to see if what she was seeing was in fact reality — when they realized what was actually before them.</p> <p>"Oh," Robert said staring at the hexagonal frame that stood not two meters in front of them. Its inside was buzzing with life, as if already having anticipated the interdimensional travelers.</p> <p>"That's terribly convenient," Professor Madden said, crossing his arms. He turned to face Ra. "You sure this the place?"</p> <p>"<tt>Internal Coalition data calls this a storage room for retired projects. By all means, their version of 6172 should not be working.</tt>"</p> <p>"Well." Other-Ann shrugged. "Maybe it's destiny. Or something."</p> <p>"Oh for—" Barlowe tried to say, but was rudely interrupted by the doors breaking down. What followed behind them was a toe-to-head armed squad of Coalition agents, their guns pointed at all five. Worst yet, the first agent grabbed the nearest-standing Professor Madden, the gesture very clearly indicating he's taken him hostage. That stopped Ann's hand from reaching further up, the Aetheric forces already gathering around her fingertips. She groaned.</p> <p>"Everybody freeze!" the agent said. "By section B/29-A of the Global Paralaw Charter, you are all under arrest for crimes against reality! Surrender now, and we won't hurt y—"</p> <p>Before he could finish, Ann just shrugged and snapped the fingers of her metallic arm. In an instant, the concrete before them rose up and grabbed all of the Coalition agents; now free, Professor Madden fell to the floor. The other Madden meanwhile — alongside Ra — was already on his way towards the Portal. He looked concerned at Ann, then turned his sight towards his alternate twin. The agents around them were already starting to get out of their concrete prisons.</p> <p>The professor just shook his head. "Go. I'll live."</p> <p>"No," said Robert; it was very clear he could not decide whether he should take a step forward or backward. "I… I can't leave you here!"</p> <p>"Don't worry," said Professor Madden, flashing him a grin. "I will get a job with the shadow government. It worked for you."</p> <p>Madden turned to face Ann, as if looking for support. She remained still, as did her alternate self, who looked as if she had already accepted her fate. "I can't just ditch him like this!" He said. "He's a civilian. They will skin him alive for fighting the shadow government. Can't we take them with us?"</p> <p>Ra shook her head. "<tt>They are of this world. Their crossing over would destabilize the portal.</tt>"</p> <p>"Then… Then I will stay and fight, goddamnit!" the lanky scientist shouted, planting his leg firmly on the ground. Ann just sighed. "I will—"</p> <p>Before he could finish, two firm arms — one made of irrilite, the other of steel — grabbed him by his shoulders, and thew him right into the portal, leaving Professor Madden and other-Ann to their own fates.</p> <hr/> <p>In a different world and in a different time, baseline reality James Micheals followed closely behind Ethan MacCarthy Jr.</p> <p>"You sure you got their cross-dimensional signatures?" the latter said, tapping a few things on his tablet. He did not slow his pace. "Asheworth said that the rescue ritual absolutely requires that you—"</p> <p>"Y-Yes, yes. I do. A-All of my personnel give them up the first day of work," the ontokineticist replied.</p> <p>"Fantastic," the other man said. "Then we are good to go."</p> <p>For a few more moments, the two walked the immaculately white halls of Site-120 until they reached a door, the letters upon it reading 'Ritual Site 120/B/16'. Ethan took its handle and pushed it down firmly, inviting his friend to enter through. He complied, and Ethan soon joined him.</p> <p>Inside the relatively small room there stood twenty hooded figures. They were gathered around a ritual circle engraved upon the ground, candles burning with purple flames located at each of its ends. All of the people were silent, gathering focus for the large rite that was about to follow. They did not react to the two men entering. Nonetheless, when the two saw them, both of the scientists smiled.</p> <p>"So," Ethan said, clasping his hands together. He first looked at the figures gathered before him, already awaiting his orders, and then at his collegue, excited anticipation dancing in his eyes. "Shall we begin?"</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-flase earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Stranded Lullaby"> <p><a href="/stranded-lullaby">Stranded Lullaby</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Chronicles of the Irreal"> <p><a href="/chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub">Chronicles of the Irreal</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Time Machine"> <p><a href="/time-machine-en">Time Machine</a></p> </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="/the-mind-electric">The Mind Electric</a>" by Limeyy, LORDXVNV, and Ralliston, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-mind-electric">https://scpwiki.com/the-mind-electric</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> skyline.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Manhattan Bridge NYC 2014.JPG<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Lesekreis<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Manhattan_Bridge_NYC_2014.JPG">Wikimedia Commons</a></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/component:bhl-dark-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:bhl-dark-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/theme:the-coalition-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:the-coalition-theme</a>]] [[module CSS]] #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] Co-written by [[user Limeyy]], [[user LORDXVNV]], and [[user Ralliston]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/limey-s-citrus-corner Limeyy's Authorpage]* [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lordxvnv LORDXVNV's Authorpage] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage Ralliston's Authorpage] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] + ##275495\|Threat Entity Database Entry## +++ ##5C95E6\|Threat ID:## KTE-7395-Blue-Moro-Ragweed ("Quantum Leap") [[size large]] ##5C95E6\|Authorized Response Level:## [[/size]] ##red\| [[size large]] 3 [[/size]]## (Moderate Threat) Description: Threat entity consists of 3 individuals originating from outside baseline reality with unknown objective, presumed hostile to Coalition forces. [[div_ style="opacity: .75"]] KTE-7395-Alfa is a Type-Blue humanoid with yet unclear thaumaturgical abilities centered on transfiguration of matter. KTE-7395-Bravo is a Moro-class Artificial Intelligence equipped with a constructed body significantly ahead of existing paratechnology, full capabilities unknown. KTE-7395-Charlie appears to be a baseline human with no further anomalous traits beyond the association with KTE-7395-Blue-Moro-Ragweed and spontaneous appearance.[[/div]] [[span style="opacity: .5"]]Threat entity manifested in New York, USA on 23/02/2015, causing public spectacle before fleeing the scene. Current whereabouts unknown, prompting the mobilization of PHYSICS Strike Teams 0192 through 0194. Current reconnaissance efforts cover the Eastern American Coast, with low-priority surveillance worldwide to account for unknown anomalous forms of transport.[[/span]] [[span style="opacity: .25"]]Due to unknown potential thaumaturgical ability, engagement is to be kept to observation until a better understanding of KTE-7935-Blue-Moro-Ragweed can be garnered.[[/span]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[image skyline.png style="width:100%"]] ----- With a near-deafening //CRACK//, [[[scp-6172\|Robert Madden, Ann Barlowe, and Ra]]] stumbled into existence -- much to the surprise of everyone else trying to enjoy a regular Saturday morning. The group manifested on the sidewalk of a busy city street; Ra and Barlowe were lucky enough to have remained on their feet, while Madden stumbled onto the ground, his face meeting the pavement as reality itself stabilized around them. The pedestrians nearby were speechless, and the group surrounding them was only getting larger and larger. Madden only barely had time to groan and shake the pain from his face before a commotion began arising. Panic and anxiety quickly rose in his lungs. He had forgotten just how much he hated crowds. He quickly sat up, scanning the group of pedestrians for any signs of his colleagues. "Ann? Ann, where are you?!" "Behind you, dumbass," Barlowe whispered, dragging Madden to his feet by the collar while Ra followed from behind. "{{Given the infrastructure and local GPS reporting, it appears we are several kilometers from downtown New York City,}}" the .aic said, her voice reverberating through her [[[stranded-lullaby\|newly-acquired android body]]]. Barlowe scanned the crowd for any signs of an exit. Being trapped in an unknown universe and a completely foreign city was one thing, but being surrounded by a growing mob was another issue entirely. In the distance, the echoes of sirens rang incessantly in the alchemist's ears. Either those sounds were a blessing or a curse, but having just barely escaped with their lives from the universe prior, she wasn't about to test her luck with the authorities now. After another glance around her vicinity, she finally noticed it: an opening into a vacant alleyway on her left side. She locked eyes with Madden and gave him a nod towards its general vicinity. Grabbing each other by the wrists, the group fought their way past the mob -- doing their best to remain inconspicuous despite the onlooker's stares -- until they finally reached their destination. Further they walked until the mob behind them was no longer visible through the opening. After several more seconds, the group finally stopped midway through the alley's passageway. Barlowe extended her arm towards the nearby wall, using it as leverage while she regained her senses. Madden and Ra likewise plopped down on the cold pavement of the opposite side, several meters away from an empty dumpster and some hanging rope that had been haphazardly strewn from an open window above. Silence endured for what seemed like an eternity before Madden finally looked towards his partners. "So, what's the plan now?" ---- "{{I am not picking up any Foundation signatures in this alleyway.}}" "Well, that's not a good start," muttered Madden as he dragged his finger across the mortar of the wall. "Assuming the [[[pickman-blank-proposal\|Frontispiece]]] holds here, getting in touch with the Foundation shouldn't be too much trouble," Robert said, idly scrolling through his phone. "Looking nearby, we've got no Spicy Crust Pizzerias, no S & C Plastics, nor any--" He paused. "There we go! A Smith, Collins, and Partners. About 10 minutes up the road." "What'd they do there?" Ann asked. "It's fronted as some financial firm doing some accountancy or another. Should be able to just waltz in and talk to whoever's at the front desk," Robert replied. Looking to the group, he got a non-commital shrug from Ann and a nod from Ra, which he took as enough approval to lead the way. They wandered through the city streets, trying not to think about the spectacle Ra was making just by existing: even by New York standards, a two-meter android was quite the sight to behold. Eventually, with a polite //DING// from Madden's phone, they ended up at the foot of a sprawling glass skyscraper. Upon entering, Ann strode towards a meek-looking secretary on the other side of the floor. "How can I--" the secretary tried to begin. "We're with the Foundation," Ann declared firmly. "TL-1911, Universe-C-02485-Gamma-468." The secretary was giving her a strange look. "Through the activation of a complex paratechnology, we planned to finally bridge the multiverse in a permanent and safe manner. Something went wrong, and now we're stuck. In our timeline, we called it SCP-6172, and we know you've got one here too. Who's the director of Ontokinetics in this world?" The woman fidgeted with something behind her desk. "Right. If you'll just stay exactly where you are..." Ra's voice whispered inside their headpieces, "{{Her heart rate is accelerated. Eye motion is consistent with evasion and deception. This is consistent with a stress response.}}" Barlowe looked over at Robert, the realization dawning on the both of them. "Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered. She grabbed him by the back of his coat and dragged him out of the building, Ra following inconspicuously behind them. They left just as a security guard arrived in the lobby. None of them noticed him pull out a United Nations Global Occult Coalition superluminal communicator and whisper a set of clipped codewords into it. ------ The three sat awkwardly in a coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn. The crowd was eclectic. There was a healthy mix of beleaguered college students, artists of various sorts, and hipsters, many with dyed hair and tattoos, all buried in their Macbooks and artisan drinks. None of them seemed to think Ra was strange at all. Ra broke the silence, "{{Regular Foundation backchannels are currently inaccessible. Agent extraction hotlines that I have clearance for are either non-existent or registered to civilian addresses. There is no registered email with our Foundation's domain, and attempts to connect to any Foundation intranet systems have failed. The Frontispiece is either beyond my abilities to overcome, or simply is not present.}}" The other looked at her nervously. "{{If this universe has a Foundation, they are exceedingly good at hiding it.}}" Barlowe and Robert just looked at Ra, processing. "So we're fucked then," Barlowe said, with a large sigh. "We're in the middle of a city in a universe that's god knows how different with a two-meter robot, no money, and no clue on how the hell we get home." "The Veil is intact," Robert chimed in. "Judging from the reactions everyone's having to Ra's body, people aren't used to this sort of thing. There's somebody out there keeping the anomalous world in check, be it Foundation or not." Ra grunted. "{{It is extremely unlikely the Foundation exists in a form we would recognize.}}" Ann spread her arms. "So what //is// there?" "{{There are no other .aics in the Cybersphere. It is dominated by the Servants of the Silicon Nornir. All other digital consciousnesses are of Maxwellist origin,}}" Ra said. "{{My estimate is that the internet is dominated largely by the Global Occult Coalition.}}" "What does the Multi-Foundation Pact of 1981 say about worlds where the Coalition is in control anyways?" Robert asked. "{{I do not know,}}" Ra said. "{{Information about the Pact is shared on a need-to-know basis. 99% of our trajectories had us landing in pact signatory timelines. Unfortunately, our timeline's slow transition to Vanguard has left us bureaucratically in limbo with regard to a number of the data-sharing provisions.}}" "So then we're double fucked!" Barlowe exclaimed. "We're stuck in an unknown universe with no idea how to get home, doing nothing but drawing attention to ourselves while god-knows-who is probably already looking for us to, best case scenario, stick us in a box for the rest of our lives -- or, knowing the Coalition, put us down." "We need to find a place to bunker down while we work out the location of this universe's 6172-1. Any ideas?" Robert said. Barlowe shrugged and put her head in his hands, looking defeated. "{{I have two leads. A Dr. Robert Madden currently teaching Mathematics at New York University. Quite renowned in terms of papers published. 40 minutes away by public transit. Alternatively, a Ms. Ann Barlowe who owns a New-Age Paraphernalia shop, less than ten minutes away. Both are suboptimal. Given that this dimension seems reasonably safe and the proximity, I would suggest a method of divide and conquer.}}" Barlowe smiled. "Well, Robert -- do you think you'd help an alternate universe clone run from the shadow government if they turned up on your doorstep?" He looked her dead in the eye. Barlowe paused, then nodded. "Neither would I. Let's hope these other us are nicer." ------ Dr. Robert Madden, 29, professor of mathematics, was largely happy with his job. He was on track to get tenure by 40, and his office, while small and cramped, had a decent view of the southeastern corner of Washington Square. Sure, the salary was shit, and most of his students didn't pay that much attention, but at the end of the day he was paid to sit around and write about things that didn't exist, so he didn't really complain. "And with that, we can clearly show that in the case of a 2-torus, f of p //can// in fact be zero, whereas for the 2-sphere, it cannot," Professor Robert Madden said. He paused, and looked around the room. "Any questions?" Normally, math undergrads didn't ask questions. They also didn't come to office hours. Professor Madden didn't like that part of the job, because he liked teaching students who were actually engaged. "Professor," said someone who was clearly doing a funny voice, "if you were to build a superconducting torus, coat it with metamaterial nanotubes with aligned brushes, and run an electric current through it, could you tear a hole in the space-time continuum?" He smiled a faint smile. "That is firmly in the realm of science fiction," Professor Madden chuckled. "I've liked a good multiverse story ever since 1986, but this is all in the world of ideas. Even if the multiverse was real, I can't imagine how the Hairy Ball Theorem would apply to it." He clapped his hands, and turned to see if anybody else had any further questions. They did not. "If that's it, class is dismissed." Everyone filtered out. All save one, a student in a large oversized hoodie, who had brought an art project with him -- some sort of two-meter-tall mannequin. He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you here to audit the class?" Professor Madden said. He was suspicious, of course. As a mathematics professor, he got all sorts of emails from cranks who thought they could prove 2 + 2 = 5 or some other inane subject. Briefly, he wondered if he should've insisted on walking on talking, but he was fairly confident in his Krav Maga skills. The hooded figure flipped down its hoodie, and Professor Madden came face to face with himself. "I'm afraid," said Robert, "that it's not the realm of science fiction after all." ------ The Aethers, the fundamental forces of the universe alchemists like Ann manipulated to their liking, were bound here -- even without the Foundation, some group maintained the Great Seal. Barlowe wrapped herself in air and darkness, twisted wind and water around herself to become unseeable to the unobservant, which surprisingly applied to the supposedly enlightened clients of mainstream occult shops in this dimension. Other-Ann's shop was kitsch, filled with knickknacks with no magical or alchemical or Aetheric potency -- various rocks and dried herbs and noisemakers. As a Foundation Alchemist, Barlowe knew her field wasn't quite the same as the various forms of magics others used, but it was close enough. This, however -- this was as far from actual magic as was probably possible. The most unbelievable thing to Barlowe was that her counterpart could afford New York City rents. The second was how... bubbly she seemed. This other-Ann was someone Barlowe didn't recognize, someone who didn't understand the meaning of hard work and application, long nights studying Aetheric theory and watching for incursions on reality by the Scarlet King and Cerulean Duke and Xanthic Marquis and Violet Archon. The third was the bullshit other-Ann was spewing. "Clear quartz is a pretty good energetic amplifier for any kind of energy work you might want to do," other-Ann was saying. "So if you're starting a basic setup, I think this pyramid would be a good fit as your centerpiece. The sacred geometry will capture the Solar Orgone and as a side benefit, you won't have to worry about the fire risk you'd have to deal with from a crystal ball. Only fifty bucks." The customer thanked her profusely. The two walked over to the cash register, as other-Ann gave suggestions on what else the customer could buy -- a small turquoise for water and wealth, a small chunk of amber for fire and love, and a Tarot deck to make sense of it all. All for a price, of course. Barlowe bit back a hiss. She could see two possibilities. Either other-Ann was a charlatan and a scammer -- or worse, she was a true believer. "Of course," other-Ann said with a smile. She rang the customer out, smiling all the while. When the customer left, other-Ann changed. She let out a slow, deep breath, and she sagged upon herself. Ann suddenly noticed her nails were bitten short -- not neatly clipped, bitten -- and she looked significantly more frazzled. It was almost like she just gained five years. "And that..." she muttered, "tips us over into the black for the month. Just barely." Barlowe tried not to roll her eyes; instead, she shook her head, and bumped a gaudy statue of a golden cat. Its arm didn't stop moving up and down. She just managed to catch it a second before it hit the ground. Other-Ann had still noticed. "Is someone there?" Barlowe held her breath. Other-Ann still seemed suspicious; her eyes narrowed, she stuck a cigarette in her mouth before, opened a cabinet under the counter, and pulled out a bundle of herbs and a wooden stick. She held the herbs aloft and lit both them and the cigarette in one smooth motion. Then she held the wooden stick up in a threatening manner. It was supposed to be a wand, Barlowe realized. And it was almost certainly worthless. This woman was of no danger. With one quick movement of her hand, Barlowe dropped her Aetheric cloaking. Fear and confusion flashed across other-Ann's face, along with what almost could've been awe. "What... are you?" Barlowe didn't say anything. Noticing Barlowe's alchemist equipment, Other-Ann's eyes widened even more. "Shapeshifter? Clone? Alien? Hallucination?" "Alternate universe," Barlowe said. She sighed. Other-Ann looked her up and down. "Wow. You look terrible." //And you look fat,// Barlowe thought, even though she knew it wasn't true. Other-Ann was maybe 5 kilograms heavier than Barlowe was, and maybe 10 kilograms above her goal weight. Other-Ann scratched her chin, and turned to face her desk. "That's fascinating, though. Do you want some tea? I have mint. Tell me how you got here." ------ Professor Madden leaned back in his chair. "That is fascinating. Truly fascinating. So you're telling me that the men in black hired you because you were good at math--" "[[[fresh-blood\|A probabilistic anomaly, actually]]]. Over the course of my professional career, any mathematical research topics I gravitate towards are slightly more likely to manifest anomalous properties," Robert said, as he peered through Professor Madden's office window. There was something nice about being so far up -- as opposed to his regular habitat in the underground complex of [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-120\|Site-120]]] -- though the buildings of the NYU campus were far too cramped to see anything of the Manhattan skyline. Crowds of college students drifted through the streets below. They looked like children. "Like... summoning Cthulthu using fractals," Professor Madden said. Madden nodded. "//The Laundry Files// by Charles Stross. But yeah, we have [[[SCP-1512\|a few of those]]]." "Can you control it?" Robert shook his head. "I'm not a parabiologist. Maybe one of them might have some idea of the mechanism of action, but... I just do my job, most of the time." Professor Madden raised an amused eyebrow. "And sometimes that job involves jumping headfirst into a broken multiversal portal." Robert didn't answer him. Professor Madden sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I'm jealous." Robert scoffed. "You started on tenure track at //25//. That's absurdly low." "Oh, I know how lucky I am. But you -- you get to live every kid's dream. Being a mad scientist. Like Rick from //Rick and Morty//." Professor Madden smiled. Robert narrowed his eyes. "Ending up stranded away from home in a hostile universe, more like." Professor Madden quieted down at that. "Sorry," he said. "Wasn't thinking." Robert chuckled. "Don't worry. I get it." There was an awkward silence, but Professor Madden seemed to get an idea. "Here's a list of all my open projects -- any of them look familiar? Might as well share ideas while you're here?" "Even knowing about the Global Occult Coalition?" "I'm a research mathematician. You really think they won't have any jobs for me?" Madden shrugged. "Heh. If you say so." Robert glanced at the page. "[[[SCP-5772\|Navier-Stokes]]] -- definitely worth looking through. This extra field of-- well, I think my home dimension calls them [[[the-set-of-all-numbers-which-might-be-bears\|'Mirage Numbers']]], but honestly [[[SCP-1313\|I'd steer clear of them.]]]" He scratched his chin, and corrected his glasses. "Let's see what else..." ------ "Well, I'm also a Discordian Pope," other-Ann said, twirling her dyed-black hair around her finger. "Everyone's a Discordian Pope." Barlowe sighed. She took a sip of her tea, which was surprisingly pleasant. It had a certain sting to it. She appreciated it. "It's a parody religion and that's the whole point." "Yeah, you got me beat," other-Ann said, throwing her hands up. "How am I supposed to compete with an actual Elder of a mystical order?" Ann shrugged. For a few moments, silence lay between them; she used it to scan her alternate twin's shop. Upon closer inspection, the dust-ridden corners became much more apparent. As did the fungus-covered ceiling. "How's business?" Other-Ann raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with anything?" "Is the money good?" "That's private." Ann sighed. "Look, are you happy?" "My life is good." She considered it for a moment, looking at Ann's cape and pendants. "But I would trade it in an instant for what you have." "You could still get here. Find the right places, talk to the right people, spend the next twelve years of your life studying Aetheric forces--" "Assuming I didn't fall down another wild goose chase like the one that led me here." Barlowe fell silent. She recognized the other woman's poised frustration, the true magnitude of her anger held in and filtered to be palatable for an audience. Her own interest in the occult had started in her teens, and if she'd followed a different path, and stayed on this side of the Veil and within the constraints of what she thought was possible, she could've easily ended up like this other version of herself. She suddenly became acutely aware of that fact. She did not like it. "I guess it's good you're here, then." She smiled a faint smile. "If your powers work in this universe, then that's something that I can know for sure is real." Barlowe marveled for a brief moment at just how optimistic this other version of her managed to be. "Why did you come to me?" Other-Ann said. "As much as I'd love to believe you came to enlighten me on the truth of the universe, you must've known I was living on wishful thinking. You could've gone with your colleague to see the math professor. Not some... half-baked fraud." Barlowe honestly didn't have an answer for her. For a moment, she stayed silent. ------ Alarms suddenly blared. Professor Madden looked at them, surprised; Robert Madden looked at them, concerned. They exchanged a quick look. "Huh. We weren't scheduled for a fire drill today," Professor Madden said. Robert was already standing up. "This is no fire drill. This is them. The Coalition. Are there any secret exits?" "We're in the middle of lower Manhattan," Professor Madden exclaimed. "No, there aren't any secret exits, there are streets on every side." "{{Get to the roof,}}" Ra said in Madden's ear. "{{I'm sending Barlowe to extract you.}}" They took the stairs, going in the opposite direction as everyone else. If it wasn't for the fact one of them was a Professor and the other a two-meter-robot, Madden was pretty sure they would have gotten buried under the mass of the student body. When they reached the top, Professor Madden suddenly looked at his alternate twin. "Do you want to make out?" he said, his face entirely serious. Robert blinked. "No, not really." Other-Robert nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, good. Me neither. It's weird. Still, in some books--" "Heinlein?" "Yeah." ------ "Do you want to make out?" Other-Ann said. Barlowe flushed. She was grateful to hear Ra buzz in her ear. "{{We need extraction. Rooftop, 251 Mercer Street. West by Northwest, approximately 11 kilometers.}}" She immediately stood up, and started to walk towards the exit doors. "And what do I do once I get you?" "Is that for me or...?" other-Ann asked. Barlowe raised up a finger to hush her, and touched her ear for emphasis. Other-Ann got it. "{{Did a self-proclaimed witch really have no connections to the Serpent's Hand?}}" Ra sighed. "{{We will have to improvise, then.}}" "Look," other-Ann said, "forget I mentioned it--" "I didn't say no, but I have to run," Barlowe said, and opened the door leading outside. "The men in black are coming for my colleague. They have guns. We can discuss whatever the fuck you just suggested once I make it back alive." Other-Ann just shrugged, but followed the alchemist. With one quick movement of Ann's hand, the ground suddenly hiccupped beneath them, flinging through the air, in great leaps and bounds. Other-Ann screamed; the sound quickly turned from surprised shock to triumphant satisfaction, as the wind started to blow in their hair. The asphalt and concrete of New York City reached out and became Ann's, the Aethers present inside them willing nothing but to obey the order of their new mistress. It bent to soften their landings, sending them skyward once more. In a matter of seconds, they jumped from the depths of Brooklyn to the East River, and from there she flung them towards Manhattan. At the peak of her arc, halfway towards the island, she felt the Aethers weaken. The Aethers of Manhattan were muted, ever so slightly beyond her reach. The earth merely flinched, instead of bending. She furrowed her brows. Swiftly, she drew upon the Aethers of water and air, wrapping herself in a cocoon of miniature storm. She couldn't hope to change their trajectory to try to turn back to Brooklyn or land more softly. All she could do was wrap the air and water around herself as tightly as possible to break her inevitable fall. They crashed on the ground, not hard enough to break any bones, but more than enough to knock the wind -- both metaphorical and literal -- off her. Other-Ann similarly struggled to catch a breath. The air and water Aethers quickly dissipated, unbound to her will. Manhattan was Aetherically dead. This was not normal. She furrowed her brows even further. There was a sudden screech of tires on concrete. As black vans rushed to surround them, Ann looked north and saw the imposing hulk of the United Nations headquarters, just 40 streets away. She sighed. ------ "{{Bad news,}}" Ra said. "{{Barlowe's been intercepted.}}" The students had been evacuated; they were both standing on the roof of the building, now. The entirety of the neighborhood around them was more than visible. They immediately became acutely aware that West 4th and Mercer Street were filled with black vans, the skies awash with similarly-colored helicopters. A spark of panic in his eyes, Madden looked all around them, trying to see any possible exit that wasn't just the stairs again. He found none. He closed his eyes, and exhaled. "Well, fuck." ------ The Coalition kept them in separate cells. Robert had some idea of how this would go. He wasn't personally involved in most interrogations -- Site-120 was far from a facility that really dealt with such things -- but from what he's been told by his colleagues from -19, the Foundation often isolated and starved its captives until being offered a glass of water was enough to make them reveal anything. Worst yet, similar rumors painted the Coalition as even a bigger bitch. Neither of those facts really put confidence into him, but their current situation did mean that they weren't going to get killed, he supposed. Yet, anyhow. He looked around the room. It was very little more than a two-by-two-by-two concrete box. They didn't even provide him with a bed. Or a toilet. He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to having to wait it out. Turns out, he didn't have to. A sudden buzz came to his ears. "{{Madden. Are you conscious?}}" Madden stood up. "Ra? Is that you?" "{{Affirmative. Barlowe is unharmed, but she is chained with beryllium bronze handcuffs that restrict her powers.}}" He was pacing around the cell, now; he knew it was an exercise bordering on futility, but an exercise nonetheless. "How come you can reach us both?" "{{The Silicon Nornir are under high demand -- something about a Maxwellist insurgence in Eurtec -- and our presence has been downgraded to a lower priority.}}" Madden resisted the urge to treat it like an insult. "{{They didn't scan you for implants, and they assumed I was constrained to this robot body. I am not. I have partially integrated into their internet.}}" She paused. He stopped, and started tapping the floor with his foot impatiently. Ra continued, "{{My understanding is that they have captured both of your alternate universe counterparts. How would you like to proceed?}}" He scratched his chin. "We need to free the other me," Robert said. "I talked about math with him. There are good odds he knows too much, at least by Coalition standards." "{{And the other Ann Barlowe?}}" "We can leave her," Barlowe said, her voice coming through to Madden's ears by a bridge in Ra's own audio. "She's harmless. And a fraud. The Coalition will debrief her and let her go. Maybe put her through amnestics." {{"If they don't, do you want that risk on your conscience?}}" Ann sighed. "She's a civilian with delusions of being a real witch. Yes, I do want to risk it. Now bust us out, Ra." Another pause, this time one that somehow felt more thoughtful. "{{I cannot.}}" "What? Why not?" Ann's voice hardened. "{{My body is contained within a Faraday Cage and I have no current awareness of its actions nor any ability to direct its functions. Like I said, best I can do is access the internet.}}" Ann threw her hands in the air. Madden could tell, because he felt them reach the concrete walls of her own cell. "So hack the locks!" "{{All of the locks are mechanical.}}" "What kind of Coalition facility is using mechanical locks?!" "{{I do not know.}}" "So we're still fucked, then!" She scoffed. "Thanks. Just great, Ra." "Look, if I--" Robert started. "Wait. I hear something," Barlowe said. "I think they're coming for me." ------ There was a sudden crash near the doors of Ann's cell, and they started to slowly turn open, blasting the previously-dark room with blinding light. Ann backed off, putting her hands up; they might've been immobilized and magically grounded, but with her new irrilite arm and years of training, she could still land one hell of a punch. Still, the light made her instinctively narrow her eyes. When she opened them again a second later, she could make out a tall figure standing in front of her. She blinked twice. It was other-Ann. Ann shook her head in shock. "How did you get out?" Other-Ann held up a hairpin. "Taught myself how to pick locks when I was 17." "Oh." Barlowe had been the same age when she'd first tested her copy of the Lesser Key of Solomon. Still, she didn't complain; especially considering the fact that other-Ann was now reaching for Ann's own manacles. With one quick movement, they popped open and fell to the ground. Ann was pretty sure that bang that resulted from the beryllium bronze meeting the concrete could be heard on the other side of the Solar System. "I think they caught a few other guys," other-Ann said, already turning towards the doors to the cell. "Any idea if they're the ones you want?" Barlowe just shot her a grin. "High time to find out." ----- With Ra's spatial awareness of the building and her communication module, Ann's Aetheric veil -- now once again drawn over the two women -- and other-Ann's lockpicking skills, finding Ra's body and the two Maddens was a piece of cake. "So," Robert said, nervously looking around the corridor they now stood in. They weren't yet noticed, but with what he knew of the Coalition, they weren't a stranger to masking magic. "What do we do now?" "{{Well,}}" Ra said, now once again rejoicing in having a body. "{{I believe the best course of action would be--}}" "Wait." Professor Madden raised his finger. "I recognize this place. This is Brookhaven National Laboratory. We're pretty far from the city. Deep into Long Island." Robert raised an eyebrow. "Why would they bring us to the other side of Long Island? The UN is--" "Do you really think they'd use the United Nations as a prison block?" Ann said. "They do nuclear energy research here," said Professor Madden. "High energy particle collisions. Some pretty powerful cyclotrons." "{{The last thing you want is to move to untested systems when you're dealing with nuclear warheads,}}" Ra continued his thought. "{{The mechanical locks then make sense.}}" "So how fucked are we?" other-Ann said. "Are we white-collar-slap-on-the-wrist criminals or war criminals?" "We don't know," said Robert. "I don't even know how much I know about the Coalition from my home universe. I would've expected them to liquidate us by now. If they still haven't, they have a reason to keep us around." "That's a euphemism for 'kill', I think," Professor Madden helpfully provided, flashing a quick smile. It fell down a moment later, when he truly realized the ramification of what he'd just said. Other-Ann sighed. "Cheerful. How do we get out of here?" "Well--" Barlowe started. Suddenly, to the sound of sirens, red light came to life all around them. The group all exchanged a worried look, Ra's head monitor displaying a concerned 8bit face. Before any of them could move, from the distance came the muffled sound of orders being thrown around and heavy boots meeting the concrete floor below them. All five swallowed -- Ra obviously notwithstanding -- and glanced at each other once more. Without hesitation, they all nodded, and started running with all the strength still remaining in their legs. "{{There is an unused storage space, unmarked on the maps, fifteen meters right and then two meters left,}}" Ra whispered into their earpieces. "{{If we just--}}" Ann shook her head. "Just take us there!" The android nodded, and took the lead. And so they ran and ran, until -- with Ra's help -- they reached a single unremarkable door. It had no room number or placard to indicate what was inside. Ra eyed it quickly and nodded once. With one movement of her metallic body, she opened the door, and entered through into the buzzing darkness inside. The group quickly followed. When they were all inside Ann snapped her fingers, and a flame came to life atop her fingertip. It soon rose to be a large flame, casting a brilliant light before the five; their shadows were larger than each of them. They all suddenly blinked -- Ra helpfully refreshing her feed to see if what she was seeing was in fact reality -- when they realized what was actually before them. "Oh," Robert said staring at the hexagonal frame that stood not two meters in front of them. Its inside was buzzing with life, as if already having anticipated the interdimensional travelers. "That's terribly convenient," Professor Madden said, crossing his arms. He turned to face Ra. "You sure this the place?" "{{Internal Coalition data calls this a storage room for retired projects. By all means, their version of 6172 should not be working.}}" "Well." Other-Ann shrugged. "Maybe it's destiny. Or something." "Oh for--" Barlowe tried to say, but was rudely interrupted by the doors breaking down. What followed behind them was a toe-to-head armed squad of Coalition agents, their guns pointed at all five. Worst yet, the first agent grabbed the nearest-standing Professor Madden, the gesture very clearly indicating he's taken him hostage. That stopped Ann's hand from reaching further up, the Aetheric forces already gathering around her fingertips. She groaned. "Everybody freeze!" the agent said. "By section B/29-A of the Global Paralaw Charter, you are all under arrest for crimes against reality! Surrender now, and we won't hurt y--" Before he could finish, Ann just shrugged and snapped the fingers of her metallic arm. In an instant, the concrete before them rose up and grabbed all of the Coalition agents; now free, Professor Madden fell to the floor. The other Madden meanwhile -- alongside Ra -- was already on his way towards the Portal. He looked concerned at Ann, then turned his sight towards his alternate twin. The agents around them were already starting to get out of their concrete prisons. The professor just shook his head. "Go. I'll live." "No," said Robert; it was very clear he could not decide whether he should take a step forward or backward. "I... I can't leave you here!" "Don't worry," said Professor Madden, flashing him a grin. "I will get a job with the shadow government. It worked for you." Madden turned to face Ann, as if looking for support. She remained still, as did her alternate self, who looked as if she had already accepted her fate. "I can't just ditch him like this!" He said. "He's a civilian. They will skin him alive for fighting the shadow government. Can't we take them with us?" Ra shook her head. "{{They are of this world. Their crossing over would destabilize the portal.}}" "Then... Then I will stay and fight, goddamnit!" the lanky scientist shouted, planting his leg firmly on the ground. Ann just sighed. "I will--" Before he could finish, two firm arms -- one made of irrilite, the other of steel -- grabbed him by his shoulders, and thew him right into the portal, leaving Professor Madden and other-Ann to their own fates. ---- In a different world and in a different time, baseline reality James Micheals followed closely behind Ethan MacCarthy Jr. "You sure you got their cross-dimensional signatures?" the latter said, tapping a few things on his tablet. He did not slow his pace. "Asheworth said that the rescue ritual absolutely requires that you--" "Y-Yes, yes. I do. A-All of my personnel give them up the first day of work," the ontokineticist replied. "Fantastic," the other man said. "Then we are good to go." For a few more moments, the two walked the immaculately white halls of Site-120 until they reached a door, the letters upon it reading 'Ritual Site 120/B/16'. Ethan took its handle and pushed it down firmly, inviting his friend to enter through. He complied, and Ethan soon joined him. Inside the relatively small room there stood twenty hooded figures. They were gathered around a ritual circle engraved upon the ground, candles burning with purple flames located at each of its ends. All of the people were silent, gathering focus for the large rite that was about to follow. They did not react to the two men entering. Nonetheless, when the two saw them, both of the scientists smiled. "So," Ethan said, clasping his hands together. He first looked at the figures gathered before him, already awaiting his orders, and then at his collegue, excited anticipation dancing in his eyes. "Shall we begin?" @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=flase \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/stranded-lullaby \| previous-title=Stranded Lullaby \| next-url=/time-machine-en \| next-title=Time Machine \| hub-url=/chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub \| hub-title=Chronicles of the Irreal ]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Limeyy, LORDXVNV, and Ralliston]] ===== > Filename: skyline.jpg > Name: Manhattan Bridge NYC 2014.JPG > Author: Lesekreis > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Manhattan_Bridge_NYC_2014.JPG Wikimedia Commons] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-08-03T13:30:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "adventure", "alchemy-department", "from-120s-archives", "global-occult-coalition", "tale", "unfounded" ]	The Mind Electric - SCP Foundation	41	[ "limey-s-citrus-corner", "lordxvnv", "ralliston-s-authorpage", "scp-6172", "stranded-lullaby", "pickman-blank-proposal", "fresh-blood", "secure-facility-dossier-site-120", "scp-1512", "scp-5772", "the-set-of-all-numbers-which-might-be-bears", "scp-1313", "chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub", "time-machine-en", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unfounded-hub", "the-alchemy-department-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "goc-hub-page", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub", "and-every-time-we-meet-again-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-mind-electric/skyline.png" ]	1449260201	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-mind-electric
the-mundanity-of-you-and-him	<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="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>The mundanity of you and him</strong><br/> <strong>Written by:</strong> FlyPurgatorio \| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flys-purgatory">Authorpage</a></p> <p>This article contains references to homophobia, the AIDS epidemic (with visuals behind the links) and some mild sexual themes, so 18+.</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> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc0"><span>February, 1993</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>You are sitting at the kitchen table of the Van den Bosch residence, surrounded by maths textbooks and economics homework. It’s quiet. Serene. The only sounds are the rustling of pages as they turn, buttons pressed on a calculator, pencils scratching answers in notebooks - an accompaniment to your teenage life. Trivial and small.</p> <p>It could have been any other Tuesday afternoon. The house is deserted, apart from you and Daniël – and Boef, of course. The Bernese Mountain dog had planted himself on his pillow and complained in lazy barks when birds came too close to the window, but refused to get up and do something about it.</p> <p>In about two hours, his parents would come home from work, and his older sisters would return from field hockey training. You and Daniël would escape the sudden shift in activity by taking Boef on a walk through the streets of Utrecht. Boef would, characteristically, complain. Complain about the length of the walk, about cats daring to share the same cobblestoned streets, about moving too slow or too fast in those signature low grunts that could barely be called barks. The two of you would simply walk alongside him, wandering until dinner time, chatting and philosophising, building dreams of days yet to come.</p> <p>Your dreams were as different as your personalities. He wanted to travel. Experience the world in all its wonder, see the beauty in every fragment and every moment. Observe and feast. You wanted to understand the fine print of it all. Uncover the chaos caught in rules and regulations, so you could change it. Learn and reshape.</p> <p>It made sense. Daniël had been allowed to believe in wonder a little longer than you. He never had to skip school trips that didn’t fit in the household budget, or realise that ‘being nice’ had nothing to do with the presents you’d get in December. Not that it mattered, of course. Sjaan, your mother, loved you as much and more than any father, grandparent, or sibling could, combined. She was your best friend and supporter, and together you made it work.</p> <p>So when Daniël laughs and jokes how one day you’ll find the <em>right</em> obscure little regulation to save the world, you smile and nod. Some afternoons you’d wish you could see the world like he did, see the wonder and excitement. And other afternoons you’d curse yourself for breaking the one rule you promised yourself you’d keep: don’t fall for a straight boy.</p> <p>And the next Tuesday afternoon, you’d do it all over again.</p> <p>Daniël clears his throat, and you’re back at the kitchen table.</p> <p>"Can I ask you a weird question?"</p> <p>"Sure," you say.</p> <p>The two of you are like day and night. He’s charming, you’re snarky. He’s tall and slender, you’re rather short and stocky. He’s the kid everyone gravitates to, the life of the party. You’re the kid in the corner that everyone passes by.</p> <p>"How did you know you were gay?"</p> <p>He was the only guy in your class who didn’t shun you when you were outed at fourteen. Height of the AIDS epidemic. They called you slurs, called you contagious, said you’d die before graduation. Kids are cruel.</p> <p>He and the girls hurled back every insult thrown at you. They cycled home with you for months to make sure you were safe. You learned to fight back, mostly with words, and with fists if you had to.</p> <p>"How did you know you liked Annabel?" you say. "Or Laura? Or –"</p> <p>"Yeah yeah, point taken." He flashes that smile that had enchanted so many girls (and at least one guy). "So you just <em>knew</em>. Were there really never any girls you liked?"</p> <p>You lean back, carefully thinking it over while you draw the frown on your face that would imprint itself in wrinkles in the coming decades.</p> <p>"Dolly Parton," you finally say. "But that turned out to be awe of her talent and style. Shame I can’t pull off that look."</p> <p>Daniël chuckles. <em>God</em>, you think, <em>it’s not fair</em>.</p> <p>"And you? Ever considered going both ways?" you ask teasingly. It’s not like you were holding out hope, so better to just rip the bandaid straight off.</p> <p>"Both ways?" Daniël echoes. There is something in his tone that you think you recognise: too far. You took it too far. (Don’t you insinuate, don’t you dare) Retreat.</p> <p>"Yeah, like Bowie," you say, suddenly captivated by the contents of your economics textbook, avoiding his gaze. "Must be pretty cool. He gets all the options in the world."</p> <p>"I guess it is," you hear him say. "Never considered that." There is something in his voice that sounds like music to you. Soft and lively. Like the opening notes to Vivaldi's seasons, played on cello. You know that if you look at him right now, you'd be sure to melt away.</p> <p>So you don’t. Instead, you look at your textbook, your notes, your pencil scratching down numbers deeper and deeper into the paper until the tip breaks. So much for ripping off the bandaid. Now you know, and you still feel that knot twisting in your chest.</p> <p>It was silent for an eternity, or maybe just a minute; what’s the difference for a teenager with a heart that aches?</p> <p>"Could you explain integrals again?" Daniël says, bringing you back to this moment. "I thought I finally got it, but –"</p> <p>You drop your pencil, gladly taking this chance to move forward. Glad it’ll be the same, still. Nothing lost. Nothing wasted.</p> <p>You push your chair closer to his, mumbling a <em>what would you do without me</em>, as you lean in to read his notes.</p> <p>"So, for this function –" Your voice falters. Your heart skips a beat as it shrinks, only to expand in your chest with a wave of dazzling heat as you realise he placed his hand on your knee. His thumb draws small circles on the fabric of your jeans.</p> <p><em>Play it cool, Gijs, for fucks sake.</em> Not that you’d know how to do that. This isn’t exactly your field of expertise. None of it is. Did he hear your surprised gasp for air? He must’ve. <em>Do something, at least!</em></p> <p>You lean in closer, placing your arm on the backrest of his chair - a move you've seen played out in Sjaan's favourite films. The tips of your fingers brush over his shoulder as you go over his proof.</p> <p>"You solved that correctly, actually," you say in a voice shakier than you’d wanted. So much for cool and aloof.</p> <p>"Yeah, I know," he says. "I figured it out."</p> <p>God, he’s so close. You feel his breath on your skin, could count every freckle, every lock of blond hair dancing around his face.</p> <p>For a moment, there is nothing but quiet and the fast beating of your heart. Then, you feel his lips on yours, and the world falls into place.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc1"><span>August, 1996</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>The world has been a <a href="https://publichistory.humanities.uva.nl/queercollection/berts-logbook-informal-care-during-the-80s-and-90s-aids-epidemic-in-amsterdam/">dark, dark place</a> as of late. At times, the air in Amsterdam felt thick and dense, as if it planned to crash down on you and those around you. For some, <a href="https://archief.amsterdam/beeldbank/?mode=gallery&view=horizontal&q=han%20singels%20aids&rows=25&page=3">it already had</a>.</p> <p>You’ve always been the stubborn kind. You wanted to be here. Felt you had to. This was the place and time to do your part. Despite it all.</p> <p>Sjaan called you almost every night. Daniël wrote cards and letters, chronicling his adventures overseas in the Land of Opportunity. You know he’d always wanted to study in America, and you would never take that away from him. It’s just –</p> <p>You miss the light he brings.</p> <p>It was a warm Thursday night when your wish was granted, and he walked back into your life.</p> <p>You were working the bar at Café De Tandarts when a tall, handsome young man came in. His hair had been bleached even blonder by the Californian sun, his nose covered in more freckles than you remembered. But his smile was the same, charming and bright.</p> <p>"Howdy stranger," you say in your thickest, fakest Southern American accent. "What brings ye here."</p> <p>"Heard you served some great spirits," he says, and he winks.</p> <p>"’Fraid you were lied to, old friend," you say. "Only Heineken on tap. But you know what they say about beer: even the worst pearpiss can be satisfying if tapped by skilled hands."</p> <p>You grab a clean glass, roll it over your arm like a bartender’s coin trick, and start to tap.</p> <p>"Oh, I certainly trust the skill of your hands."</p> <p>You can’t keep the awkward giggle in, and then stumble when you turn to hide your blush. The beer you tap (and promptly throw out) consists of more foam than liquid.</p> <p>He sits at the bar for the rest of your shift, striking up conversation with total strangers, or chatting with old friends as if not a day had passed since they last spoke. Every time you two lock eyes you feel this pull; a string around your heart or a magnet finding its pole.</p> <p>When it’s finally time to clock out, you step into a dreamlike haze. The canals of Amsterdam greet you with a new passion, the uneven cobblestones cheer with every step the two of you take. The sky is painted in purples and blues only seen on the pages of a fairy tale book. A little place of wonder, of beauty, the way only he could make it.</p> <p>You don’t hold hands – you don’t know who might see, might have an opinion to express. You don’t have to. The pull between you surpasses anything physics could define, built from belonging and willpower alone. For the first time in what seems like forever, you allow yourself to dream again. Two beating hearts and a future they could build.</p> <p>Only when you arrive at your crummy student apartment and you’re placing the two wine glasses you own (or: ‘borrowed’ from your job) on the kitchen table that doubles as your desk, you break the spell.</p> <p>"I thought your flight was tomorrow?"</p> <p>"Took an earlier one," he says, opening the bottle of wine he brought. "Barely slept, but I’ll catch up on sleep one day."</p> <p>The time measured in one glass of wine was all it took; the catching up binding you to another form, with your shirt on the floor and his fingers unbuckling your belt. That night, when you felt his body move with yours in the throws of a mundane ritual, his breath caressing the skin of your neck, his tongue outlining every curve and every corner of your existence, until you are whole and completed and more, so much more than that.</p> <p>That’s where you find it: a belief in wonder.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc2"><span>April, 2001</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>You never thought much about marriage. Sure, you saw yourself settling down someday (with him, certainly). Maybe legally register as partners, or become that couple of gentlemen friends that throw the best dinner parties. Marriage, though, <em>marriage</em> was never really on the table. At least, not for you.</p> <p>Daniël could’ve gotten married if he’d wanted. If he had picked someone else, someone <em>not like you</em> to spend his life with. You knew he’d always wanted a big celebration. In the deepest, darkest corners of your anxious heart, you wondered whether it was fair you took that away from him. <em>You</em> were the one without a choice. <em>You</em> were the one kept out of that part of civilian life. If he had found a woman, he could have walked down the aisle. House with a garden and a white picket fence. A dog, three kids, ski trips and field hockey training. He would have thrived in that kind of life.</p> <p>You weren’t made for mundanity, even if you craved it.</p> <p>You also know it isn't fair to think that way. He chose you as much as you chose him. Your life together was one of a combined making. Just because he could’ve hidden, doesn’t mean he would have been accepted. Being erased is not approval.</p> <p>But those small pangs of guilt you feel, they are only human. Who wouldn’t wish to spare their loved ones the hurt of exclusion? The uncomfortable jokes from colleagues or dismissive looks from acquaintances? Who wouldn’t wish they could hug or hold hands or dine or travel or simply even exist without a second thought, without a care in the world who saw.</p> <p>It’s the fear you made his life harder than it had to be. And that your presence in it wasn't enough to make up for it.</p> <p>That is the essence of partnership, is it not? Love can only carry you so far. Partnership, marriage, companionship of any form; it’s the choice to carry the burden together.</p> <p>You discussed registering as partners when you moved in together. You could throw your own party, create your own vows and symbols. But that specific ritual, that symbol that held special meaning to him – that would always be out of reach.</p> <p>Until the new millennium began, and with it a new era. In those final months of 2000, Daniël had followed the news religiously. Read every piece of press coverage, devoured every debate. There hadn’t been a moment in his life he had been as interested in politics as those days, until the law was passed definitively. From April 2001 onwards, the Dutch government allowed legal marriage between same-sex couples. The first in the world.</p> <p>I won’t tell them how he proposed to you. I know you think back to it often, when you wonder how you’d get through the day. Your own little personal mantra, a symbol that guides you through the dark.</p> <p>That moment is only meant for you and him.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc3"><span>March, 2002</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc4"><span>Invite</span></h3> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Open invite</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Close</a></div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Wedding%20invite.jpg" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him/Wedding%20invite.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>to the wedding of Gijsbert Johannes van Oosterbeek & Daniël van den Bosch</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc5"><span>September, 2006</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>You’re sitting at the kitchen table, head in your hands. Uncharacteristically, your briefcase and coat have been dropped in the hallway, discarded. No need for procedures, for putting stuff in the right place, for neatness. For appearances. What does it matter anyway?</p> <p>The front door opens, and the smell of fresh fish fills the room.</p> <p>"You got herring?!" You look up at Daniël, who is putting the white plastic bag in the fridge.</p> <p>"And wine. It seemed like a ‘comfort food’ kind of day," he says. "What happened? They didn’t like your proposal?"</p> <p>You shake your head.</p> <p>"It’s over."</p> <p>"It can’t be that bad," he says. "The Christian parties can’t bury their heads in the sand forever, you’ve got enough –"</p> <p>"It’s over," you say, definitively. "The policy proposal, and my political career. It’s dead."</p> <p>"How?" He finally sits down next to you, taking your hand in his.</p> <p>"I kicked against the wrong institution," is all you say.</p> <p>"Just like that?"</p> <p>You nod slowly, then mimic an explosion. The metal of his wedding ring slips over your skin as he massages your hand.</p> <p>It's quiet for a moment. You’re still processing what you saw today. That life-shattering, world-bending, forever-changing revelation that makes so, so much more sense. A slumbering mass of the unimaginable that changes everything you’ve ever known. How much more was there, hidden under the everyday pragmatism of the Dutch? Under the ordinary events of the ever-spinning world?</p> <p>You carefully say: "There is something else. I got a job offer."</p> <p>"That’s good, isn’t it?"</p> <p>"It’s not the kind of job I can put on a resume."</p> <p>Daniël pauses. A boyish smile forms on his face.</p> <p>"You’re going to be a spy?"</p> <p>"Stop it, this is serious," you say, but the curl of a grin on your face betrays you.</p> <p>"If I’d known that, I’d have stopped to get olives and gin."</p> <p>"It’s not like that." You pull your hand back and sit upright. "But it is secretive. Background stuff."</p> <p>"So do your pro and con thing," he says. "What are the pros?"</p> <p>"It’s a fascinating subject that impacts our day-to-day so much more than I ever considered. Something new and exciting I can really sink my teeth in," you say. "The department they’d want me for is relatively new, so I can build it up the way I see fit. It’s important work. Essential. I can really make a difference here."</p> <p>"So what’s stopping you?"</p> <p>"It’s dangerous."</p> <p>"Remind me what happened to the last controversial, openly gay politician."</p> <p>"That’s low. What happened to Fortuyn is awful, but it was an exception, not a rule. And his sexuality had nothing to do with it," you say. "Also, I resent the suggestion we’re politically alike in any way! I am not a right-wing populist! I’m a left-from-centre progressive," you add, gesturing to underpin every word.</p> <p>"I know, I know." He takes your hand again. "I was just saying that every job has its dangers. What other downsides are there?"</p> <p>"I wouldn’t be able to talk about my work with you."</p> <p>"You barely do that now," he says.</p> <p>"You’re not into politics!" you say defensively.</p> <p>"And you’re not into the intricacies of marketing, but I can still talk about my day with you," he says. "As long as you can talk to me after a bad day, without the details, it should be fine, right?"</p> <p>"It’s not the kind of world you can get out of, once you get into it," you say.</p> <p>"Gijssie, sweetie, I’m going to be honest with you." He pulls you closer. "You’re a creature of habit. You haven’t changed your aftershave since secondary school graduation. The only times you take a step outside Utrecht is when I force you to."</p> <p>"So you think I should take the offer?"</p> <p>"I think you’ve already made your choice, and you’re just asking me for permission to make a big life change," he says. "Because it’s too scary to make that choice on your own."</p> <p>The best and worst moments are the ones when you realise that he knows you better than you know yourself. Worst, because he knows every flaw and every insecurity. Best, because he always has, and he still loves you.</p> <p>"Maybe you can grow a beard when you’re out of the public eye. Fits with anonymity, and I bet it looks dashing on you." He leans in, planting kiss after kiss on your neck. "Especially when they give you a licence to kill."</p> <p>"Stop fetishizing my career!" you say, but you’re laughing.</p> <p>"I’m just saying, I’d make one hell of a Bond girl."</p> <p>"You would, yeah. You got the legs for it," you say, your fingers sliding over his trousers.</p> <p>"If you don’t want to be Bond, I can think of something else."</p> <p>"It’s not spy stuff," you say again. "More like, grey area stuff. Working within the lines of the law in new areas, where the law needs to be defined. Paperwork and bureaucratic procedures. Research."</p> <p>"Keep talking dirty to me, Mr. Smiley."</p> <p>"Smiley?! That’s the only other spy you can think of?" you say. "Do I look like Alec Guinness?"</p> <p>"It’s not appearance that does it," he says as he unbuttons your waistcoat. "He has a certain gravitas. Quiet, proper, and dangerous."</p> <p>"That doesn’t sound like me."</p> <p>"Oh, don’t tell me you don’t have that side. I can see it," he continues. "The man in the crowd, slipping in and out of vision. Pulling the strings from the dark, fighting the enemy from inside a filing cabinet."</p> <p>"You’re really selling it to me, marketing man."</p> <p>"We all have our talents," he says before kissing you, and you have to agree.</p> <p>So you took the chance, and took the change. Entered a world of wonders small and large, unpleasant and dangerous. You became the man in the shadows, fighting an unknowable enemy armed with wits and a briefcase full of procedures and regulations. It was a life that fitted you like a glove, one you thrived at, even though you’d hardly admit it. Humility is a virtue in this line of work, isn’t it?</p> <p>And on the days that glove chafed and the shadows were so thick you could hardly breathe, you got through it because of that man waiting for you at home, who was convinced the world was safer with you in it. And you knew that at the end of the day, you didn’t have to do it alone.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc6"><span>Today</span></h3> </div> <hr/> <p>It’s a morning like most others. You’ve just turned the coffee machine on and are staring out of the kitchen window. Dawn had only started to outline the world and your front garden, which needed a trim and some weeding - put it on the chore board for this weekend.</p> <p>Daniël had gotten up at six, as he always does, and slipped out of bed to his home office. He’d answer emails or prepare slide decks for presentations about stuff that, in the great scheme of things, didn’t matter. Then he’d go for his morning run, and by the time he gets back you’d woken up.</p> <p>As you are placing breakfast – slices of cheese on white bread and coffee for you, a protein smoothie and banana peanut sandwiches for him – on the kitchen table, you stare for a moment. Caught in the mundanity of it all. The smallness. Just another morning, like every other.</p> <p>For a moment you can picture the two of you, sitting around a kitchen table covered in homework material. You remember giddily scrolling through matching wedding tuxedos, laughing at the tacky designs. You recall pouring over your finances when Daniël lost his job during the recession, and you had to figure out how to make it work on your salary alone. You can still feel the soft reassurance of his touch when you addressed the invites to Sjaan’s funeral.</p> <p>All those moments, little fragments of what made your life what it is today. A place where you share your meals and moments, where you return after fighting, celebrating, making love. Every day again and again.</p> <p>The spell is broken when you hear Daniël coming down the stairs.</p> <p>"You won’t believe what happened," he says, still buttoning up his shirt. "They promoted Jan-Pieter to Head of Social Media and Branding."</p> <p>"Is he the one that complained about his assistant’s pronouns in her email signature, or the one that preached about playing squash like he just got baptised?"</p> <p>"The one who went on that juice cleanse that made him smell like fermented garlic and called it <em>bio-hacking</em>." He sits down and takes a sip from his smoothie. "You know what his first act of business was? Proposing to rename the team to Social Branding and Platforms. Since that ‘captured the essence of our work better’."</p> <p>"Ridiculous," you say, guessing from context. "How do you survive these people?"</p> <p>"Same way you survive all that paperwork," he says. "I soldier on."</p> <p>You roll your wedding ring around your finger.</p> <p>"What’s your day going to look like?" he says. "How’s Smiley’s business?"</p> <p>"Under control," you say, with a small smile. And that is all he needs to know.</p> <p>You live in a world of abnormality. Of wonders and miracles, monsters and horrors. But you keep them outside of your door. Here, at the kitchen table, the world is mundane. The world is small. And it matters, to the two of you.</p> <p>So you’ll continue "Smiley’s business" every day, keeping the world going. And every night, you return to a table set with dinner cooked by your husband. And you remember why you’ll do it all over again tomorrow.</p> <p>For those moments around that kitchen table, and the small, mundane wonder of him and you.</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="/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him">The mundanity of you and him</a>" by FlyPurgatorio, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him">https://scpwiki.com/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him</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> Wedding Invite-a<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flypurgatorio" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8497838); return false;"><img alt="FlyPurgatorio" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8497838&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052700" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8497838)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/flypurgatorio" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8497838); return false;">FlyPurgatorio</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> tba<br/> <strong>Derivative of:</strong> Kikvorschkil, Biesbosch, Dordrecht (32943855446).jpg; Euphoria Script.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Kikvorschkil, Biesbosch, Dordrecht (32943855446).jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Paul van de Velde from Netherlands<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kikvorschkil,_Biesbosch,_Dordrecht_(32943855446).jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kikvorschkil,_Biesbosch,_Dordrecht_(32943855446).jpg</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Euphoria Script<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Sabrina Mariela Lopez<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Open Font License<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Euphoria+Script?category=Handwriting">https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Euphoria+Script?category=Handwriting</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:extra-black-highlighter-theme">:scp-wiki:theme:extra-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/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-gm-alt= --]]] [[module CSS]] :root { --header-gradient-color-bottom: 80, 73, 204; --hover-link-color: 7, 141, 112; --visited-link-color: 7, 141, 112; --dark-accent: 7, 141, 112; --pale-accent: 38, 206, 170; --alt-accent: 123, 173, 226;} [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] The mundanity of you and him Written by: FlyPurgatorio \| [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flys-purgatory Authorpage] This article contains references to homophobia, the AIDS epidemic (with visuals behind the links) and some mild sexual themes, so 18+. [[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>]] ----- [[=]] +++ February, 1993 [[/=]] ----- You are sitting at the kitchen table of the Van den Bosch residence, surrounded by maths textbooks and economics homework. It’s quiet. Serene. The only sounds are the rustling of pages as they turn, buttons pressed on a calculator, pencils scratching answers in notebooks - an accompaniment to your teenage life. Trivial and small. It could have been any other Tuesday afternoon. The house is deserted, apart from you and Daniël – and Boef, of course. The Bernese Mountain dog had planted himself on his pillow and complained in lazy barks when birds came too close to the window, but refused to get up and do something about it. In about two hours, his parents would come home from work, and his older sisters would return from field hockey training. You and Daniël would escape the sudden shift in activity by taking Boef on a walk through the streets of Utrecht. Boef would, characteristically, complain. Complain about the length of the walk, about cats daring to share the same cobblestoned streets, about moving too slow or too fast in those signature low grunts that could barely be called barks. The two of you would simply walk alongside him, wandering until dinner time, chatting and philosophising, building dreams of days yet to come. Your dreams were as different as your personalities. He wanted to travel. Experience the world in all its wonder, see the beauty in every fragment and every moment. Observe and feast. You wanted to understand the fine print of it all. Uncover the chaos caught in rules and regulations, so you could change it. Learn and reshape. It made sense. Daniël had been allowed to believe in wonder a little longer than you. He never had to skip school trips that didn’t fit in the household budget, or realise that ‘being nice’ had nothing to do with the presents you’d get in December. Not that it mattered, of course. Sjaan, your mother, loved you as much and more than any father, grandparent, or sibling could, combined. She was your best friend and supporter, and together you made it work. So when Daniël laughs and jokes how one day you’ll find the //right// obscure little regulation to save the world, you smile and nod. Some afternoons you’d wish you could see the world like he did, see the wonder and excitement. And other afternoons you’d curse yourself for breaking the one rule you promised yourself you’d keep: don’t fall for a straight boy. And the next Tuesday afternoon, you’d do it all over again. Daniël clears his throat, and you’re back at the kitchen table. "Can I ask you a weird question?" "Sure," you say. The two of you are like day and night. He’s charming, you’re snarky. He’s tall and slender, you’re rather short and stocky. He’s the kid everyone gravitates to, the life of the party. You’re the kid in the corner that everyone passes by. "How did you know you were gay?" He was the only guy in your class who didn’t shun you when you were outed at fourteen. Height of the AIDS epidemic. They called you slurs, called you contagious, said you’d die before graduation. Kids are cruel. He and the girls hurled back every insult thrown at you. They cycled home with you for months to make sure you were safe. You learned to fight back, mostly with words, and with fists if you had to. "How did you know you liked Annabel?" you say. "Or Laura? Or –" "Yeah yeah, point taken." He flashes that smile that had enchanted so many girls (and at least one guy). "So you just //knew//. Were there really never any girls you liked?" You lean back, carefully thinking it over while you draw the frown on your face that would imprint itself in wrinkles in the coming decades. "Dolly Parton," you finally say. "But that turned out to be awe of her talent and style. Shame I can’t pull off that look." Daniël chuckles. //God//, you think, //it’s not fair//. "And you? Ever considered going both ways?" you ask teasingly. It’s not like you were holding out hope, so better to just rip the bandaid straight off. "Both ways?" Daniël echoes. There is something in his tone that you think you recognise: too far. You took it too far. (Don’t you insinuate, don’t you dare) Retreat. "Yeah, like Bowie," you say, suddenly captivated by the contents of your economics textbook, avoiding his gaze. "Must be pretty cool. He gets all the options in the world." "I guess it is," you hear him say. "Never considered that." There is something in his voice that sounds like music to you. Soft and lively. Like the opening notes to Vivaldi's seasons, played on cello. You know that if you look at him right now, you'd be sure to melt away. So you don’t. Instead, you look at your textbook, your notes, your pencil scratching down numbers deeper and deeper into the paper until the tip breaks. So much for ripping off the bandaid. Now you know, and you still feel that knot twisting in your chest. It was silent for an eternity, or maybe just a minute; what’s the difference for a teenager with a heart that aches? "Could you explain integrals again?" Daniël says, bringing you back to this moment. "I thought I finally got it, but –" You drop your pencil, gladly taking this chance to move forward. Glad it’ll be the same, still. Nothing lost. Nothing wasted. You push your chair closer to his, mumbling a //what would you do without me//, as you lean in to read his notes. "So, for this function –" Your voice falters. Your heart skips a beat as it shrinks, only to expand in your chest with a wave of dazzling heat as you realise he placed his hand on your knee. His thumb draws small circles on the fabric of your jeans. //Play it cool, Gijs, for fucks sake.// Not that you’d know how to do that. This isn’t exactly your field of expertise. None of it is. Did he hear your surprised gasp for air? He must’ve. //Do something, at least!// You lean in closer, placing your arm on the backrest of his chair - a move you've seen played out in Sjaan's favourite films. The tips of your fingers brush over his shoulder as you go over his proof. "You solved that correctly, actually," you say in a voice shakier than you’d wanted. So much for cool and aloof. "Yeah, I know," he says. "I figured it out." God, he’s so close. You feel his breath on your skin, could count every freckle, every lock of blond hair dancing around his face. For a moment, there is nothing but quiet and the fast beating of your heart. Then, you feel his lips on yours, and the world falls into place. @@ @@ ----- [[=]] +++ August, 1996 [[/=]] ----- The world has been a [https://publichistory.humanities.uva.nl/queercollection/berts-logbook-informal-care-during-the-80s-and-90s-aids-epidemic-in-amsterdam/ dark, dark place] as of late. At times, the air in Amsterdam felt thick and dense, as if it planned to crash down on you and those around you. For some, [https://archief.amsterdam/beeldbank/?mode=gallery&view=horizontal&q=han%20singels%20aids&rows=25&page=3 it already had]. You’ve always been the stubborn kind. You wanted to be here. Felt you had to. This was the place and time to do your part. Despite it all. Sjaan called you almost every night. Daniël wrote cards and letters, chronicling his adventures overseas in the Land of Opportunity. You know he’d always wanted to study in America, and you would never take that away from him. It’s just – You miss the light he brings. It was a warm Thursday night when your wish was granted, and he walked back into your life. You were working the bar at Café De Tandarts when a tall, handsome young man came in. His hair had been bleached even blonder by the Californian sun, his nose covered in more freckles than you remembered. But his smile was the same, charming and bright. "Howdy stranger," you say in your thickest, fakest Southern American accent. "What brings ye here." "Heard you served some great spirits," he says, and he winks. "’Fraid you were lied to, old friend," you say. "Only Heineken on tap. But you know what they say about beer: even the worst pearpiss can be satisfying if tapped by skilled hands." You grab a clean glass, roll it over your arm like a bartender’s coin trick, and start to tap. "Oh, I certainly trust the skill of your hands." You can’t keep the awkward giggle in, and then stumble when you turn to hide your blush. The beer you tap (and promptly throw out) consists of more foam than liquid. He sits at the bar for the rest of your shift, striking up conversation with total strangers, or chatting with old friends as if not a day had passed since they last spoke. Every time you two lock eyes you feel this pull; a string around your heart or a magnet finding its pole. When it’s finally time to clock out, you step into a dreamlike haze. The canals of Amsterdam greet you with a new passion, the uneven cobblestones cheer with every step the two of you take. The sky is painted in purples and blues only seen on the pages of a fairy tale book. A little place of wonder, of beauty, the way only he could make it. You don’t hold hands – you don’t know who might see, might have an opinion to express. You don’t have to. The pull between you surpasses anything physics could define, built from belonging and willpower alone. For the first time in what seems like forever, you allow yourself to dream again. Two beating hearts and a future they could build. Only when you arrive at your crummy student apartment and you’re placing the two wine glasses you own (or: ‘borrowed’ from your job) on the kitchen table that doubles as your desk, you break the spell. "I thought your flight was tomorrow?" "Took an earlier one," he says, opening the bottle of wine he brought. "Barely slept, but I’ll catch up on sleep one day." The time measured in one glass of wine was all it took; the catching up binding you to another form, with your shirt on the floor and his fingers unbuckling your belt. That night, when you felt his body move with yours in the throws of a mundane ritual, his breath caressing the skin of your neck, his tongue outlining every curve and every corner of your existence, until you are whole and completed and more, so much more than that. That’s where you find it: a belief in wonder. @@ @@ ----- [[=]] +++ April, 2001 [[/=]] ----- You never thought much about marriage. Sure, you saw yourself settling down someday (with him, certainly). Maybe legally register as partners, or become that couple of gentlemen friends that throw the best dinner parties. Marriage, though, //marriage// was never really on the table. At least, not for you. Daniël could’ve gotten married if he’d wanted. If he had picked someone else, someone //not like you// to spend his life with. You knew he’d always wanted a big celebration. In the deepest, darkest corners of your anxious heart, you wondered whether it was fair you took that away from him. //You// were the one without a choice. //You// were the one kept out of that part of civilian life. If he had found a woman, he could have walked down the aisle. House with a garden and a white picket fence. A dog, three kids, ski trips and field hockey training. He would have thrived in that kind of life. You weren’t made for mundanity, even if you craved it. You also know it isn't fair to think that way. He chose you as much as you chose him. Your life together was one of a combined making. Just because he could’ve hidden, doesn’t mean he would have been accepted. Being erased is not approval. But those small pangs of guilt you feel, they are only human. Who wouldn’t wish to spare their loved ones the hurt of exclusion? The uncomfortable jokes from colleagues or dismissive looks from acquaintances? Who wouldn’t wish they could hug or hold hands or dine or travel or simply even exist without a second thought, without a care in the world who saw. It’s the fear you made his life harder than it had to be. And that your presence in it wasn't enough to make up for it. That is the essence of partnership, is it not? Love can only carry you so far. Partnership, marriage, companionship of any form; it’s the choice to carry the burden together. You discussed registering as partners when you moved in together. You could throw your own party, create your own vows and symbols. But that specific ritual, that symbol that held special meaning to him – that would always be out of reach. Until the new millennium began, and with it a new era. In those final months of 2000, Daniël had followed the news religiously. Read every piece of press coverage, devoured every debate. There hadn’t been a moment in his life he had been as interested in politics as those days, until the law was passed definitively. From April 2001 onwards, the Dutch government allowed legal marriage between same-sex couples. The first in the world. I won’t tell them how he proposed to you. I know you think back to it often, when you wonder how you’d get through the day. Your own little personal mantra, a symbol that guides you through the dark. That moment is only meant for you and him. @@ @@ ----- [[=]] +++ March, 2002 [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ [[=]] +++ Invite [[collapsible show="Open invite" hide="- Close"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> \|name=http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him/Wedding%20invite.jpg \|caption=to the wedding of Gijsbert Johannes van Oosterbeek & Daniël van den Bosch \| align=center \| width=100%]] [[/collapsible]] @@ @@ ----- [[=]] +++ September, 2006 [[/=]] ----- You’re sitting at the kitchen table, head in your hands. Uncharacteristically, your briefcase and coat have been dropped in the hallway, discarded. No need for procedures, for putting stuff in the right place, for neatness. For appearances. What does it matter anyway? The front door opens, and the smell of fresh fish fills the room. "You got herring?!" You look up at Daniël, who is putting the white plastic bag in the fridge. "And wine. It seemed like a ‘comfort food’ kind of day," he says. "What happened? They didn’t like your proposal?" You shake your head. "It’s over." "It can’t be that bad," he says. "The Christian parties can’t bury their heads in the sand forever, you’ve got enough –" "It’s over," you say, definitively. "The policy proposal, and my political career. It’s dead." "How?" He finally sits down next to you, taking your hand in his. "I kicked against the wrong institution," is all you say. "Just like that?" You nod slowly, then mimic an explosion. The metal of his wedding ring slips over your skin as he massages your hand. It's quiet for a moment. You’re still processing what you saw today. That life-shattering, world-bending, forever-changing revelation that makes so, so much more sense. A slumbering mass of the unimaginable that changes everything you’ve ever known. How much more was there, hidden under the everyday pragmatism of the Dutch? Under the ordinary events of the ever-spinning world? You carefully say: "There is something else. I got a job offer." "That’s good, isn’t it?" "It’s not the kind of job I can put on a resume." Daniël pauses. A boyish smile forms on his face. "You’re going to be a spy?" "Stop it, this is serious," you say, but the curl of a grin on your face betrays you. "If I’d known that, I’d have stopped to get olives and gin." "It’s not like that." You pull your hand back and sit upright. "But it is secretive. Background stuff." "So do your pro and con thing," he says. "What are the pros?" "It’s a fascinating subject that impacts our day-to-day so much more than I ever considered. Something new and exciting I can really sink my teeth in," you say. "The department they’d want me for is relatively new, so I can build it up the way I see fit. It’s important work. Essential. I can really make a difference here." "So what’s stopping you?" "It’s dangerous." "Remind me what happened to the last controversial, openly gay politician." "That’s low. What happened to Fortuyn is awful, but it was an exception, not a rule. And his sexuality had nothing to do with it," you say. "Also, I resent the suggestion we’re politically alike in any way! I am not a right-wing populist! I’m a left-from-centre progressive," you add, gesturing to underpin every word. "I know, I know." He takes your hand again. "I was just saying that every job has its dangers. What other downsides are there?" "I wouldn’t be able to talk about my work with you." "You barely do that now," he says. "You’re not into politics!" you say defensively. "And you’re not into the intricacies of marketing, but I can still talk about my day with you," he says. "As long as you can talk to me after a bad day, without the details, it should be fine, right?" "It’s not the kind of world you can get out of, once you get into it," you say. "Gijssie, sweetie, I’m going to be honest with you." He pulls you closer. "You’re a creature of habit. You haven’t changed your aftershave since secondary school graduation. The only times you take a step outside Utrecht is when I force you to." "So you think I should take the offer?" "I think you’ve already made your choice, and you’re just asking me for permission to make a big life change," he says. "Because it’s too scary to make that choice on your own." The best and worst moments are the ones when you realise that he knows you better than you know yourself. Worst, because he knows every flaw and every insecurity. Best, because he always has, and he still loves you. "Maybe you can grow a beard when you’re out of the public eye. Fits with anonymity, and I bet it looks dashing on you." He leans in, planting kiss after kiss on your neck. "Especially when they give you a licence to kill." "Stop fetishizing my career!" you say, but you’re laughing. "I’m just saying, I’d make one hell of a Bond girl." "You would, yeah. You got the legs for it," you say, your fingers sliding over his trousers. "If you don’t want to be Bond, I can think of something else." "It’s not spy stuff," you say again. "More like, grey area stuff. Working within the lines of the law in new areas, where the law needs to be defined. Paperwork and bureaucratic procedures. Research." "Keep talking dirty to me, Mr. Smiley." "Smiley?! That’s the only other spy you can think of?" you say. "Do I look like Alec Guinness?" "It’s not appearance that does it," he says as he unbuttons your waistcoat. "He has a certain gravitas. Quiet, proper, and dangerous." "That doesn’t sound like me." "Oh, don’t tell me you don’t have that side. I can see it," he continues. "The man in the crowd, slipping in and out of vision. Pulling the strings from the dark, fighting the enemy from inside a filing cabinet." "You’re really selling it to me, marketing man." "We all have our talents," he says before kissing you, and you have to agree. So you took the chance, and took the change. Entered a world of wonders small and large, unpleasant and dangerous. You became the man in the shadows, fighting an unknowable enemy armed with wits and a briefcase full of procedures and regulations. It was a life that fitted you like a glove, one you thrived at, even though you’d hardly admit it. Humility is a virtue in this line of work, isn’t it? And on the days that glove chafed and the shadows were so thick you could hardly breathe, you got through it because of that man waiting for you at home, who was convinced the world was safer with you in it. And you knew that at the end of the day, you didn’t have to do it alone. @@ @@ ----- [[=]] +++ Today [[/=]] ----- It’s a morning like most others. You’ve just turned the coffee machine on and are staring out of the kitchen window. Dawn had only started to outline the world and your front garden, which needed a trim and some weeding - put it on the chore board for this weekend. Daniël had gotten up at six, as he always does, and slipped out of bed to his home office. He’d answer emails or prepare slide decks for presentations about stuff that, in the great scheme of things, didn’t matter. Then he’d go for his morning run, and by the time he gets back you’d woken up. As you are placing breakfast – slices of cheese on white bread and coffee for you, a protein smoothie and banana peanut sandwiches for him – on the kitchen table, you stare for a moment. Caught in the mundanity of it all. The smallness. Just another morning, like every other. For a moment you can picture the two of you, sitting around a kitchen table covered in homework material. You remember giddily scrolling through matching wedding tuxedos, laughing at the tacky designs. You recall pouring over your finances when Daniël lost his job during the recession, and you had to figure out how to make it work on your salary alone. You can still feel the soft reassurance of his touch when you addressed the invites to Sjaan’s funeral. All those moments, little fragments of what made your life what it is today. A place where you share your meals and moments, where you return after fighting, celebrating, making love. Every day again and again. The spell is broken when you hear Daniël coming down the stairs. "You won’t believe what happened," he says, still buttoning up his shirt. "They promoted Jan-Pieter to Head of Social Media and Branding." "Is he the one that complained about his assistant’s pronouns in her email signature, or the one that preached about playing squash like he just got baptised?" "The one who went on that juice cleanse that made him smell like fermented garlic and called it //bio-hacking//." He sits down and takes a sip from his smoothie. "You know what his first act of business was? Proposing to rename the team to Social Branding and Platforms. Since that ‘captured the essence of our work better’." "Ridiculous," you say, guessing from context. "How do you survive these people?" "Same way you survive all that paperwork," he says. "I soldier on." You roll your wedding ring around your finger. "What’s your day going to look like?" he says. "How’s Smiley’s business?" "Under control," you say, with a small smile. And that is all he needs to know. You live in a world of abnormality. Of wonders and miracles, monsters and horrors. But you keep them outside of your door. Here, at the kitchen table, the world is mundane. The world is small. And it matters, to the two of you. So you’ll continue "Smiley’s business" every day, keeping the world going. And every night, you return to a table set with dinner cooked by your husband. And you remember why you’ll do it all over again tomorrow. For those moments around that kitchen table, and the small, mundane wonder of him and you. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Wedding Invite-a > Author: [[user Flypurgatorio]] > License:* Creative Commons CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: tba > Derivative of: Kikvorschkil, Biesbosch, Dordrecht (32943855446).jpg; Euphoria Script. > Filename: Kikvorschkil, Biesbosch, Dordrecht (32943855446).jpg > Author: Paul van de Velde from Netherlands > License: Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kikvorschkil,_Biesbosch,_Dordrecht_(32943855446).jpg > Filename: Euphoria Script > Author: Sabrina Mariela Lopez > License: Open Font License > Source Link: https://fonts.google.com/specimen/Euphoria+Script?category=Handwriting [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-23T16:29:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "heartwarming", "lgbtq", "reviewers-spotlight", "romance", "second-person", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	The mundanity of you and him - SCP Foundation	53	[ "flys-purgatory", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii" ]	[ "http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him/Wedding%20invite.jpg" ]	1448598654	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-mundanity-of-you-and-him
the-museum-of-shapes-welcomes-you	<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>The Museum Of Shapes Welcomes You!</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;"><img alt="Dr Vikki Lost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8759091&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728675249" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8759091)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;">Dr Vikki Lost</a></span></p> <p>As <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/poufypoufson" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8588098); return false;"><img alt="PoufyPoufson" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8588098&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728675249" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8588098)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/poufypoufson" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8588098); return false;">PoufyPoufson</a></span> mentioned they were finished with their shape series, I thought I'd write something to honour the magic. Hope you enjoy <3</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="center no-repeat ; float: center; border: solid 2px #000000; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 5px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Welcome in, Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]. I didn’t expect to meet you so soon. Oh, around 250 more years, at least. How did you find us? Well, of course you wouldn’t know. If you don’t know knowledge as what you don’t know you won’t find knowing of unknowing, I don’t think you’re quite ready to tour the exhibition. Oh, you understand perfectly? I’m pleased. It’s really just everything.</p> <p>I'll be your tour guide for today. You can call me The Guide. On the nose? I get that a lot. The Museum of Shapes welcomes you warmly, Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]. It just reached 24 degrees Celcius on this side. I have to warn you - the East Wing is still theoretical, so the Penrose series will have to wait until the next cycle. If you have trouble making it to our next showing, I’d suggest counting to 377 until you feel it dissolve on your tongue.</p> <p>You like the tiling? Ah, the Curator was very pleased with that. We had originally considered a checkered existence, or the ovals, but in the end, the Tritone paradox print just worked too perfectly. Got it all installed by next week!</p> <p>Follow me, we’ll take the elevator. The stairs breached probability last week, so we’re still getting a handle on them. If you don’t see any workers, just pretend they’re there.</p> <p>Foundation, hm? Oh, I guessed from the badge. Mx. Thorley was here just the other day, they’re our most regular visitor in this particular hour. Perfect. Floor 7.</p> <p>Welcome to the Gallery of Solids! I’m afraid we haven’t managed to wrangle in anything beyond 9 dimensions, but most things aren’t conceptually stable enough to display after 7. To your left, you’ll see our collection of Platonic Solids! <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7575" target="_blank">The Cube</a><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> is a particular beauty, recovered from Portsmouth, Wales. Oh, it’s a beautiful city in the summer, especially after last year's tourist boom. Our post-mortem estimate was 450 visitors, though we couldn’t know about all the bodies yet.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></p> <p>Dr. <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> recently came asking after this piece, actually, and looked more than excited to see it. You don’t know who that is? Right, I forget the scaling of your world too often. Whoever designed it truly has the oddest fascination with physical significance. What? We don’t <em>measure</em> things, Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]. We understand their size. It’s quite simple, really.</p> <p>Moving on, watch your step- right-</p> <p>Next, this <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7783/comments/show" target="_blank">Tetrahedron</a> was a favourite of the Curator, before her death in 1953. Oh, don’t look so concerned! She recovered swimmingly, the freshwater has done wonders with her complexion. Where’s the shape? Well, we can’t count on it being visible now, can we. Or real, for that matter. The edges and angles are all congruent, and the faces meet at the vertex, so I don’t know what else you’d call it. Really, I’d expect more open minds. It’s the 21st century!</p> <p>Seeing as these all are part of your 3-dimensional Euclidean space, I don’t know why you put the Cube as Safe. Semantics, I’m sure. In the words of my colleague, the lovely Geometer, “I eat semantics for breakfast”. You can find that quote on the seventh floor cafe, actually! I’ll take you there next.</p> <p>Up next, the Octahedron - the dual of the cube, and the one Plato associated so dramatically with air. If you look inside the reflective glass from the right- yes, stand at the tape, so you can see it - the particles inside are <em>wonderfully</em> autogenerative. It can only sustain oxygen structures, so anything less is naturally an easy target for dark matter formation. We believe it may be semantically connected to the death cycle of stars, actually! Wouldn’t that be nice?</p> <p>Moving on, the Icosahedron has recently been replaced with an authentic 1952 poster of James Dean starring in the off-Broadway show “The Metamorphosis”, inspired by Kafka’s classic book. Though, don’t worry, the Geometer inspected it last week and we’re certain this is simply a phase. It wouldn’t be right, having a geometric concept attempt to mimic artistic commentary. We’re hoping that re-introduction of the original dimensions will have it acting like a proper shape in no time.</p> <p>The Dodecahedron, which usually would be last, has been recently relocated to a mirror image of your dimension. Some experiment on reimagining the human understanding of Zodiacal patterns. If it goes well, we may be able to flirt with introducing some new concepts to your original reality! How would you feel about a <em>twelve</em>-month calendar, instead of the measly 10? Well, I suppose you won’t complain either way.</p> <p>Now- enough Platonics. On past the Romantic shapes, I’d say, too sentimental for 11:00 in the morning. Oh, don’t worry, the Jetlag won’t be too bad once you return. As long as you follow proper shift procedure.</p> <p>Oh- now this-</p> <p>This is quite the beauty.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7793" target="_blank">The Sphere.</a></p> <p>I believe the Curator said She heard about this on Her trip to the Bahamas in 55’, though we didn’t manage to find it until 2014. Actually, I believe this is one of the Seven objects She’s conceptually merged with, though don’t take my word on that. The senesence was a risky choice, but She’s already been bound to Tipler’s Omega point on ten different probability charts.</p> <p>Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED], I’m quite impressed with your studious manner. I admit we’ve gone a good while without a patron who lasted this long. The Curator has been particularly unhappy about that.</p> <p>That’s all we have in this wing that you’re conceptually stable enough to see, I’m afraid, though that’s not the end of the floor. The South Wing has some <em>excellent</em> polytopes, and I can show you some of our Posthumanist Geometric artwork if you’re… oh, right! I promised we’d take a detour through the cafeteria before we continue our tour through the Museum of Shapes.</p> <p>Just through this door, then, and careful not to think of any Arthropods when we pass the golden birdcage to your right. Right on! It should be just down the hall.</p> <p>So, how do you feel about bagels?</p> </div> </div> <br/> <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>. Do not verify without authorisation</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. Do not verify without authorisation</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-museum-of-shapes-welcomes-you">The Museum Of Shapes Welcomes You!</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-museum-of-shapes-welcomes-you">https://scpwiki.com/the-museum-of-shapes-welcomes-you</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>]] The Museum Of Shapes Welcomes You! Author: [[user Dr Vikki Lost]] As [[user PoufyPoufson]] mentioned they were finished with their shape series, I thought I'd write something to honour the magic. Hope you enjoy <3 [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[div style="center no-repeat ; float: center; border: solid 2px #000000; padding: 1px 15px; margin: 5px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[=]] Welcome in, Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]. I didn’t expect to meet you so soon. Oh, around 250 more years, at least. How did you find us? Well, of course you wouldn’t know. If you don’t know knowledge as what you don’t know you won’t find knowing of unknowing, I don’t think you’re quite ready to tour the exhibition. Oh, you understand perfectly? I’m pleased. It’s really just everything. I'll be your tour guide for today. You can call me The Guide. On the nose? I get that a lot. The Museum of Shapes welcomes you warmly, Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]. It just reached 24 degrees Celcius on this side. I have to warn you - the East Wing is still theoretical, so the Penrose series will have to wait until the next cycle. If you have trouble making it to our next showing, I’d suggest counting to 377 until you feel it dissolve on your tongue. You like the tiling? Ah, the Curator was very pleased with that. We had originally considered a checkered existence, or the ovals, but in the end, the Tritone paradox print just worked too perfectly. Got it all installed by next week! Follow me, we’ll take the elevator. The stairs breached probability last week, so we’re still getting a handle on them. If you don’t see any workers, just pretend they’re there. Foundation, hm? Oh, I guessed from the badge. Mx. Thorley was here just the other day, they’re our most regular visitor in this particular hour. Perfect. Floor 7. Welcome to the Gallery of Solids! I’m afraid we haven’t managed to wrangle in anything beyond 9 dimensions, but most things aren’t conceptually stable enough to display after 7. To your left, you’ll see our collection of Platonic Solids! [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7575 The Cube][[footnote]] Do not verify without authorisation [[/footnote]] is a particular beauty, recovered from Portsmouth, Wales. Oh, it’s a beautiful city in the summer, especially after last year's tourist boom. Our post-mortem estimate was 450 visitors, though we couldn’t know about all the bodies yet.[[footnote]]Do not verify without authorisation [[/footnote]] Dr. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ recently came asking after this piece, actually, and looked more than excited to see it. You don’t know who that is? Right, I forget the scaling of your world too often. Whoever designed it truly has the oddest fascination with physical significance. What? We don’t //measure// things, Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED]. We understand their size. It’s quite simple, really. Moving on, watch your step- right- Next, this [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7783/comments/show Tetrahedron] was a favourite of the Curator, before her death in 1953. Oh, don’t look so concerned! She recovered swimmingly, the freshwater has done wonders with her complexion. Where’s the shape? Well, we can’t count on it being visible now, can we. Or real, for that matter. The edges and angles are all congruent, and the faces meet at the vertex, so I don’t know what else you’d call it. Really, I’d expect more open minds. It’s the 21st century! Seeing as these all are part of your 3-dimensional Euclidean space, I don’t know why you put the Cube as Safe. Semantics, I’m sure. In the words of my colleague, the lovely Geometer, “I eat semantics for breakfast”. You can find that quote on the seventh floor cafe, actually! I’ll take you there next. Up next, the Octahedron - the dual of the cube, and the one Plato associated so dramatically with air. If you look inside the reflective glass from the right- yes, stand at the tape, so you can see it - the particles inside are //wonderfully// autogenerative. It can only sustain oxygen structures, so anything less is naturally an easy target for dark matter formation. We believe it may be semantically connected to the death cycle of stars, actually! Wouldn’t that be nice? Moving on, the Icosahedron has recently been replaced with an authentic 1952 poster of James Dean starring in the off-Broadway show “The Metamorphosis”, inspired by Kafka’s classic book. Though, don’t worry, the Geometer inspected it last week and we’re certain this is simply a phase. It wouldn’t be right, having a geometric concept attempt to mimic artistic commentary. We’re hoping that re-introduction of the original dimensions will have it acting like a proper shape in no time. The Dodecahedron, which usually would be last, has been recently relocated to a mirror image of your dimension. Some experiment on reimagining the human understanding of Zodiacal patterns. If it goes well, we may be able to flirt with introducing some new concepts to your original reality! How would you feel about a //twelve//-month calendar, instead of the measly 10? Well, I suppose you won’t complain either way. Now- enough Platonics. On past the Romantic shapes, I’d say, too sentimental for 11:00 in the morning. Oh, don’t worry, the Jetlag won’t be too bad once you return. As long as you follow proper shift procedure. Oh- now this- This is quite the beauty. [*https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7793 The Sphere.] I believe the Curator said She heard about this on Her trip to the Bahamas in 55’, though we didn’t manage to find it until 2014. Actually, I believe this is one of the Seven objects She’s conceptually merged with, though don’t take my word on that. The senesence was a risky choice, but She’s already been bound to Tipler’s Omega point on ten different probability charts. Dr. [DATA EXPUNGED], I’m quite impressed with your studious manner. I admit we’ve gone a good while without a patron who lasted this long. The Curator has been particularly unhappy about that. That’s all we have in this wing that you’re conceptually stable enough to see, I’m afraid, though that’s not the end of the floor. The South Wing has some //excellent// polytopes, and I can show you some of our Posthumanist Geometric artwork if you’re… oh, right! I promised we’d take a detour through the cafeteria before we continue our tour through the Museum of Shapes. Just through this door, then, and careful not to think of any Arthropods when we pass the golden birdcage to your right. Right on! It should be just down the hall. So, how do you feel about bagels? [[/=]] [[/div]] [[footnoteblock]] [[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>]]	2023-12-17T18:23:00	[ "_licensebox", "otherworldly", "surrealism", "tale" ]	The Museum Of Shapes Welcomes You! - SCP Foundation	12	[ "scp-7575", "scp-7783/comments/show", "scp-7793", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "twin-sites-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451871353	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-museum-of-shapes-welcomes-you
the-myself-that-belongs-to-me	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>It's been what feels like ages since I last looked beautiful.</p> <p>The thing is that my beauty is inhuman now. Skin that's lashed with fire, taut in places it shouldn't be. Bones that have been lived in for way too long. Muscles that haven't decided to be small or toned. Fats that cushion my abdomen but fail to hide how my pelvis juts out the sides. A body that runs on an appetite of sensation and little more.</p> <p>My prized possession is a fur coat. You'd be surprised; compared to what I usually have on, especially. An indescribable animal's shearings that weigh like nothing even as it trails behind me by an extra foot. Paired with a dress and heels but a minute later, I finally understood what it felt like to be eye level with… a colleague of mine at the time.</p> <p>The last time I was dressed by someone else before that was when we were— when I was eight. In the same week I got put into my dad's flannel to go fishing with my grandfather, I got put into a leotard for some ballet exam I only half-cared about. Even then, heels seemed like something only important people wear. Important, mean people, like the instructor. Like your mother, who visited the place and chose me, out of anyone. I apparently did second best in the group, only losing to you by the width of a pretty feather.</p> <p>It did feel good to feel tall for once, yes, thank you.</p> <p>But even with that; and with dressings and accessories and a giant mirror just like that dance studio from long ago, a mirror to look at and admire myself… pretty isn't beautiful, and at the time I certainly didn't enjoy staring at the scrawny version of me whenever I had to put clothes on every day. But I was, at that instant, made to be pretty again nonetheless.</p> <p>Hey, don't worry about all that, it's not your fault your mother was insane enough to make me into one of her experiments. No— my turn to talk– hush. You don't get to say it's your fault, this is her problem, not yours.</p> <p>I got all of those clothes for free because apparently a few Overseers get their tailored armor from the same place. I had to wear red for the dinner event they had me attend, but everything else I echoed from the outfits you used to wear. Heels, dress, hat. Immaculate, dangerous, beautiful.</p> <p>I know you don't remember. That's why I'm telling you all this. That's why we're here in this car driving to your family. That's why I'm agreeing to go with your little scheme. You don't have to remember anything to know I'm here for you.</p> <p>Really. I am. Not just for the vengeance-against-your-mother part of the deal, though it helps. Also, am I overdoing it on the distortion? Last I tried my anomaly on a car I made my passenger bend over the side of the highway to puke her guts out. You're fine? You're good? Okay.</p> <p>Okay.</p> <p>I… well. There's no skirting around this; I don't like myself, never have, and before all this, you were the kind of person that made me feel even worse. Not even maliciously, but you did fuck me up for years on end. Your mother made me a monster, and the convenience of time dilation doesn't make up for the stares and gasps people do when they see my broken face.</p> <p>Let's run through the plan again.</p> <p>We go in the house. You introduce me as your boyfriend. We get into our room and unpack. I start shit with Golden Child Of The Family while you incite your mother. We sit down for dinner and wait for the explosion.</p> <p>And I… well I think I'm going to scrap the speech I wrote and just go for the kill for efficiency. Hopefully, you also get to die in this arrangement, as sad it would be to see you go. I can't imagine, based on my wrath with your family, how it feels to be a part of that mess.</p> <p>But if we succeed here and make it out alive, let's hold a proper funeral party for our past selves. To celebrate the death of who did this to us. Real wood coffin to bury instead of our remnants in a shoebox. Dinner at a famous restaurant in a certain Nexus that owes me favors here and there.</p> <p>It's a date, then. And…I'll wear my fur coat when we do. Maybe I'll feel beautiful again— maybe I'll be a human person again.</p> <p>I truly can't wait.</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-myself-that-belongs-to-me">The Myself That Belongs To Me</a>" by RuraScarlet, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-myself-that-belongs-to-me">https://scpwiki.com/the-myself-that-belongs-to-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>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] It's been what feels like ages since I last looked beautiful. The thing is that my beauty is inhuman now. Skin that's lashed with fire, taut in places it shouldn't be. Bones that have been lived in for way too long. Muscles that haven't decided to be small or toned. Fats that cushion my abdomen but fail to hide how my pelvis juts out the sides. A body that runs on an appetite of sensation and little more. My prized possession is a fur coat. You'd be surprised; compared to what I usually have on, especially. An indescribable animal's shearings that weigh like nothing even as it trails behind me by an extra foot. Paired with a dress and heels but a minute later, I finally understood what it felt like to be eye level with… a colleague of mine at the time. The last time I was dressed by someone else before that was when we were— when I was eight. In the same week I got put into my dad's flannel to go fishing with my grandfather, I got put into a leotard for some ballet exam I only half-cared about. Even then, heels seemed like something only important people wear. Important, mean people, like the instructor. Like your mother, who visited the place and chose me, out of anyone. I apparently did second best in the group, only losing to you by the width of a pretty feather. It did feel good to feel tall for once, yes, thank you. But even with that; and with dressings and accessories and a giant mirror just like that dance studio from long ago, a mirror to look at and admire myself… pretty isn't beautiful, and at the time I certainly didn't enjoy staring at the scrawny version of me whenever I had to put clothes on every day. But I was, at that instant, made to be pretty again nonetheless. Hey, don't worry about all that, it's not your fault your mother was insane enough to make me into one of her experiments. No— my turn to talk– hush. You don't get to say it's your fault, this is her problem, not yours. I got all of those clothes for free because apparently a few Overseers get their tailored armor from the same place. I had to wear red for the dinner event they had me attend, but everything else I echoed from the outfits you used to wear. Heels, dress, hat. Immaculate, dangerous, beautiful. I know you don't remember. That's why I'm telling you all this. That's why we're here in this car driving to your family. That's why I'm agreeing to go with your little scheme. You don't have to remember anything to know I'm here for you. Really. I am. Not just for the vengeance-against-your-mother part of the deal, though it helps. Also, am I overdoing it on the distortion? Last I tried my anomaly on a car I made my passenger bend over the side of the highway to puke her guts out. You're fine? You're good? Okay. Okay. I… well. There's no skirting around this; I don't like myself, never have, and before all this, you were the kind of person that made me feel even worse. Not even maliciously, but you did fuck me up for years on end. Your mother made me a monster, and the convenience of time dilation doesn't make up for the stares and gasps people do when they see my broken face. Let's run through the plan again. We go in the house. You introduce me as your boyfriend. We get into our room and unpack. I start shit with Golden Child Of The Family while you incite your mother. We sit down for dinner and wait for the explosion. And I… well I think I'm going to scrap the speech I wrote and just go for the kill for efficiency. Hopefully, you also get to die in this arrangement, as sad it would be to see you go. I can't imagine, based on my wrath with your family, how it feels to be a part of that mess. But if we succeed here and make it out alive, let's hold a proper funeral party for our past selves. To celebrate the death of who did this to us. Real wood coffin to bury instead of our remnants in a shoebox. Dinner at a famous restaurant in a certain Nexus that owes me favors here and there. It's a date, then. And…I'll wear my fur coat when we do. Maybe I'll feel beautiful again— maybe I'll be a human person again. I truly can't wait. [[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>]]	2023-01-04T19:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "coldpostcon", "tale" ]	The Myself That Belongs To Me - SCP Foundation	6	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "coldpostcon" ]	[]	1445390851	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-myself-that-belongs-to-me
the-nuclear-option	<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>The Nuclear Option</strong></p> <blockquote> <p>What happens after the big red button.</p> </blockquote> <p><strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/captain-kirby" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3440103); return false;"><img alt="Captain Kirby" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3440103&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1731209071" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3440103)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/captain-kirby" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3440103); return false;">Captain Kirby</a></span><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h5 id="toc0"><span>SCPs</span></h5> </div> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>SCP Number</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3393">SCP-3393</a></td> <td>1308</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/captain-kirby-s-proposal">Captain Kirby's Proposal</a></td> <td>819</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4514">SCP-4514</a></td> <td>670</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3448">SCP-3448</a></td> <td>622</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5552">SCP-5552</a></td> <td>598</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3844">SCP-3844</a></td> <td>534</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3388">SCP-3388</a></td> <td>492</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3866">SCP-3866</a></td> <td>447</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5003">SCP-5003</a></td> <td>442</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3305">SCP-3305</a></td> <td>411</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3449">SCP-3449</a></td> <td>388</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4877">SCP-4877</a></td> <td>387</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4321">SCP-4321</a></td> <td>352</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-016-j">SCP-016-J</a></td> <td>281</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7100">SCP-7100</a></td> <td>278</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3123">SCP-3123</a></td> <td>239</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3393-ex">SCP-3393-EX</a></td> <td>229</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-1057-j">SPC-1057</a></td> <td>223</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3511">SCP-3511</a></td> <td>211</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6007">SCP-6007</a></td> <td>200</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3633">SCP-3633</a></td> <td>193</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4925">SCP-4925</a></td> <td>192</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4479">SCP-4479</a></td> <td>190</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3767">SCP-3767</a></td> <td>174</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4316">SCP-4316</a></td> <td>166</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4775">SCP-4775</a></td> <td>143</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4034">SCP-4034</a></td> <td>139</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5877">SCP-5877</a></td> <td>119</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5448">SCP-5448</a></td> <td>112</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3650">SCP-3650</a></td> <td>103</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3203">SCP-3203</a></td> <td>70</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5779">SCP-5779</a></td> <td>63</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3405">SCP-3405</a></td> <td>55</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3481">SCP-3481</a></td> <td>52</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h5 id="toc1"><span>Tales</span></h5> </div> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-nuclear-option">The Nuclear Option</a></td> <td>549</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/impossible-to-destroy-reptile">Impossible-To-Destroy Reptile</a></td> <td>493</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/in-the-clutches-of-life">In The Clutches Of Life</a></td> <td>399</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/numbers-never-die">Numbers, Like Stories, Never Die</a></td> <td>335</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-tombstone-of-alto-clef">The Tombstone of Alto Clef</a></td> <td>264</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-foundation-wants-a-robot-army">Tales of the Ethics Committee: 5 Reasons The Foundation Wants A Robot Army</a></td> <td>237</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/societal-census-programme">Excerpts From The Societal Census Programme ΩK-Class Report</a></td> <td>234</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/with-the-reaper-on-retirement">With The Reaper On Retirement</a></td> <td>230</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/do-you-remember-funerals">Do You Remember Funerals?</a></td> <td>174</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/from-the-clutches-of-life">From The Clutches Of Life</a></td> <td>155</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/where-death-used-to-live">Where Death Used To Live</a></td> <td>151</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/project-damn-oh-fuck">Project Damnerung</a></td> <td>148</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/hello-my-name-isnt">Hello, My Name Isn't</a></td> <td>147</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/dont-get-used-to-it">Don't Get Used To It</a></td> <td>143</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-many-portraits-of-jack-bright">The Many Portraits Of Jack Bright</a></td> <td>140</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/group-date">Group Date</a></td> <td>140</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/monochrome">Monochrome</a></td> <td>132</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/hundred-year-favor">Hundred-Year Favor</a></td> <td>125</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-most-masked-of-men">Even The Most Masked Of Men Become Themselves Behind Closed Doors</a></td> <td>113</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/you-have-18-unread-messages">You Have 18 Unread Messages</a></td> <td>102</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/everyday-is-somebodys-birthday">Everyday Is Somebody's Birthday</a></td> <td>98</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-shape-of-a-noose">The Shape of a Noose</a></td> <td>76</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-failed-two-weeks-notice">A Failed Two Weeks Notice</a></td> <td>69</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/pink-cracks-in-a-digital-wall">Pink Cracks in a Digital Wall</a></td> <td>66</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/until-death-do-us-part">'Til Death Do Us Part</a></td> <td>65</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/rocks-and-trees-are-not-good-company">Rocks And Trees Are Not Good Company</a></td> <td>64</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/tears-of-a-neon-god">Tears of a Neon God</a></td> <td>57</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/poky-and-pal-scheme-together">Poky And Pal Scheme Together</a></td> <td>55</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-eulogy-in-eleven-eight-time">A Eulogy In 11/8 Time</a></td> <td>53</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/carnivores">Carnivores</a></td> <td>53</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/is-anybody-home">Is Anybody Home?</a></td> <td>53</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/poky-and-pal-arm-themselves">Poky And Pal Arm Themselves</a></td> <td>49</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/virtue">Virtue</a></td> <td>46</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/when-it-rains-it-pours">When It Rains, It Pours</a></td> <td>45</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/god-knows-where">God-Knows-Where</a></td> <td>39</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/numb">I Felt Numb</a></td> <td>39</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/it-s-a-nice-day-out">It's A Nice Day Out</a></td> <td>38</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/attempts-to-salvage-thought">Attempts To Salvage Thought</a></td> <td>36</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/i-am-wonderful">I Am Wonderful</a></td> <td>33</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/outrun">Outrun</a></td> <td>29</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/they-are-laughing-at-you">They Are Not Laughing With You</a></td> <td>28</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/what-is-there-to-do-with-a-pot-of-gold">What Is There To Do With A Pot Of Gold?</a></td> <td>27</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/life-and-death-of-site-78">Containment's A Beach</a></td> <td>22</td> </tr> </table> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h5 id="toc2"><span>GOI Formats</span></h5> </div> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Title</th> <th>Rating</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/captain-kirby-s-holistic-proposal">Captain Kirby's Proposal, Or Something</a></td> <td>191</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/my-head-is-on-fire-and-im-not-ok">My Head Is On Fire And I'm (Not) Ok</a></td> <td>102</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/project-proposal-2004-013-2014-114-2024-072">Project Proposals 2004-013/2014-114/2024-072: "Losing Your Cool"</a></td> <td>71</td> </tr> </table> </div> <hr/> <h4 id="toc3"><span>You may also like:</span></h4> <p><strong><a href="/pila">Pila</a></strong> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/troyl" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(451071); return false;"><img alt="TroyL" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=451071&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1731209071" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=451071)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/troyl" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(451071); return false;">TroyL</a></span></p> <blockquote> <p>SCP-9999: A Gun</p> </blockquote> <p><strong><a href="/scp-3000-ex">SCP-3000-EX</a></strong> by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/psul" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2156983); return false;"><img alt="psul" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2156983&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1731209071" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2156983)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/psul" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2156983); return false;">psul</a></span></p> <blockquote> <p>The murder trial of the "Arlington Cannibal" was thrown out of court yesterday, when the District Attorney's case collapsed in spectacular fashion.</p> </blockquote> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>"You are standing on top of an atomic bomb."</p> <p>No one at orientation believed the Director, they never do. We all just chuckled and waited for him to shoot us a playful smile. But light laughter turned to silence, and his face never changed.</p> <p>"You are standing on top of an atomic bomb, and one day, you might have to detonate it."</p> <p>By the end of that orientation, after hearing the emergency procedures and protocols for activating a nuclear warhead, I comprehended this fact. But I never understood it. Not as the klaxons blared, and the emergency lights flooded the walls of the site in a deep red. Not as I heard the ripping of metal and the screams from the floors above me. Not as I looked into the fading eyes of the Director.</p> <p>His hand, bloodied and broken, places an envelope in mine. It's labeled "authorization codes". I can feel a key inside of it.</p> <p>"You are standing on top of an atomic bomb," he sputters. His body falls limp. He is dead.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;">On-Site Nuclear Warhead Protocol</span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>All major Foundation sites are to be outfitted with an on-site nuclear warhead. In the case of a major containment breach, where it is believed that anomalies will make mass, and unrecoverable, contact with a baseline human populace, this warhead is to be detonated to ensure the continued success of the Foundation's mission.</p> <p>Each warhead is outfitted with remote detonation capabilities, and, given the proper authorization codes, can be activated at any major Foundation site. However, due to the possibility of communicational interference that could be caused by a containment breach, all warheads may also be activated manually, and on-site. If a warhead is detonated in this manner, it is assumed that the site was under a severe and otherwise irrecoverable containment breach, and thus, there will be no countdown.</p> <p>The decision to detonate the nuclear warhead must be unanimous among the following individuals:</p> <p>1. The Site Director, who has the requisite information regarding the site to determine the likelihood.</p> <p>2. The Lead On-Site Containment Specialist, who can assess the severity of the breach in question.</p> <p>3. At least 3 O5 Council Members</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: line-through;">4. The member of the on-site detonation team responsible for the operation of the nuclear warhead</span></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>I sprint down the stairwell, practically leaping down flights of stairs. Into the breach, deeper deeper. I overestimate my power and tumble face first into a wall, but the pain is numbing and I just keep going. Deeper deeper.</p> <p>The outlines of monsters play out through the windowed doors. Each floor is home to new amalgams of shadows and silhouettes that my brain was better off failing to comprehend. This is what they warned us about. This is what happens when things go bad.</p> <p>Finally I hit the bottom of the stairwell. I open the envelope and unfurl a slip of paper inside. I punch the first passcode into the door. I can barely read it through the blotches of blood. The door clicks.</p> <p>I burst my way inside to the only room that has been untouched by the catastrophe. It feels like a scene out of a 1980s sci-fi movie, with analog control panels and CRT monitors. The surfaces are coated in dust and the corners are colonized by spiderwebs. I can feel my hands shaking. I take a deep breath.</p> <hr/> <p>"Doesn't it bother you?"</p> <p>"Doesn't what bother me?"</p> <p>"You know… the thought that any moment, you might just evaporate in a blast of fire and radiation?"</p> <p>"Because I work here?"</p> <p>"Well, yeah. We are standing on top of an atomic bomb."</p> <p>"I just don't think working here is any different from waiting tables in that respect."</p> <p>"Do I have to repeat the thing about the atomic bomb under the floorboards?"</p> <p>"Jerry, ultimately the question isn't about the distance to the bomb, right? The question is about the existential dread. The fear of being the next Chernobyl. And while that has its own sense of fear… the end result is not that different from a city on the coast becoming the next Hiroshima. The only difference is whether the blast is coming from below or above. But it's all the same. It's all the same fire. It's all the same ash. Same radiation poisoning."</p> <p>"And you're just OK with that?"</p> <p>"We've been living at the other end of a gun called 'The Nuclear Bomb' since the mid 1940s. Just because you finally realized that, doesn't change the fact that we don't have much choice <em>but</em> to be OK with it."</p> <p>"… I'm not sure I can accept that."</p> <p>"Then run for fucking President, Jerry. Join a disarmament movement. But you're not going to fix that problem working for the Foundation."</p> <hr/> <p>The site directors and the overseers talk a big game about how difficult their job is. How hard it is to make the decisions they do. They have had to sacrifice so much to maintain normalcy, and they can feel the weight of each and every life on their shoulders. Atlases, the lot of them.</p> <p>They tell us this from behind their nice fancy desk, in their office lined with mahogany bookshelves and diamond chandeliers. Or from behind a screen half-way across the world. Where they then lean back and feel the weight… of the little number in their spreadsheet going up and down.</p> <p>They aren't the ones turning the key. They aren't the ones pushing the button. They aren't the ones making the decision.</p> <p>I feel the weight of the brass in my palm. It's sapped the heat from my hand and now feels like an extension of my fingers. I shove it inside the control panel, which blinks and whirs to life.</p> <hr/> <p>The Foundation started putting atomic bombs in their sites ever since Oppenheimer blew one up in New Mexico. Even as the Foundation expanded in the 60s and 70s, building up the massive Site-17, Site-19, Site-43, Site-120, the nuclear warhead remained a fixture of the architectural layouts. And they weren't careless about the placement of the sites either. They were remote, so far away that only a few thousand people would even see the smoke.</p> <p>But that was fifty years ago. And nobody properly understood the scope of urban sprawl. The winding tendrils of suburbia that stretched across developed nations. Now, a major highway runs by Site-17. Real estate developers build up the swamp surrounding Site-23.</p> <p>This site is only 3 miles away from a middle school.</p> <hr/> <p>I have just armed an atomic bomb.</p> <p>The small plastic cover for the final detonation button lifts. It's small, and it's red, and it's flashing.</p> <p>I place my thumb over the button.</p> <hr/> <p>"Hey, do you really think you could do it?"</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>"… how?"</p> <p>"Oh don't give me that look. I'm not gonna act like it's some noble decision. I just, like we have a job to do, right? We're here to protect normalcy. I'm going to fucking do that. And besides— I know I'm a piece of shit for this, but if I'm going down there, I know I'm not coming back up. So it's not like I'm going to have to live with the guilt."</p> <hr/> <p>I recently visited Hiroshima as part of a trip I took with my family to Japan. Of course, we visited the A-Bomb museum. It was a very well constructed museum. A lot of museums are just a collection of exhibits, antiques and plaques. Sometimes an individual exhibit will have a sense of a through line but usually it doesn't feel like it's trying to tell a story. This museum, though, it told a story. It painted a very vivid picture of the devastation of the atomic bomb. It made really stunning usage of testimonials from survivors and the families of the dead, of pictures taken during and after the bombing, and a lot of other media.</p> <p>You first enter this long, dark passageway, that has these frosted windows. But you can't see through them. They're completely opaque and shine this dull blue color, which dimly lights the whole museum.</p> <p>Then come the paintings of the victims, each horrible in their own way. Not because of excruciating detail, but rather the lack thereof. How red blotches depicted boils, or groups of thin red and grey lines represented how the threads of torn clothes had entangled with flesh. All of this next to actual pictures of burn victims with ulcers on their tongues and charred skin across their backs.</p> <p>It's at this point I realized how many parents were taking their children to see the museum. So many little Japanese boys and girls looking at carnage I hadn't seen until I was at least twice their age. I guess it's never too early to be taught the horrors of war.</p> <p>After the paintings, we walked through a hall lined with pictures of children killed in the explosion, paired with a pair of gloves, or maybe a watch that they owned. All of these belongings donated by grieving families who left small accounts of how they learned their children had died.</p> <p>This led to the stories of the radiation poisoning victims. All of the families that had to watch their loved ones atrophy and decay, until their body couldn't hold out any longer.</p> <p>That is the final stretch before we exited the main wing of the museum, but we didn't empty out into a main lobby or some sort of foyer. Instead, we turned the corner into a hallway that runs backward along the main exhibit. Finally, we can see outside, through a glass wall that runs the length of the exhibit hall. There's a point where everyone stops and looks out the window for a moment, along the various peace memorials lined up along the courtyard… through a hole in the tree line, to see this:</p> <hr/> <p>Let's run some quick numbers. The on-site nuclear warhead is about 9 megatons. This means that anything within 1.2 miles will be evaporated upon detonation. And then radiation will spread for about 2 miles. And then on top of that, thermal radiation will burn civilians within 16.8 miles. Even for a site built in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, that is going to instantly kill 13,000 people, low ball. Then it will create burn victims and douse radiation on another 50,000 people, low ball.</p> <p>And then that's not even accounting for the wind taking the fallout and spreading it out across the crops and fields nearby. Or the number of rescue workers who might fall ill cleaning up in the aftermath.</p> <p>It doesn't even factor in the true aftermath.</p> <hr/> <blockquote> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Post-Nuclear Warhead Detonation Protocol</span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>There are two scenarios that will occur when an on-site nuclear warhead is detonated. First, the detonation occurs sufficiently far away from civilians that there are minimal spectators/victims. In this case, amnestics are administered as per nominal protocol, and communications are coordinated with the government of the respective nation to announce that the explosion was part of a test of their nuclear warhead supply.</p> <p>Second, the detonation occurs within proximity of a civilian population center. In this case, the first and foremost priority is to maintain secrecy of the Foundation, and the anomalous. This means that the cause of the explosion must be levied on a highly probable target. This could be almost any nuclear super power, such as the United States, Russia, China, etc.</p> <p>After a culprit has been named, Foundation personnel embedded in the involved governments are to advocate for peaceful resolutions; however, it is acknowledged that the likelihood of mutual annihilation is very high. Furthermore, in the case of more unstable governments, the resultant nuclear fallout may increase to a global scale. Should this occur, Foundation Sites are to follow the proper XK-End-of-the-World Scenario procedures, including the arming and detonation of their respective nuclear warheads.</p> <p>Remember, if the light illuminates things that we must not see, then all of humanity must die in the dark. It would be a regrettable path, but we would be successful in our mission. A world of fire and brimstone is well within normalcy.</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <p>I am standing on top of a nuclear bomb.</p> <p>My thumb quivers.</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-nuclear-option">The Nuclear Option</a>" by Captain Kirby, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-nuclear-option">https://scpwiki.com/the-nuclear-option</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> abomb-dome-small.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/captain-kirby" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3440103); return false;"><img alt="Captain Kirby" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3440103&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1731209071" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3440103)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/captain-kirby" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3440103); return false;">Captain Kirby</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-nuclear-option">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Radiation warning symbol2.svg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Radiation warning symbol2.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> N/A<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plik:Radiation_warning_symbol2.svg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/info:start">info:start</a>]] The Nuclear Option > What happens after the big red button. Author: [[user Captain Kirby]] [[=]] +++++ SCPs [[/=]] [[module ListPages created_by="Captain Kirby" order="rating desc" separate="no" tags="scp" perPage="250" prependLine="\|\|~ SCP Number \|\|~ Rating \|\|"]] \|\| %%title_linked%% \|\| %%rating%% \|\| [[/module]] [[=]] +++++ Tales [[/=]] [[module ListPages created_by="Captain Kirby" order="rating desc" separate="no" tags="tale" perPage="250" prependLine="\|\|~ Title \|\|~ Rating \|\|"]] \|\| %%title_linked%% \|\| %%rating%% \|\| [[/module]] [[=]] +++++ GOI Formats [[/=]] [[module ListPages created_by="Captain Kirby" order="rating desc" separate="no" tags="goi-format" perPage="250" prependLine="\|\|~ Title \|\|~ Rating \|\|"]] \|\| %%title_linked%% \|\| %%rating%% \|\| [[/module]] [[include <a href="/info:more">info:more</a>]] ++++ You may also like: [[[Pila]]]* by [[User TroyL]] > SCP-9999: A Gun [[[SCP-3000-EX]]]* by [[User psul]] > The murder trial of the "Arlington Cannibal" was thrown out of court yesterday, when the District Attorney's case collapsed in spectacular fashion. [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] "You are standing on top of an atomic bomb." No one at orientation believed the Director, they never do. We all just chuckled and waited for him to shoot us a playful smile. But light laughter turned to silence, and his face never changed. "You are standing on top of an atomic bomb, and one day, you might have to detonate it." By the end of that orientation, after hearing the emergency procedures and protocols for activating a nuclear warhead, I comprehended this fact. But I never understood it. Not as the klaxons blared, and the emergency lights flooded the walls of the site in a deep red. Not as I heard the ripping of metal and the screams from the floors above me. Not as I looked into the fading eyes of the Director. His hand, bloodied and broken, places an envelope in mine. It's labeled "authorization codes". I can feel a key inside of it. "You are standing on top of an atomic bomb," he sputters. His body falls limp. He is dead. ------ > [[=]] > [[=image Radiation_warning_symbol2.svg.png]] > __On-Site Nuclear Warhead Protocol__ > [[/=]] > ------ > > All major Foundation sites are to be outfitted with an on-site nuclear warhead. In the case of a major containment breach, where it is believed that anomalies will make mass, and unrecoverable, contact with a baseline human populace, this warhead is to be detonated to ensure the continued success of the Foundation's mission. > > Each warhead is outfitted with remote detonation capabilities, and, given the proper authorization codes, can be activated at any major Foundation site. However, due to the possibility of communicational interference that could be caused by a containment breach, all warheads may also be activated manually, and on-site. If a warhead is detonated in this manner, it is assumed that the site was under a severe and otherwise irrecoverable containment breach, and thus, there will be no countdown. > > The decision to detonate the nuclear warhead must be unanimous among the following individuals: > > 1. The Site Director, who has the requisite information regarding the site to determine the likelihood. > > 2. The Lead On-Site Containment Specialist, who can assess the severity of the breach in question. > > 3. At least 3 O5 Council Members > > --4. The member of the on-site detonation team responsible for the operation of the nuclear warhead-- ------ I sprint down the stairwell, practically leaping down flights of stairs. Into the breach, deeper deeper. I overestimate my power and tumble face first into a wall, but the pain is numbing and I just keep going. Deeper deeper. The outlines of monsters play out through the windowed doors. Each floor is home to new amalgams of shadows and silhouettes that my brain was better off failing to comprehend. This is what they warned us about. This is what happens when things go bad. Finally I hit the bottom of the stairwell. I open the envelope and unfurl a slip of paper inside. I punch the first passcode into the door. I can barely read it through the blotches of blood. The door clicks. I burst my way inside to the only room that has been untouched by the catastrophe. It feels like a scene out of a 1980s sci-fi movie, with analog control panels and CRT monitors. The surfaces are coated in dust and the corners are colonized by spiderwebs. I can feel my hands shaking. I take a deep breath. ------ "Doesn't it bother you?" "Doesn't what bother me?" "You know... the thought that any moment, you might just evaporate in a blast of fire and radiation?" "Because I work here?" "Well, yeah. We are standing on top of an atomic bomb." "I just don't think working here is any different from waiting tables in that respect." "Do I have to repeat the thing about the atomic bomb under the floorboards?" "Jerry, ultimately the question isn't about the distance to the bomb, right? The question is about the existential dread. The fear of being the next Chernobyl. And while that has its own sense of fear... the end result is not that different from a city on the coast becoming the next Hiroshima. The only difference is whether the blast is coming from below or above. But it's all the same. It's all the same fire. It's all the same ash. Same radiation poisoning." "And you're just OK with that?" "We've been living at the other end of a gun called 'The Nuclear Bomb' since the mid 1940s. Just because you finally realized that, doesn't change the fact that we don't have much choice //but// to be OK with it." "... I'm not sure I can accept that." "Then run for fucking President, Jerry. Join a disarmament movement. But you're not going to fix that problem working for the Foundation." ------ The site directors and the overseers talk a big game about how difficult their job is. How hard it is to make the decisions they do. They have had to sacrifice so much to maintain normalcy, and they can feel the weight of each and every life on their shoulders. Atlases, the lot of them. They tell us this from behind their nice fancy desk, in their office lined with mahogany bookshelves and diamond chandeliers. Or from behind a screen half-way across the world. Where they then lean back and feel the weight... of the little number in their spreadsheet going up and down. They aren't the ones turning the key. They aren't the ones pushing the button. They aren't the ones making the decision. I feel the weight of the brass in my palm. It's sapped the heat from my hand and now feels like an extension of my fingers. I shove it inside the control panel, which blinks and whirs to life. ------ The Foundation started putting atomic bombs in their sites ever since Oppenheimer blew one up in New Mexico. Even as the Foundation expanded in the 60s and 70s, building up the massive Site-17, Site-19, Site-43, Site-120, the nuclear warhead remained a fixture of the architectural layouts. And they weren't careless about the placement of the sites either. They were remote, so far away that only a few thousand people would even see the smoke. But that was fifty years ago. And nobody properly understood the scope of urban sprawl. The winding tendrils of suburbia that stretched across developed nations. Now, a major highway runs by Site-17. Real estate developers build up the swamp surrounding Site-23. This site is only 3 miles away from a middle school. ------ I have just armed an atomic bomb. The small plastic cover for the final detonation button lifts. It's small, and it's red, and it's flashing. I place my thumb over the button. ------ "Hey, do you really think you could do it?" "Yeah." "... how?" "Oh don't give me that look. I'm not gonna act like it's some noble decision. I just, like we have a job to do, right? We're here to protect normalcy. I'm going to fucking do that. And besides— I know I'm a piece of shit for this, but if I'm going down there, I know I'm not coming back up. So it's not like I'm going to have to live with the guilt." ------ I recently visited Hiroshima as part of a trip I took with my family to Japan. Of course, we visited the A-Bomb museum. It was a very well constructed museum. A lot of museums are just a collection of exhibits, antiques and plaques. Sometimes an individual exhibit will have a sense of a through line but usually it doesn't feel like it's trying to tell a story. This museum, though, it told a story. It painted a very vivid picture of the devastation of the atomic bomb. It made really stunning usage of testimonials from survivors and the families of the dead, of pictures taken during and after the bombing, and a lot of other media. You first enter this long, dark passageway, that has these frosted windows. But you can't see through them. They're completely opaque and shine this dull blue color, which dimly lights the whole museum. Then come the paintings of the victims, each horrible in their own way. Not because of excruciating detail, but rather the lack thereof. How red blotches depicted boils, or groups of thin red and grey lines represented how the threads of torn clothes had entangled with flesh. All of this next to actual pictures of burn victims with ulcers on their tongues and charred skin across their backs. It's at this point I realized how many parents were taking their children to see the museum. So many little Japanese boys and girls looking at carnage I hadn't seen until I was at least twice their age. I guess it's never too early to be taught the horrors of war. After the paintings, we walked through a hall lined with pictures of children killed in the explosion, paired with a pair of gloves, or maybe a watch that they owned. All of these belongings donated by grieving families who left small accounts of how they learned their children had died. This led to the stories of the radiation poisoning victims. All of the families that had to watch their loved ones atrophy and decay, until their body couldn't hold out any longer. That is the final stretch before we exited the main wing of the museum, but we didn't empty out into a main lobby or some sort of foyer. Instead, we turned the corner into a hallway that runs backward along the main exhibit. Finally, we can see outside, through a glass wall that runs the length of the exhibit hall. There's a point where everyone stops and looks out the window for a moment, along the various peace memorials lined up along the courtyard... through a hole in the tree line, to see this: [[=image abomb-dome-small.jpg]] ------ Let's run some quick numbers. The on-site nuclear warhead is about 9 megatons. This means that anything within 1.2 miles will be evaporated upon detonation. And then radiation will spread for about 2 miles. And then on top of that, thermal radiation will burn civilians within 16.8 miles. Even for a site built in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, that is going to instantly kill 13,000 people, low ball. Then it will create burn victims and douse radiation on another 50,000 people, low ball. And then that's not even accounting for the wind taking the fallout and spreading it out across the crops and fields nearby. Or the number of rescue workers who might fall ill cleaning up in the aftermath. It doesn't even factor in the true aftermath. ------ > [[=]] > [[=image Radiation_warning_symbol2.svg.png]] > __Post-Nuclear Warhead Detonation Protocol__ > [[/=]] > > -------- > > There are two scenarios that will occur when an on-site nuclear warhead is detonated. First, the detonation occurs sufficiently far away from civilians that there are minimal spectators/victims. In this case, amnestics are administered as per nominal protocol, and communications are coordinated with the government of the respective nation to announce that the explosion was part of a test of their nuclear warhead supply. > > Second, the detonation occurs within proximity of a civilian population center. In this case, the first and foremost priority is to maintain secrecy of the Foundation, and the anomalous. This means that the cause of the explosion must be levied on a highly probable target. This could be almost any nuclear super power, such as the United States, Russia, China, etc. > > After a culprit has been named, Foundation personnel embedded in the involved governments are to advocate for peaceful resolutions; however, it is acknowledged that the likelihood of mutual annihilation is very high. Furthermore, in the case of more unstable governments, the resultant nuclear fallout may increase to a global scale. Should this occur, Foundation Sites are to follow the proper XK-End-of-the-World Scenario procedures, including the arming and detonation of their respective nuclear warheads. > > Remember, if the light illuminates things that we must not see, then all of humanity must die in the dark. It would be a regrettable path, but we would be successful in our mission. A world of fire and brimstone is well within normalcy. ------ I am standing on top of a nuclear bomb. My thumb quivers. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* abomb-dome-small.jpg > Author: [[user Captain Kirby]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-nuclear-option SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Radiation warning symbol2.svg > Name: Radiation warning symbol2.svg > Author: N/A > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plik:Radiation_warning_symbol2.svg Wikimedia Commons] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-03T16:26:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "apocalyptic", "bleak", "coldpostcon", "first-person", "horror", "prize-feature", "psychological-horror", "tale" ]	The Nuclear Option - SCP Foundation	549	[ "scp-3393", "captain-kirby-s-proposal", "scp-4514", "scp-3448", "scp-5552", "scp-3844", "scp-3388", "scp-3866", "scp-5003", "scp-3305", "scp-3449", "scp-4877", "scp-4321", "scp-016-j", "scp-7100", "scp-3123", "scp-3393-ex", "spc-1057-j", "scp-3511", "scp-6007", "scp-3633", "scp-4925", "scp-4479", "scp-3767", "scp-4316", "scp-4775", "scp-4034", "scp-5877", "scp-5448", "scp-3650", "scp-3203", "scp-5779", "scp-3405", "scp-3481", "impossible-to-destroy-reptile", "in-the-clutches-of-life", "numbers-never-die", "the-tombstone-of-alto-clef", "the-foundation-wants-a-robot-army", "societal-census-programme", "with-the-reaper-on-retirement", "do-you-remember-funerals", "from-the-clutches-of-life", "where-death-used-to-live", "project-damn-oh-fuck", "hello-my-name-isnt", "dont-get-used-to-it", "the-many-portraits-of-jack-bright", "group-date", "monochrome", "hundred-year-favor", "the-most-masked-of-men", "you-have-18-unread-messages", "everyday-is-somebodys-birthday", "the-shape-of-a-noose", "a-failed-two-weeks-notice", "pink-cracks-in-a-digital-wall", "until-death-do-us-part", "rocks-and-trees-are-not-good-company", "tears-of-a-neon-god", "poky-and-pal-scheme-together", "a-eulogy-in-eleven-eight-time", "carnivores", "is-anybody-home", "poky-and-pal-arm-themselves", "virtue", "when-it-rains-it-pours", "god-knows-where", "numb", "it-s-a-nice-day-out", "attempts-to-salvage-thought", "i-am-wonderful", "outrun", "they-are-laughing-at-you", "what-is-there-to-do-with-a-pot-of-gold", "life-and-death-of-site-78", "captain-kirby-s-holistic-proposal", "my-head-is-on-fire-and-im-not-ok", "project-proposal-2004-013-2014-114-2024-072", "pila", "scp-3000-ex", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "top-rated-tales", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "featured-tale-archive-ii", "coldpostcon", "contest-archive" ]	[]	1445382883	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-nuclear-option
the-part-where-things-happen-and-we-don-t-worry-about-it	<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%3Acalamity/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p>The rainfall came suddenly, as it so often does, and Jalick had forgotten to bring his anti-rain shield generator before he got blasted off the roof a few days ago. He'd tried his best to stay underneath the Omni-Bot's giant arms as they walked across the floral expanse to the next town, but more than enough rain water had pelted his metallic frame that his gears were crying rust. The servos in his joints were threatening to stop working altogether until Jalick found oil or recited an old, forbidden technomancy.</p> <p>Not for the first time, he contemplated summoning the spirit of an old Amerikhan oil baron to spit on him. He recounted the legends his motherboard used to tell him about the Amerikhan Way before the Calamity, when people dug deep tunnels into the planet to hunt and consume oil, as well as anyone that got in their way. The Amerikhans bathed in the stuff, made love with the stuff, went to war for the stuff, and died for the stuff. Surely the legends had some validity to them.</p> <p>But then again, the Amerikhan people were notoriously rude. Jalick didn't have the time nor patience to deal with some primadonna oil baron even if that oil baron could grease his gears. He sighed, his mechanical voice drowned out by the downpour, and continued walking. He'd hoped that if they never stopped he'd never lock up.</p> <p>It took exactly fifteen steps before Jalick's right knee joint stopped turning and he fell on his face.</p> <p>"Bloody hell, Jalick," Sophia Light's raspy voice called out with an annoying level of concern, "are you alright?"</p> <p>Jalick shook the mud off his face and tried to stand. His hands were sinking in the mud, faster than he would have liked. A strong gust of wind blew up in his face from beneath him, rocketing him upward until he was standing straight again. Jalick squinted as he tracked Venti, who, for once, didn't have a shit-eating grin on their face.</p> <p>It wasn't like them to be helpful.</p> <p>"I'm fine," Jalick said, wiping the mud off his legs, "Can we get a move on, please. I think I'm startin' to rust."</p> <p>The Omni-Bot turned its massive head in his direction, optics flickering between orange and white.</p> <p>"Protect." Its monotone voice chimed.</p> <p>Jalick threw his hands up, "Not you too. Come on now, it's just a little rust!"</p> <p>"Protect," The Omni-Bot repeated before turning its attention to the dark, swirling clouds above them.</p> <p>Jalick didn't get another word out before he noticed particles starting to appear in front of the Omni-Bot's optics. Then the air started getting hotter and hotter and hotter until…</p> <p>ZAAAAAAP.</p> <p>The force of the light blue energy beam almost sent Jalick back into the mud -— and it would have too if Venti hadn't kept him upright. The beam fired continuously from the Omni-Bot for only a few seconds as it rotated its head in a complete circle, parting the clouds as the energy swept through them like a hot knife through butter. The rain stopped for a moment as the clouds began to reform once the Omni-Bot finished its rampage.</p> <p>The giant machine looked down at Jalick. Its optics were light blue, and it was shrugging its shoulders rhythmically.</p> <p>"Secure. Secure. Secure."</p> <p>Sophia pat the giant machine's leg, "It's okay big guy, you did your best."</p> <p>"Contain," the Omni-Bot replied before scooping Jalick up in its hands and covering him like a present.</p> <p>Jalick tried to bang on the metal cage he'd found himself in, but the servos in his arms refused to move through the rust. He exclaimed something that Sophia couldn't hear, then let out a loud sigh that she <em>could</em> hear, and stopped moving. Sophia looked up at the Omni-Bot, who looked down at her with green optics. She offered a smile and a shrug.</p> <p>"Where are we going?" Jalick shouted, finally loud enough for Sophia to hear.</p> <p>"Deathtown. We'll be safe there, at least until the storm's over."</p> <p>The Omni-Bot nodded and continued walking. Sophia felt a gentle gust of wind blow through her back and out of her chest, startling her and leaving her gasping. Venti snickered. Sophia put her hands on her hips and glared at them.</p> <p>"Don't do that."</p> <p>Venti stopped chuckling to themselves and moved around Sophia in a loose circle. They coiled up and around the Omni-Bot's leg, then its body, before resting near its closed hands. They hovered near one of the Omni-Bot's fingers, where Jalick's hand still poked out a bit. The wind spirit flew in a figure eight around the Omni-Bot's hands, carrying leaves and flowers with them the entire time.</p> <p>A lightbulb clicked in Sophia's head, "Oh. You're worried about Jalick. Trust me, I get it. It's hard seeing your friends in pain. There's a Mekhanic in Deathtown that specializes in this sort of thing. Jalick's gonna be fine."</p> <p>That seemed to calm the wind spirit down some, as they had vanished from Sophia's line of sight. She still felt their presence, even if they weren't carrying debris with them as a visual aid. She wondered how much of what she said was true though. There was <em>indeed</em> a Mekhanic in Deathtown, and he <em>did</em> specialize in fixing Unhumans up, but she wasn't sure how versed he was at repairing machines. The human body, regardless of the decomposition, was at the very least consistent; you can always find an arm or eye or pelvis in roughly the same place every time. Did mechs abide by the same law of evolution?</p> <p>For Jalick's sake, Sophia hoped so.</p> <p>It was noon the next day when they reached the outer wall of Deathtown. The marble pillars had been collapsed and rebuilt a thousand times in the years following the Calamity, and if you looked closely enough, you'd see the rusted metal patches that were welded onto them years ago. You'd also see lines upon lines of silk that actually did the job the metal patches were supposed to do, but successfully. A few wriggling Skamps struggled to break free from their silky entrapment, but two Prometheans armed with rotten, sharpened bone-spears stabbed into the Skamps' underbelly. The large reptiles shrieked and flailed wildly before going limp.</p> <p>The Prometheans cut the Skamps down and repaired the web by hand before dragging the still-bleeding bodies inside. Sophia sighed. Venti manifested in front of her, this time as a circular swirling pile of dead skin flakes, and hovered in place.</p> <p>"Don't worry about that," Sophia said, "S'just a thing that happens. You're fine."</p> <p>The wind spirit flew in a circle in front of her.</p> <p>"Look, the big guy can't go inside anyway." She pointed to the door amidst the mess of pillars, rock, and web, "See? The door's too small. If you're that worried about being around Prometheans, first of all — stop being racist, and second, stay out here with the Omni-Bot."</p> <p>The skin flakes surrounding Venti suddenly fell to the ground.</p> <p>"Wait," Sophia paused, "You're intangible. What are you even worried about?"</p> <p>There was no answer.</p> <p>She asked again, "Hello? What are you— ah fuck it."</p> <p>Sophia walked toward the half-broken, half-repaired entrance to Deathtown. She gave the Promethean standing guard a nod, and he grunted back. As she stepped over the cracked and crumbled floor, Sophia took a deep breath. The musty, moldy, decrepit air reminded Sophia of those first nights she had after the Calamity. The rotflies, feculent winged bugs the size of watermelons but nowhere near as sweet-smelling, crashed and buzzed around the Prometheans, salivating. Sophia swatted a rotfly away as she continued to walk through the long streets of Deathtown. She had no intention of getting into yet another fight over the ownership of her limbs.</p> <p>To her right, a Promethean flung open her door, wielding a spear made of bone as she chased rotflies out of her house. The three severed heads at the spear's end were chanting something in unison; <em>Bafinada. Bafinada. BAFINADA.</em> (Spider-tongue for "Get out.") Sophia's face lit up at the sight of these four Prometheans (or one point three Prometheans to be more accurate.) The one with most of her body intact smiled, and waved the other three around as Sophia walked over to them.</p> <p>"Well if it ain't Sophia H. Light!" The Promethean all but shouted.</p> <p>"Aunt Coco!"</p> <p>Aunt Coco wasn't actually Sophia's aunt, but that's the only name she and everyone else in Deathtown called her. She was a short and plump Promethean, despite most of her midsection being gone. She wore a dress made of her old skin, and although it had faded over the years, Sophia could still see the stretched-out human faces woven into it. Although the sinew and muscles around her jaw had long since fallen off, Aunt Coco's warm smile never ceased to comfort Sophia.</p> <p>As the pair embraced, a dozen tiny spiders crawled out of Aunt Coco's back and onto Sophia's arms and chest. The spiders nipped at her exposed skin for a few seconds before growing bored and leaving her to consume a dead rotfly carcass just outside the door. Sophia smiled. She didn't realize how much she missed Aunt Coco's pets.</p> <p>"Well don't just stand there like an awkward teenager, come in!"</p> <p>Sophia followed Aunt Coco into her house, which was more decorated since the last time she visited. The floor was still made out of cracked marble, but now there was an old rug with an intricate pattern over it. The mildew gave the air in Aunt Coco's house an oddly nostalgic scent, like what Sophia remembered just after she woke up for the first time. There were three sets of rotting limbs sat in the corner, collecting flies, dust, and nursing spider eggs. The couch was made of old bones and coagulated fat, lined all in that same casing sausage meat is packed in. Still comfortable to sit in.</p> <p>Aunt Coco set the three-headed spear next to Sophia and walked into another room, "You kids catch up while I put on a pot of tea!"</p> <p>Sophia waved a quick "thank you" to Aunt Coco before she rounded the corner, then she turned her attention to the spear. The two of the three Prometheans looked at her, smiling as if they'd just seen a newborn puppy. The other one struggled in place, trying in vain to turn around.</p> <p>"Sophie!" The two heads facing her shouted in unison.</p> <p>"Apex, Axel, Altus! You guys are looking… great!"</p> <p>Sophia went in for a hug but didn't know what exactly to wrap her arms around. She thought about hugging the shaft, but that wasn't exactly hugging <em>them</em>. Or was it? Were the four femurs stacked on top of one another their body now, or was it just prosthetic? She tried to wrap her arms around all three of their heads but stopped herself.</p> <p>"I… I don't know how to hug you anymore." She admitted.</p> <p>Apex, the head with a buzzcut and missing eyeball, said, "It's alright. The rot was getting to us, really badly. Nestfather couldn't even do anything for us after a while. The skin wasn't tight enough, and our muscle fibers too worn down and decayed. That's when ma had the brilliant idea to lob our heads off and stick all three of us to this here magic femur staff."</p> <p>"SHE CALLS IT THE SHUNTER." Altus yelled.</p> <p>Axel chimed in, "Ya shoulda seen it, Sophie. One day I was sleeping in my own bed, filing my fingertips inta knives for cuttin' 'n stabbin' 'n shit, an' the next mornin' I'm light as a feather. Ya know, for a hot minute there I thought it was 'cause of my exercise regimen."</p> <p>Sophia raised an eyebrow, "You have an exercise regimen?"</p> <p>Axel smiled, the cracks in his lips parting even more, "I <em>did</em>. An' it was GREAT."</p> <p>The third head thrashed around and screamed, "SOPHIA I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE. I CANNOT SEE YOU BUT I AM GLAD YOU ARE STILL ALIVE."</p> <p>Sophia rotated the staff so that Altus could make eye contact with her. Except he couldn't. The Promthean's eyes were two inky black voids that had become home to a cluster of spider eggs.</p> <p>"I AM HAPPY TO SEE YOU SOPHIE."</p> <p>Sophia chuckled, "I'm happy to see you too, Altus. How's Aunt Coco been?"</p> <p>"AWFUL. SHE IS SO SAD SINCE YOU LEFT. SHE IS HAPPY YOU HAVE RETURNED. I HAVE NOT SEEN HER SMILE LIKE THAT SINCE MY EYES FELL OUT."</p> <p>"Oh," Sophia blinked, "I uh…"</p> <p>Aunt Coco returned, carrying a steaming cup of embalming tea that she stirred with a bony finger. She blew on it before handing it to Sophia with a smile and sitting on the couch next to her.</p> <p>"Sorry about leaving you alone with these knuckleheads for so long, sweetheart," She grabbed the staff and leaned it against the wall. Apex and Axel let out a soft gasp.</p> <p>"WHAT IS HAPPENING?"</p> <p>Aunt Coco shushed the heads then turned her attention back to Sophia, "How've you been? Was the outside world as great as you hoped it would be?"</p> <p>Sophia took a sip from her cup, "Uh, yeah. Sure."</p> <p>"Did you ever see <em>Her</em> again? Did you take the fight to that terrible, terrible creature like you always wanted to?"</p> <p>She took a long sip from her cup and didn't say anything.</p> <p>"Ah, I see. Well, we can't all achieve everything we set out for, right?"</p> <p>"I CAN MOTHER."</p> <p>"Shut up, Altus," Axel's muffled voice called out.</p> <p>"So what <em>have</em> you been up to, deary. You can tell me anything, you know."</p> <p>Sophia shrugged her shoulders, "Well, I've been getting really into gardening."</p> <p>Aunt Coco's eyes widened, "Gardening?"</p> <p>"Yeah, and I have a death machine that looks out for me. I call it the Omni-Bot."</p> <p>Aunt Coco clapped her hands and squealed, her hoarse voice rattling the bones in her throat. She shot up from her seat and went back into the kitchen. Sophia heard pots and pans crashing around, Aunt Coco cursed under her breath, and then in the next moment, she was back on the couch with a wilted plant in her hands.</p> <p>"Can you do anything to save him?"</p> <p>Sophia set her cup down and examined the plant. The stalk was dried and cracked, the flower petals all the wrong shade of brown, and the roots growing through the pot were gnarled and twisted in unnatural ways. Clearly whatever Aunt Coco did to this poor plant was worse than death.</p> <p>"Uh…" Sophia offered a weak smile, "I don't think so, Aunt Coco. This looks, well, not the best. Maybe it needs some amino acids or something."</p> <p>"Oh drat." Aunt Coco took the plant from Sophia and threw it out the window.</p> <p>"WAS THAT MY GERMANIUM?"</p> <p>"No, sweetheart. I just swatted a rotfly with one of the old ceramic pots."</p> <p>"WAS IT THE ONE THAT I WAS GROWING MY GERMANIUM IN?"</p> <p>"No, Altus."</p> <p>"OKAY. I REALLY LIKED THAT GERMANIUM. I WOULD HATE TO SEE IT DIE."</p> <p>Aunt Coco sighed, whispering to Sophia, "I fucking <em>hated</em> that plant. It was dreadful, truly bringing down the place. Not like you, of course. You really bring the "death" to Deathtown. Nestfather is going to be so excited to see you again. It's been what, ten, twenty years?"</p> <p>"Twenty-three," Sophia corrected.</p> <p>"My, my. Twenty-three years and you've hardly decayed a day. Don't let me keep you, deary. Go and see Nestfather!"</p> <p>"I'm not so sure he'd be happy to see me."</p> <p>"Why not? It's not like you broke his heart or anything like that, right?"</p> <p>"Well…"</p> <p>Aunt Coco pouted. "Don't you worry about it. Sad as he might have been, and I suspect he's been quite sad cooped up down there in that chamber of his, I'm sure all that will just… disappear once he's seen you. Go on. I'll make you a cup of tea for the walk."</p> <p>"Thanks, Aunt Coco. You mind if I hang back here for a little while? My legs kind of hurt."</p> <p>"Of course not. Stay as long as you like.</p> <p>Sophia waited a few more minutes for Aunt Coco to bring her another cup of tea. She sat on the couch, taking small sips of the drink as infrequently as she could without looking too suspicious. A few of the eggs inside of Altus's head finally hatched, unleashing a newly born legion of spiders all over the floor. Altus gave a close approximation to a laugh while Axel and Apex groaned. Sophia wasn't sure why they were so upset. It's not like <em>they</em> stormed out of Deathtown twenty-three years ago and never once visited.</p> <p>After some hours passed, Sophia waved her goodbyes and left, walking deeper into Deathtown with a bit more pep in her step. Aunt Coco had a weird way of making her feel better, even when things were particularly dire.</p> <p>The buildings in Deathtown were carved into the walls of the mountain's guts, with amber lights shining through the windows of the rock and clay infrastructure. Loose cables hung lazily between the buildings, pulsing with light blue energy. On the building walls, where the cables ran inside, clusters of Thundercaps lay waiting in ambush. Each of the light grey and yellow mushrooms throbbed up and down as waves of energy passed near them. Sophia groaned as she heard the staticky (yet somehow wet) sound of energy being siphoned off the line by the mycelium.</p> <p>Thankfully there were Prometheans armed with long spears and determination around to cut them down. The hacked-off Thundercaps found themselves in a cart on a long line of carts being pulled by a stag beetle, the only insect down here that had no interest in consuming Prometheans or their parts. The cart was about the size of a pre-Calamity train car, and it shook the ground like one too. Sophia shook her head as she saw the contents of the other carts passing by; Promethean arms and legs, a few torsos, dead rotfly parts, and the severed head of Wisteria yapping away like there was no tomorrow.</p> <p>"—and so of course the flux capacitor wouldn't work. The idiot was using sub-optimal theoretical quantum super mechanics instead of Post-Calamity proven tenth-circle occultic hyper dimensions to power the warp drive. I mean come <em>ON</em>. Ever since Sophia left it's like I'm the only one around here with the lights on upstairs."</p> <p>The head next to Wisteria, who Sophia didn't recognize, rolled his eyes, "Ohmygodwillyoupleaseshutup."</p> <p>"I'm just saying," Wisteria continued, "if the house always wins, then why is the centipede stuck in a hyperdimension?"</p> <p>"Ohmygod."</p> <p>Sophia decided to give the other head mercy and scooped Wisteria from their place in the cart. She tucked their head under her arm and followed the train-car on foot, keeping pace with it as it slowly churned its way downhill into the depths of Deathtown.</p> <p>"Glad to see you're still a menace to society at large, Tala." Sophia said, shaking her head.</p> <p>The head responded, "Somebody's gotta be. It's lonely around here. I feel like no one really understands science, not like you and I. Every conversation doesn't do anything for me. It's hard, like tungsten. Or iron. Or corium. Or like trying to open a portal into a hyperdimension to save a close friend while your body is falling apart at the seams. You know what I'm saying?"</p> <p>"Yeah, that sounds rough," Sophia chuckled, "What are you doing messing around with fifth-dimensional mathematics and metamaterials anyway? I thought you gave that up after what happened to Charles."</p> <p>"Feh," Wisteria scoffed, "You and I both know that was an accident."</p> <p>"Nestfather didn't seem to think so."</p> <p>"<em>Nestfather</em> wasn't there. He's not omniscient you know."</p> <p>"You've certainly adjusted quite well."</p> <p>"Hey, explorations into higher dimensions can't all be winners. Sometimes you come back fine, other times you get disintegrated and have to be reassembled molecule by molecule over a few weeks by a very dedicated and beautiful scientist. I've lost sleep over this, you know."</p> <p>Sophia rolled her eyes, "That's not the only thing you've lost apparently."</p> <p>Wisteria stuck their tongue out, "If only there was <em>someone</em> around here to help me."</p> <p>The words hung in the dank air longer than Sophia felt comfortable with. She still remembered the day that she left Deathtown a few years ago after a heated dispute with Nestfather. There was a lot of yelling and screaming on her part, all while the patient Nestfather sat in his webs, spinning his arms in smooth, methodical patterns, listening to her. When he didn't give her the answers she was looking for, Sophia stormed out of the den and Deathtown altogether, not even bothering to say good-bye to anyone on her way out. She was angry about a lot of things for a long time, but even after she calmed down she couldn't bear the thought of coming back to face Nestfather again. It would have been too awkward and too embarrassing.</p> <p>"How's Nestfather been?" Sophia asked, "I hear he's not doing so well."</p> <p>"Who told you that?" Wisteria asked, eyebrow raised.</p> <p>"Aunt Coco."</p> <p>"Ah, so it must be true then."</p> <p>"What must be true?"</p> <p>"Well, Nestfather's been a bit of a wreck. Haven't seen him prowling around the corridors in damn near thirty years. Hasn't been the same since you left, honestly. I only see him when I'm, as you can see, in a bit of a bind. But I think you being back is just the pick-me-up he needed!"</p> <p>Sophia swallowed the thought and reminded herself why she was back. Jalick needed help, and Nestfather was his best chance at recovery. Assuming that he wasn't too far gone already and Nestfather wasn't holding a grudge.</p> <p>Sophia didn't say anything until the train came to a stop outside of a door made of webs. Dozens of three-foot-tall spiders emerged from behind the webs and descended upon the train carts. They examined the body parts inside, much to the chagrin of the collection of heads among the pile. The spiders worked quickly taking the parts into a hole in the ceiling. One of them approached Sophia with two arms outstretched while another limb pointed at Wisteria's head.</p> <p>"Hagimas geo?" The spider said.</p> <p>Wisteria looked at Sophia and winked, and then they were in the spider's hands being carried into the ceiling.</p> <p>"See you on the other side!" They shouted.</p> <p>Sophia swallowed and looked at the web-door. On the other side, she could make out the silhouette of Nestfather reaching upward and maneuvering his limbs with the precision and care that she'd come to expect from him. She reached a hand out to move the webs apart but hesitated. She left her hand there, a few inches from parting the webs, for a while. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, and the hole where her heart once was started to hurt.</p> <p><em>What am I going to say? He probably hates me. He's going to take my body apart and eat me for lunch. He'll never forgive me. How can he, I was such a-</em></p> <p>"Come in, Sophia," Nestfather's booming voice echoed from inside the room.</p> <p>Sophia gulped, parted the webs, and headed inside.</p> <p>Nestfather's chambers were exactly the way she remembered them; sticky and cold. Cobwebs and piles of bones were littered all over the floor. Stalagmites and stalactites were scattered all over, meaning Sophia would have several hiding spots should Nestfather go on the offensive. Lightbulbs crackled with life above, connected to the ceiling by the same powerlines she saw before, only without the Thundercaps suckling the power for themselves.</p> <p>Nestfather himself was as big as ever, partially taking up the entirety of the back wall. He had a few more grey hairs on his body and legs than Sophia remembered, and his beard was a little longer than it was a few years ago. The wrinkles between his eyes had grown deeper, and there was more than one eye that was glossed over with cataracts. Despite that, Nestfather still carried out his work meticulously. He had a head in one of his hands while using the other limbs to sift through the pile of body parts, trying to find a match. The smaller spiders worked to separate the parts into categories; heads, legs, torsos, arms, and every combination there was.</p> <p>The head in Nestfather's hand, the same one that was being tormented by Wisteria, shouted at the smaller spiders as they moved a mostly intact body to its own pile away from the rest.</p> <p>"Hey! Careful with that!"</p> <p>The spiders carried the body to Nestfather with the grace of a whale in a television store, dumping the corpse in front of him. Nestfather scooped the body up and placed the head on the shoulders. He rotated it and spat a steady stream of silk around the cut line, stopping once the whole area was covered. Then he started stitching the head back to the neck, and the owner sighed in relief.</p> <p>"Thanks again, Nestfather," Said the repaired Promethean, "Hey Sophia."</p> <p>Sophia offered a meek wave as she walked past him to stand before Nestfather. Up close she could feel the rhythmic vibrations of his breath resonating through her body. She cleared her throat and began speaking, "Nestfather."</p> <p>"Starlight," Nestfather narrowed his eyes, "Are you in need of repair?"</p> <p>"N-no, Nestfather."</p> <p>"Are you ill?"</p> <p>"No, sir."</p> <p>"Are you in danger?"</p> <p>Sophia furrowed her brows, "Not to my knowledge, sir."</p> <p>Nestfather cleared his throat and picked up another head from the head pile, "Then what brings you back home?"</p> <p>"I… um… well… I have this friend…"</p> <p>The giant spider's eyes widened a bit, "Yes?"</p> <p>"My friend is in need of repair, sir. I thought that, well, you might be able to help him."</p> <p>"Ah, I see."</p> <p>Nestfather turned his attention to the next Promethean, turning the body over in his hands and spitting silk on the severed limbs before stitching them to the body. Sophia scratched the back of her head as she searched for the right words. Were there even right words to find?</p> <p>Nestfather had devoted his attention to the Promethean in need, averting his eyes from Sophia. She paced back and forth with her hands on her heads, running through a thousand words at once. She started to speak, thought, and stopped herself more times than she could count. Nestfather paid her no mind.</p> <p>Eventually, she decided that there was only one thing to say, "I'm sorry."</p> <p>"Oh.' Nestfather said, still not looking in her direction, "You're sorry?"</p> <p>Sophia hung her head, "I'm sorry for saying all those things to you. I know you probably hate me but… Nestfather, I need your help. My friend, Jalick, is rusting. We got caught in a rainstorm on our way here and now he can't move. I'm afraid that a Scrapper or a bandit is going to take him apart and sell his conduits on the black market and I don't know how to help him."</p> <p>Nestfather scoffed, "That sounds like a personal problem, Starlight."</p> <p>Sophia winced as he picked up Wisteria's head. The words hurt more than her resurrection did. Wisteria's smile and disconnected arm waving at her as Nestfather stitched her back together didn't help any either.</p> <p>"You're doing great, Sophia!" Wisteria cheered.</p> <p>Nestfather grunted, "I wouldn't say <em>that</em>. All things considered, Tala, your sister is doing a very poor job at making amends."</p> <p>Wisteria frowned, her recently attached shoulders slumped forward. They offered Sophia a sympathetic smile and said, "She's trying her best, Nestfather. Maybe give her a chance?"</p> <p>"What could she possibly have to say to me?"</p> <p>"You won't know until you find out, will you?"</p> <p>"I'm standing right here, guys." Sophia blurted. She covered her mouth and wished the words stayed in her throat.</p> <p>Nestfather set Wisteria loose on the ground once the stitches were done. They stretched their limbs and cracked their knuckles before offering Sophia a thumbs up and leaving. Once they were on the other side of the web wall, Nestfather sighed, the noise shaking the entire cavern. He still wouldn't look at her.</p> <p>"So you thought you would come here, stand before me, and ask for my help? After telling me that I was a 'useless god that was too scared to face <em>Her</em> when she descended upon our way of life'?"</p> <p>Right. That's what she said. When that formless, shapeless god fell from the sky and started eating Prometheans, Sophia tried to rally the survivors against it to save themselves. Nestfather had forbidden her and anyone else from taking action, and collapsed the entrance to Deathtown into the mountainside to hide from <em>Her</em>. And there they waited in the dark for hundreds of years, biding their time, eating mold and rocks to get by, slowly being picked off by Rotflies and Thundercaps and every other creature that called the mountain home. All while Nestfather did nothing but hide in this very room and try to stave off the death of the Prometheans under his watch with his silk and repairs.</p> <p>"Look," She swallowed, "I admit it was uncalled for, but you weren't doing anything to help us! And you stopped me from saving us. I hated it, hated you. I just… I couldn't stand hiding anymore. I had to take the fight to <em>Her</em>, but by the time I found the Omni-Bot, <em>She</em> was long gone."</p> <p>Nestfather said nothing and continued fixing up Prometheans and sending them on their way.</p> <p>"I know I said some hurtful things, stuff I could have avoided saying at the time. But you have to understand-"</p> <p>Suddenly Nestfather stopped. He slammed each of his limbs into the ground as he turned to face Sophia. She held her breath as her lowered his body until his massive eyes were at eye level with her.</p> <p>"I don't <em>have</em> to understand anything, Starlight."</p> <p>"Please, Nestfather, my friend-"</p> <p>"What makes you think I care about some surface-dwelling spy of <em>Her's</em>? You left me for twenty-three years. Twenty. Three. Years. Do you have any idea what it's like not knowing if your child is dead for two and a half decades? I sent scouts for you every night and they came back empty-handed. Prometheans prayed for your safe return. <em>I</em> prayed for your safe return. And where were you? Galavanting after Old World relics? Tending to flowers?"</p> <p>Sophia stuttered. Nestfather sighed and began work on another Promethean. She turned to leave, looking over her shoulder as Nestfather continued repairing Prometheans. She had nothing to say now. Everything had already been laid out on the table in front of her. But something kept her from crossing through those webs.</p> <p>"You can hate me if you want," Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, "I've been a terrible daughter to you, and you deserve so much better than me. I was stupid, and rash, and furious with you so I lashed out. I know you'll never forgive me, but please Nestfather, please help me."</p> <p>Nestfather scooped Sophia in two of his arms and embraced her. His eyes were flooding with water.</p> <p>"How could you forgive me so easily? I thought you hated me!"</p> <p>"I never hated you, Starlight," he said, "I was sad because I thought you weren't going to come back."</p> <p>"So," Sophia said in-between sobs, "you'll help?"</p> <p>"I will. All is well."</p> <p>"I love 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="/the-part-where-things-happen-and-we-don-t-worry-about-it">The Part Where Things Happen and We Don't Worry About It</a>" by Marceline_Raynes, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-part-where-things-happen-and-we-don-t-worry-about-it">https://scpwiki.com/the-part-where-things-happen-and-we-don-t-worry-about-it</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="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-6801: The Promethean, The Mech, and the Omni Bot"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6801">SCP-6801: The Promethean, The Mech, and the Omni Bot</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Everything Stays"> <p><a class="newpage" href="/url-of-hub">Everything Stays</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="COMING SOON!"> <p><a class="newpage" href="/hold-your-horses-it-s">COMING SOON!</a></p> </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:calamity">:scp-wiki:theme:calamity</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The rainfall came suddenly, as it so often does, and Jalick had forgotten to bring his anti-rain shield generator before he got blasted off the roof a few days ago. He'd tried his best to stay underneath the Omni-Bot's giant arms as they walked across the floral expanse to the next town, but more than enough rain water had pelted his metallic frame that his gears were crying rust. The servos in his joints were threatening to stop working altogether until Jalick found oil or recited an old, forbidden technomancy. Not for the first time, he contemplated summoning the spirit of an old Amerikhan oil baron to spit on him. He recounted the legends his motherboard used to tell him about the Amerikhan Way before the Calamity, when people dug deep tunnels into the planet to hunt and consume oil, as well as anyone that got in their way. The Amerikhans bathed in the stuff, made love with the stuff, went to war for the stuff, and died for the stuff. Surely the legends had some validity to them. But then again, the Amerikhan people were notoriously rude. Jalick didn't have the time nor patience to deal with some primadonna oil baron even if that oil baron could grease his gears. He sighed, his mechanical voice drowned out by the downpour, and continued walking. He'd hoped that if they never stopped he'd never lock up. It took exactly fifteen steps before Jalick's right knee joint stopped turning and he fell on his face. "Bloody hell, Jalick," Sophia Light's raspy voice called out with an annoying level of concern, "are you alright?" Jalick shook the mud off his face and tried to stand. His hands were sinking in the mud, faster than he would have liked. A strong gust of wind blew up in his face from beneath him, rocketing him upward until he was standing straight again. Jalick squinted as he tracked Venti, who, for once, didn't have a shit-eating grin on their face. It wasn't like them to be helpful. "I'm fine," Jalick said, wiping the mud off his legs, "Can we get a move on, please. I think I'm startin' to rust." The Omni-Bot turned its massive head in his direction, optics flickering between orange and white. "Protect." Its monotone voice chimed. Jalick threw his hands up, "Not you too. Come on now, it's just a little rust!" "Protect," The Omni-Bot repeated before turning its attention to the dark, swirling clouds above them. Jalick didn't get another word out before he noticed particles starting to appear in front of the Omni-Bot's optics. Then the air started getting hotter and hotter and hotter until... ZAAAAAAP. The force of the light blue energy beam almost sent Jalick back into the mud -— and it would have too if Venti hadn't kept him upright. The beam fired continuously from the Omni-Bot for only a few seconds as it rotated its head in a complete circle, parting the clouds as the energy swept through them like a hot knife through butter. The rain stopped for a moment as the clouds began to reform once the Omni-Bot finished its rampage. The giant machine looked down at Jalick. Its optics were light blue, and it was shrugging its shoulders rhythmically. "Secure. Secure. Secure." Sophia pat the giant machine's leg, "It's okay big guy, you did your best." "Contain," the Omni-Bot replied before scooping Jalick up in its hands and covering him like a present. Jalick tried to bang on the metal cage he'd found himself in, but the servos in his arms refused to move through the rust. He exclaimed something that Sophia couldn't hear, then let out a loud sigh that she //could// hear, and stopped moving. Sophia looked up at the Omni-Bot, who looked down at her with green optics. She offered a smile and a shrug. "Where are we going?" Jalick shouted, finally loud enough for Sophia to hear. "Deathtown. We'll be safe there, at least until the storm's over." The Omni-Bot nodded and continued walking. Sophia felt a gentle gust of wind blow through her back and out of her chest, startling her and leaving her gasping. Venti snickered. Sophia put her hands on her hips and glared at them. "Don't do that." Venti stopped chuckling to themselves and moved around Sophia in a loose circle. They coiled up and around the Omni-Bot's leg, then its body, before resting near its closed hands. They hovered near one of the Omni-Bot's fingers, where Jalick's hand still poked out a bit. The wind spirit flew in a figure eight around the Omni-Bot's hands, carrying leaves and flowers with them the entire time. A lightbulb clicked in Sophia's head, "Oh. You're worried about Jalick. Trust me, I get it. It's hard seeing your friends in pain. There's a Mekhanic in Deathtown that specializes in this sort of thing. Jalick's gonna be fine." That seemed to calm the wind spirit down some, as they had vanished from Sophia's line of sight. She still felt their presence, even if they weren't carrying debris with them as a visual aid. She wondered how much of what she said was true though. There was //indeed// a Mekhanic in Deathtown, and he //did// specialize in fixing Unhumans up, but she wasn't sure how versed he was at repairing machines. The human body, regardless of the decomposition, was at the very least consistent; you can always find an arm or eye or pelvis in roughly the same place every time. Did mechs abide by the same law of evolution? For Jalick's sake, Sophia hoped so. It was noon the next day when they reached the outer wall of Deathtown. The marble pillars had been collapsed and rebuilt a thousand times in the years following the Calamity, and if you looked closely enough, you'd see the rusted metal patches that were welded onto them years ago. You'd also see lines upon lines of silk that actually did the job the metal patches were supposed to do, but successfully. A few wriggling Skamps struggled to break free from their silky entrapment, but two Prometheans armed with rotten, sharpened bone-spears stabbed into the Skamps' underbelly. The large reptiles shrieked and flailed wildly before going limp. The Prometheans cut the Skamps down and repaired the web by hand before dragging the still-bleeding bodies inside. Sophia sighed. Venti manifested in front of her, this time as a circular swirling pile of dead skin flakes, and hovered in place. "Don't worry about that," Sophia said, "S'just a thing that happens. You're fine." The wind spirit flew in a circle in front of her. "Look, the big guy can't go inside anyway." She pointed to the door amidst the mess of pillars, rock, and web, "See? The door's too small. If you're that worried about being around Prometheans, first of all — stop being racist, and second, stay out here with the Omni-Bot." The skin flakes surrounding Venti suddenly fell to the ground. "Wait," Sophia paused, "You're intangible. What are you even worried about?" There was no answer. She asked again, "Hello? What are you— ah fuck it." Sophia walked toward the half-broken, half-repaired entrance to Deathtown. She gave the Promethean standing guard a nod, and he grunted back. As she stepped over the cracked and crumbled floor, Sophia took a deep breath. The musty, moldy, decrepit air reminded Sophia of those first nights she had after the Calamity. The rotflies, feculent winged bugs the size of watermelons but nowhere near as sweet-smelling, crashed and buzzed around the Prometheans, salivating. Sophia swatted a rotfly away as she continued to walk through the long streets of Deathtown. She had no intention of getting into yet another fight over the ownership of her limbs. To her right, a Promethean flung open her door, wielding a spear made of bone as she chased rotflies out of her house. The three severed heads at the spear's end were chanting something in unison; //Bafinada. Bafinada. BAFINADA.// (Spider-tongue for "Get out.") Sophia's face lit up at the sight of these four Prometheans (or one point three Prometheans to be more accurate.) The one with most of her body intact smiled, and waved the other three around as Sophia walked over to them. "Well if it ain't Sophia H. Light!" The Promethean all but shouted. "Aunt Coco!" Aunt Coco wasn't actually Sophia's aunt, but that's the only name she and everyone else in Deathtown called her. She was a short and plump Promethean, despite most of her midsection being gone. She wore a dress made of her old skin, and although it had faded over the years, Sophia could still see the stretched-out human faces woven into it. Although the sinew and muscles around her jaw had long since fallen off, Aunt Coco's warm smile never ceased to comfort Sophia. As the pair embraced, a dozen tiny spiders crawled out of Aunt Coco's back and onto Sophia's arms and chest. The spiders nipped at her exposed skin for a few seconds before growing bored and leaving her to consume a dead rotfly carcass just outside the door. Sophia smiled. She didn't realize how much she missed Aunt Coco's pets. "Well don't just stand there like an awkward teenager, come in!" Sophia followed Aunt Coco into her house, which was more decorated since the last time she visited. The floor was still made out of cracked marble, but now there was an old rug with an intricate pattern over it. The mildew gave the air in Aunt Coco's house an oddly nostalgic scent, like what Sophia remembered just after she woke up for the first time. There were three sets of rotting limbs sat in the corner, collecting flies, dust, and nursing spider eggs. The couch was made of old bones and coagulated fat, lined all in that same casing sausage meat is packed in. Still comfortable to sit in. Aunt Coco set the three-headed spear next to Sophia and walked into another room, "You kids catch up while I put on a pot of tea!" Sophia waved a quick "thank you" to Aunt Coco before she rounded the corner, then she turned her attention to the spear. The two of the three Prometheans looked at her, smiling as if they'd just seen a newborn puppy. The other one struggled in place, trying in vain to turn around. "Sophie!" The two heads facing her shouted in unison. "Apex, Axel, Altus! You guys are looking... great!" Sophia went in for a hug but didn't know what exactly to wrap her arms around. She thought about hugging the shaft, but that wasn't exactly hugging //them//. Or was it? Were the four femurs stacked on top of one another their body now, or was it just prosthetic? She tried to wrap her arms around all three of their heads but stopped herself. "I... I don't know how to hug you anymore." She admitted. Apex, the head with a buzzcut and missing eyeball, said, "It's alright. The rot was getting to us, really badly. Nestfather couldn't even do anything for us after a while. The skin wasn't tight enough, and our muscle fibers too worn down and decayed. That's when ma had the brilliant idea to lob our heads off and stick all three of us to this here magic femur staff." "SHE CALLS IT THE SHUNTER." Altus yelled. Axel chimed in, "Ya shoulda seen it, Sophie. One day I was sleeping in my own bed, filing my fingertips inta knives for cuttin' 'n stabbin' 'n shit, an' the next mornin' I'm light as a feather. Ya know, for a hot minute there I thought it was 'cause of my exercise regimen." Sophia raised an eyebrow, "You have an exercise regimen?" Axel smiled, the cracks in his lips parting even more, "I //did//. An' it was GREAT." The third head thrashed around and screamed, "SOPHIA I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE. I CANNOT SEE YOU BUT I AM GLAD YOU ARE STILL ALIVE." Sophia rotated the staff so that Altus could make eye contact with her. Except he couldn't. The Promthean's eyes were two inky black voids that had become home to a cluster of spider eggs. "I AM HAPPY TO SEE YOU SOPHIE." Sophia chuckled, "I'm happy to see you too, Altus. How's Aunt Coco been?" "AWFUL. SHE IS SO SAD SINCE YOU LEFT. SHE IS HAPPY YOU HAVE RETURNED. I HAVE NOT SEEN HER SMILE LIKE THAT SINCE MY EYES FELL OUT." "Oh," Sophia blinked, "I uh..." Aunt Coco returned, carrying a steaming cup of embalming tea that she stirred with a bony finger. She blew on it before handing it to Sophia with a smile and sitting on the couch next to her. "Sorry about leaving you alone with these knuckleheads for so long, sweetheart," She grabbed the staff and leaned it against the wall. Apex and Axel let out a soft gasp. "WHAT IS HAPPENING?" Aunt Coco shushed the heads then turned her attention back to Sophia, "How've you been? Was the outside world as great as you hoped it would be?" Sophia took a sip from her cup, "Uh, yeah. Sure." "Did you ever see //Her// again? Did you take the fight to that terrible, terrible creature like you always wanted to?" She took a long sip from her cup and didn't say anything. "Ah, I see. Well, we can't all achieve everything we set out for, right?" "I CAN MOTHER." "Shut up, Altus," Axel's muffled voice called out. "So what //have// you been up to, deary. You can tell me anything, you know." Sophia shrugged her shoulders, "Well, I've been getting really into gardening." Aunt Coco's eyes widened, "Gardening?" "Yeah, and I have a death machine that looks out for me. I call it the Omni-Bot." Aunt Coco clapped her hands and squealed, her hoarse voice rattling the bones in her throat. She shot up from her seat and went back into the kitchen. Sophia heard pots and pans crashing around, Aunt Coco cursed under her breath, and then in the next moment, she was back on the couch with a wilted plant in her hands. "Can you do anything to save him?" Sophia set her cup down and examined the plant. The stalk was dried and cracked, the flower petals all the wrong shade of brown, and the roots growing through the pot were gnarled and twisted in unnatural ways. Clearly whatever Aunt Coco did to this poor plant was worse than death. "Uh..." Sophia offered a weak smile, "I don't think so, Aunt Coco. This looks, well, not the best. Maybe it needs some amino acids or something." "Oh drat." Aunt Coco took the plant from Sophia and threw it out the window. "WAS THAT MY GERMANIUM?" "No, sweetheart. I just swatted a rotfly with one of the old ceramic pots." "WAS IT THE ONE THAT I WAS GROWING MY GERMANIUM IN?" "No, Altus." "OKAY. I REALLY LIKED THAT GERMANIUM. I WOULD HATE TO SEE IT DIE." Aunt Coco sighed, whispering to Sophia, "I fucking //hated// that plant. It was dreadful, truly bringing down the place. Not like you, of course. You really bring the "death" to Deathtown. Nestfather is going to be so excited to see you again. It's been what, ten, twenty years?" "Twenty-three," Sophia corrected. "My, my. Twenty-three years and you've hardly decayed a day. Don't let me keep you, deary. Go and see Nestfather!" "I'm not so sure he'd be happy to see me." "Why not? It's not like you broke his heart or anything like that, right?" "Well..." Aunt Coco pouted. "Don't you worry about it. Sad as he might have been, and I suspect he's been quite sad cooped up down there in that chamber of his, I'm sure all that will just... disappear once he's seen you. Go on. I'll make you a cup of tea for the walk." "Thanks, Aunt Coco. You mind if I hang back here for a little while? My legs kind of hurt." "Of course not. Stay as long as you like. Sophia waited a few more minutes for Aunt Coco to bring her another cup of tea. She sat on the couch, taking small sips of the drink as infrequently as she could without looking too suspicious. A few of the eggs inside of Altus's head finally hatched, unleashing a newly born legion of spiders all over the floor. Altus gave a close approximation to a laugh while Axel and Apex groaned. Sophia wasn't sure why they were so upset. It's not like //they// stormed out of Deathtown twenty-three years ago and never once visited. After some hours passed, Sophia waved her goodbyes and left, walking deeper into Deathtown with a bit more pep in her step. Aunt Coco had a weird way of making her feel better, even when things were particularly dire. The buildings in Deathtown were carved into the walls of the mountain's guts, with amber lights shining through the windows of the rock and clay infrastructure. Loose cables hung lazily between the buildings, pulsing with light blue energy. On the building walls, where the cables ran inside, clusters of Thundercaps lay waiting in ambush. Each of the light grey and yellow mushrooms throbbed up and down as waves of energy passed near them. Sophia groaned as she heard the staticky (yet somehow wet) sound of energy being siphoned off the line by the mycelium. Thankfully there were Prometheans armed with long spears and determination around to cut them down. The hacked-off Thundercaps found themselves in a cart on a long line of carts being pulled by a stag beetle, the only insect down here that had no interest in consuming Prometheans or their parts. The cart was about the size of a pre-Calamity train car, and it shook the ground like one too. Sophia shook her head as she saw the contents of the other carts passing by; Promethean arms and legs, a few torsos, dead rotfly parts, and the severed head of Wisteria yapping away like there was no tomorrow. "—and so of course the flux capacitor wouldn't work. The idiot was using sub-optimal theoretical quantum super mechanics instead of Post-Calamity proven tenth-circle occultic hyper dimensions to power the warp drive. I mean come //ON//. Ever since Sophia left it's like I'm the only one around here with the lights on upstairs." The head next to Wisteria, who Sophia didn't recognize, rolled his eyes, "Ohmygodwillyoupleaseshutup." "I'm just saying," Wisteria continued, "if the house always wins, then why is the centipede stuck in a hyperdimension?" "Ohmygod." Sophia decided to give the other head mercy and scooped Wisteria from their place in the cart. She tucked their head under her arm and followed the train-car on foot, keeping pace with it as it slowly churned its way downhill into the depths of Deathtown. "Glad to see you're still a menace to society at large, Tala." Sophia said, shaking her head. The head responded, "Somebody's gotta be. It's lonely around here. I feel like no one really understands science, not like you and I. Every conversation doesn't do anything for me. It's hard, like tungsten. Or iron. Or corium. Or like trying to open a portal into a hyperdimension to save a close friend while your body is falling apart at the seams. You know what I'm saying?" "Yeah, that sounds rough," Sophia chuckled, "What are you doing messing around with fifth-dimensional mathematics and metamaterials anyway? I thought you gave that up after what happened to Charles." "Feh," Wisteria scoffed, "You and I both know that was an accident." "Nestfather didn't seem to think so." "//Nestfather// wasn't there. He's not omniscient you know." "You've certainly adjusted quite well." "Hey, explorations into higher dimensions can't all be winners. Sometimes you come back fine, other times you get disintegrated and have to be reassembled molecule by molecule over a few weeks by a very dedicated and beautiful scientist. I've lost sleep over this, you know." Sophia rolled her eyes, "That's not the only thing you've lost apparently." Wisteria stuck their tongue out, "If only there was //someone// around here to help me." The words hung in the dank air longer than Sophia felt comfortable with. She still remembered the day that she left Deathtown a few years ago after a heated dispute with Nestfather. There was a lot of yelling and screaming on her part, all while the patient Nestfather sat in his webs, spinning his arms in smooth, methodical patterns, listening to her. When he didn't give her the answers she was looking for, Sophia stormed out of the den and Deathtown altogether, not even bothering to say good-bye to anyone on her way out. She was angry about a lot of things for a long time, but even after she calmed down she couldn't bear the thought of coming back to face Nestfather again. It would have been too awkward and too embarrassing. "How's Nestfather been?" Sophia asked, "I hear he's not doing so well." "Who told you that?" Wisteria asked, eyebrow raised. "Aunt Coco." "Ah, so it must be true then." "What must be true?" "Well, Nestfather's been a bit of a wreck. Haven't seen him prowling around the corridors in damn near thirty years. Hasn't been the same since you left, honestly. I only see him when I'm, as you can see, in a bit of a bind. But I think you being back is just the pick-me-up he needed!" Sophia swallowed the thought and reminded herself why she was back. Jalick needed help, and Nestfather was his best chance at recovery. Assuming that he wasn't too far gone already and Nestfather wasn't holding a grudge. Sophia didn't say anything until the train came to a stop outside of a door made of webs. Dozens of three-foot-tall spiders emerged from behind the webs and descended upon the train carts. They examined the body parts inside, much to the chagrin of the collection of heads among the pile. The spiders worked quickly taking the parts into a hole in the ceiling. One of them approached Sophia with two arms outstretched while another limb pointed at Wisteria's head. "Hagimas geo?" The spider said. Wisteria looked at Sophia and winked, and then they were in the spider's hands being carried into the ceiling. "See you on the other side!" They shouted. Sophia swallowed and looked at the web-door. On the other side, she could make out the silhouette of Nestfather reaching upward and maneuvering his limbs with the precision and care that she'd come to expect from him. She reached a hand out to move the webs apart but hesitated. She left her hand there, a few inches from parting the webs, for a while. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, and the hole where her heart once was started to hurt. //What am I going to say? He probably hates me. He's going to take my body apart and eat me for lunch. He'll never forgive me. How can he, I was such a-// "Come in, Sophia," Nestfather's booming voice echoed from inside the room. Sophia gulped, parted the webs, and headed inside. Nestfather's chambers were exactly the way she remembered them; sticky and cold. Cobwebs and piles of bones were littered all over the floor. Stalagmites and stalactites were scattered all over, meaning Sophia would have several hiding spots should Nestfather go on the offensive. Lightbulbs crackled with life above, connected to the ceiling by the same powerlines she saw before, only without the Thundercaps suckling the power for themselves. Nestfather himself was as big as ever, partially taking up the entirety of the back wall. He had a few more grey hairs on his body and legs than Sophia remembered, and his beard was a little longer than it was a few years ago. The wrinkles between his eyes had grown deeper, and there was more than one eye that was glossed over with cataracts. Despite that, Nestfather still carried out his work meticulously. He had a head in one of his hands while using the other limbs to sift through the pile of body parts, trying to find a match. The smaller spiders worked to separate the parts into categories; heads, legs, torsos, arms, and every combination there was. The head in Nestfather's hand, the same one that was being tormented by Wisteria, shouted at the smaller spiders as they moved a mostly intact body to its own pile away from the rest. "Hey! Careful with that!" The spiders carried the body to Nestfather with the grace of a whale in a television store, dumping the corpse in front of him. Nestfather scooped the body up and placed the head on the shoulders. He rotated it and spat a steady stream of silk around the cut line, stopping once the whole area was covered. Then he started stitching the head back to the neck, and the owner sighed in relief. "Thanks again, Nestfather," Said the repaired Promethean, "Hey Sophia." Sophia offered a meek wave as she walked past him to stand before Nestfather. Up close she could feel the rhythmic vibrations of his breath resonating through her body. She cleared her throat and began speaking, "Nestfather." "Starlight," Nestfather narrowed his eyes, "Are you in need of repair?" "N-no, Nestfather." "Are you ill?" "No, sir." "Are you in danger?" Sophia furrowed her brows, "Not to my knowledge, sir." Nestfather cleared his throat and picked up another head from the head pile, "Then what brings you back home?" "I... um... well... I have this friend..." The giant spider's eyes widened a bit, "Yes?" "My friend is in need of repair, sir. I thought that, well, you might be able to help him." "Ah, I see." Nestfather turned his attention to the next Promethean, turning the body over in his hands and spitting silk on the severed limbs before stitching them to the body. Sophia scratched the back of her head as she searched for the right words. Were there even right words to find? Nestfather had devoted his attention to the Promethean in need, averting his eyes from Sophia. She paced back and forth with her hands on her heads, running through a thousand words at once. She started to speak, thought, and stopped herself more times than she could count. Nestfather paid her no mind. Eventually, she decided that there was only one thing to say, "I'm sorry." "Oh.' Nestfather said, still not looking in her direction, "You're sorry?" Sophia hung her head, "I'm sorry for saying all those things to you. I know you probably hate me but... Nestfather, I need your help. My friend, Jalick, is rusting. We got caught in a rainstorm on our way here and now he can't move. I'm afraid that a Scrapper or a bandit is going to take him apart and sell his conduits on the black market and I don't know how to help him." Nestfather scoffed, "That sounds like a personal problem, Starlight." Sophia winced as he picked up Wisteria's head. The words hurt more than her resurrection did. Wisteria's smile and disconnected arm waving at her as Nestfather stitched her back together didn't help any either. "You're doing great, Sophia!" Wisteria cheered. Nestfather grunted, "I wouldn't say //that//. All things considered, Tala, your sister is doing a very poor job at making amends." Wisteria frowned, her recently attached shoulders slumped forward. They offered Sophia a sympathetic smile and said, "She's trying her best, Nestfather. Maybe give her a chance?" "What could she possibly have to say to me?" "You won't know until you find out, will you?" "I'm standing right here, guys." Sophia blurted. She covered her mouth and wished the words stayed in her throat. Nestfather set Wisteria loose on the ground once the stitches were done. They stretched their limbs and cracked their knuckles before offering Sophia a thumbs up and leaving. Once they were on the other side of the web wall, Nestfather sighed, the noise shaking the entire cavern. He still wouldn't look at her. "So you thought you would come here, stand before me, and ask for my help? After telling me that I was a 'useless god that was too scared to face //Her// when she descended upon our way of life'?" Right. That's what she said. When that formless, shapeless god fell from the sky and started eating Prometheans, Sophia tried to rally the survivors against it to save themselves. Nestfather had forbidden her and anyone else from taking action, and collapsed the entrance to Deathtown into the mountainside to hide from //Her//. And there they waited in the dark for hundreds of years, biding their time, eating mold and rocks to get by, slowly being picked off by Rotflies and Thundercaps and every other creature that called the mountain home. All while Nestfather did nothing but hide in this very room and try to stave off the death of the Prometheans under his watch with his silk and repairs. "Look," She swallowed, "I admit it was uncalled for, but you weren't doing anything to help us! And you stopped me from saving us. I hated it, hated you. I just... I couldn't stand hiding anymore. I had to take the fight to //Her//, but by the time I found the Omni-Bot, //She// was long gone." Nestfather said nothing and continued fixing up Prometheans and sending them on their way. "I know I said some hurtful things, stuff I could have avoided saying at the time. But you have to understand-" Suddenly Nestfather stopped. He slammed each of his limbs into the ground as he turned to face Sophia. She held her breath as her lowered his body until his massive eyes were at eye level with her. "I don't //have// to understand anything, Starlight." "Please, Nestfather, my friend-" "What makes you think I care about some surface-dwelling spy of //Her's//? You left me for twenty-three years. Twenty. Three. Years. Do you have any idea what it's like not knowing if your child is dead for two and a half decades? I sent scouts for you every night and they came back empty-handed. Prometheans prayed for your safe return. //I// prayed for your safe return. And where were you? Galavanting after Old World relics? Tending to flowers?" Sophia stuttered. Nestfather sighed and began work on another Promethean. She turned to leave, looking over her shoulder as Nestfather continued repairing Prometheans. She had nothing to say now. Everything had already been laid out on the table in front of her. But something kept her from crossing through those webs. "You can hate me if you want," Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, "I've been a terrible daughter to you, and you deserve so much better than me. I was stupid, and rash, and furious with you so I lashed out. I know you'll never forgive me, but please Nestfather, please help me." Nestfather scooped Sophia in two of his arms and embraced her. His eyes were flooding with water. "How could you forgive me so easily? I thought you hated me!" "I never hated you, Starlight," he said, "I was sad because I thought you weren't going to come back." "So," Sophia said in-between sobs, "you'll help?" "I will. All is well." "I love you." [[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>]] [[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-6801\| previous-title=SCP-6801: The Promethean, The Mech, and the Omni Bot \| next-url=HOLD YOUR HORSES, IT'S\| next-title=COMING SOON! \| hub-url=URL_OF_HUB \| hub-title=Everything Stays ]]	2023-01-18T23:25:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale", "unhuman" ]	The Part Where Things Happen and We Don't Worry About It - SCP Foundation	33	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "scp-6801", "url-of-hub", "hold-your-horses-it-s" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1445527534	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-part-where-things-happen-and-we-don-t-worry-about-it
the-punchline-is-murder	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>It started, as all good stories do, like a bad joke: A junior researcher, a director, a technician, a pataphysicist, an MTF agent, and a site security guard walk into a cafeteria.</p> <p>The junior researcher buys lunch from the cafeteria vending machine. After a short but fierce struggle, a single coffee bar clumsily clanks out.</p> <p>The director has brought food from home. A tangy citrus aroma briefly fills the air as he reheats his orange chicken in the dirty microwave.</p> <p>The technician taps her computer impatiently, gulping down jasmine tea with abandon.</p> <p>The pataphysicist sits quietly across from the junior researcher. It seems he's waiting for the exposition to end.</p> <p>The MTF agent keeps a tight gaze over the 5 others in the room. As he watches the security guard slowly and methodically make his way up to the front of the room, he senses something is wrong. He stammers out "Wait!" as…</p> <p>The security guard unholsters his gun and splatters himself across the cafeteria floor.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <p>Al was close enough to be half-deafened by the shot, and the first to react. Orange chicken abandoned, he stumbled away from the newfound corpse of the security guard, cursing and screaming.</p> <p>Across the room, Stella vomited tea across her computer in horror. Erin, coffee bar still in mouth, rushed over to help her before she added further to the growing pool of bodily fluids on the ground.</p> <p>Caleb, having realized the tense change signalled the end of the expository section, carefully made his way towards the body. When he got there, Salazar's task force issue quarantine assistant was already rolling around, scanning for evidence.</p> <p><tt>"Scan Complete."</tt> it hummed. <tt>"5 anomalous influences detected."</tt></p> <p>The room was quiet as Salazar contemplated the analysis.</p> <p>"F-five?" Caleb managed to get out.</p> <p>Salazar seemed unconcerned. "It's probably just one effect, these readers are always a bit scuffed inside Sites. The other four are likely trace residue from any past anomalies handled here." Salazar inputted a quick set of commands into the robot.</p> <p><tt>"5 anomalous influences detected:"</tt><br/> <tt>"TECHNOHAZARD detected."</tt><br/> <tt>"ZERO2HERO detected."</tt><br/> <tt>"KETER THREAT detected."</tt><br/> <tt>"AVIAN FLU detected."</tt><br/> <tt>"EIGENVECTOR detected."</tt></p> <p>"Avian flu?" Stella hazarded. "That isn't exactly an anomaly."</p> <p>"Code for a nasty semiohazard. Trust me, you literally don't want to know." Erin explained.</p> <p>"They're all codes, for anomalies in this facility." Al quickly pointed out. "TECHNOHAZARD is that USB, the one on Wing 8 with the techno-organic virus on it."</p> <p>All eyes turned to Stella in morbid curiosity. "Converts your veins into wires. Nasty stuff, but Safe."</p> <p>Al continued. "ZERO2HERO is one of Caleb's. Something about artificial protagonistic potential?"</p> <p>"Fatal, but cool while it lasts." Caleb shrugged.</p> <p>"KETER THREAT is…" Al looked around, a little embarrassed. "A pen-knife that thinks it's a gerbil. It's harmless and cute. It's extremely Safe." At the other four's incredulous looks, he quickly moved on. "And EIGENVECTOR is -"</p> <p>"Confidential." Salazar affirmed.</p> <p>"Right."</p> <p>Stella considered the possibilities in her head. "Well, we can rule some of these out right away. Whatever hit him couldn't have been the virus. He would be a mess of metal right now." She turned to Al. "Not exactly a knife wound, either."</p> <p>Caleb and Erin nodded their heads in agreement, but Salazar shifted uncomfortably. "Let's not make any assumptions. I'll call in a cleanup crew — they'll deal with this." He pulled a black cover from his bag over the dead body. "You guys watch over the body while I'm gone."</p> <p>The dead's dignity adequately preserved, he treaded towards the doors. But as he placed his hand on the handle, a sudden, blaring alarm sounded. Out of instinct, he dodged away. With all the grace of a heavy metal gate, the blast-proof cafeteria door seal fell into place, just missing Salazar. All heads turned towards Caleb, who had discreetly made his way over to an electrical wall panel. A single one-way switch entitled EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN was depressed.</p> <p>A cacophony of curses and incredulity quickly arose.<br/> "What are you doing!?"<br/> "Caleb what the fuck?!"<br/> "Young man!"<br/> "You nearly took my head off!"</p> <p>Caleb was unimpressed. "Guys, calm down. I can explain exactly what we're dealing with."</p> <p>The room was thoroughly uncalmed by this declaration.</p> <p>"Think about it. One victim. Five survivors to a crime, in an enclosed space. Five possible murder weap-."</p> <p>Al cut him off. "What the hell are you talking about? Stella, you brought your laptop with you, right? Can you send out an emergency call on SCiPnet?"</p> <p>Five pairs of eyes fell upon the laptop. It was still dripping jasmine tea from Stella's earlier mishap. Stella gingerly pressed the power button, only for the screen to spit out a technicolor yawn of its own. "No."</p> <p>A confident smile crept up Caleb's face. "See? I noticed the narrative shift as soon as I sat down in the cafeteria. We're in a story. And…" He paused smugly for the grand reveal. "It follows that one of us, in this very room, killed our man." Eyeing Salazar suspiciously, he added. "And would be in quite a hurry to leave."</p> <p>Salazar considered the implicit accusation. "That's a bold claim, <em>chico</em>. But what could possibly motivate any of us to kill the poor bastard?" He turned to Al for support, but the Director seemed deep in thoughts of his own.</p> <p>Caleb's eyes glinted. "Ah, that's for us to find out. Because the genre of this story…" He paused, again, for emphasis.</p> <p>"Is murder mystery."</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <script src="https://d3g0gp89917ko0.cloudfront.net/v--4b961b7cc327/common--javascript/yahooui/tabview-min.js" type="text/javascript"></script> <div class="yui-navset" id="wiki-tabview-50c834994360bfd9fe781490942db576"> <ul class="yui-nav"> <li class="selected"><a href="javascript:;"><em>Erin Stresemann</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>Alastair Ping</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>Stella Lu</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>Caleb Gastonia</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>Salazar Cruz</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>███ ████</em></a></li> </ul> <div class="yui-content"> <div id="wiki-tab-0-0"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> <p><strong>Username:</strong> EStresemann<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> Other<br/> <strong>Age:</strong> 24<br/> <strong>Role:</strong> Junior Researcher<br/> <strong>Access:</strong> Tier 2 (+E)<br/> <strong>Site History:</strong> 8 (Cur.) \| 63 \| 106 (T)<br/> <strong>Supervisor:</strong> Elias LaFin<br/> <strong>Unit:</strong> CROSS-CONTAMINATION<br/> <strong>Disciplinary:</strong> N/A<br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Motive:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Evidence:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Alibi:</strong> ???</span></p> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> </div> </div> <div id="wiki-tab-0-1" style="display:none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> <p><strong>Username:</strong> APing3<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> Mr.<br/> <strong>Age:</strong> 46<br/> <strong>Role:</strong> Site Director<br/> <strong>Access:</strong> Tier 4<br/> <strong>Site History:</strong> 8 (Cur.) \| 36 \| 50 \| 79 \| 44 \| 46 \| 44<br/> <strong>Supervisor:</strong> ███<br/> <strong>Unit:</strong> ADMINISTRATION<br/> <strong>Disciplinary:</strong> LOG210-AE125-36<br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Motive:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Evidence:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Alibi:</strong> ???</span></p> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> </div> </div> <div id="wiki-tab-0-2" style="display:none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> <p><strong>Username:</strong> StellaLu7<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> Ms.<br/> <strong>Age:</strong> 25<br/> <strong>Role:</strong> Technician<br/> <strong>Access:</strong> Tier 3 (Tech)<br/> <strong>Site History:</strong> 8 (Cur.) \| 36<br/> <strong>Supervisor:</strong> ███<br/> <strong>Unit:</strong> TECHNOLOGICAL ANOMALIES<br/> <strong>Disciplinary:</strong> N/A<br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Motive:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span 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style="display:none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> <p><strong>Username:</strong> SCruz10<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> Mr.<br/> <strong>Age:</strong> 43<br/> <strong>Role:</strong> MTF Agent (Captain)<br/> <strong>Access:</strong> Tier 3 (MTF)<br/> <strong>Site History:</strong> 8 (Cur.) \| 36 \| 50 \| ██ \| 79 \| 6 \| 22<br/> <strong>Supervisor:</strong> Alastair Ping<br/> <strong>Unit:</strong> MTF Mu-12<br/> <strong>Disciplinary:</strong> LOG210-AE125-36 \| ███████████ \| ███████████<br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Motive:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Evidence:</strong> ???</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Alibi:</strong> ???</span></p> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> </div> </div> <div id="wiki-tab-0-5" style="display:none"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> <p><strong>Username:</strong> ███████<br/> <strong>Title:</strong> ███<br/> <strong>Age:</strong> ██<br/> <strong>Role:</strong> ██████████████<br/> <strong>Access:</strong> ██████<br/> <strong>Site History:</strong> 8 (Cur.) \| ██<br/> <strong>Supervisor:</strong> █████████████<br/> <strong>Unit:</strong> ████████<br/> <strong>Disciplinary:</strong> ███████████<br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Motive:</strong> N/A</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Evidence:</strong> N/A</span><br/> <span style="color: red"><strong>Alibi:</strong> N/A</span></p> <p><strong>SCiPIAM Employee Database</strong></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <script type="text/javascript"> //<![CDATA[ OZONE.dom.onDomReady(function(){ var tabView50c834994360bfd9fe781490942db576 = new YAHOO.widget.TabView('wiki-tabview-50c834994360bfd9fe781490942db576'); }, "dummy-ondomready-block"); //]]> </script><br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <p>"Do you believe him?" Stella queried. Their small group was now split into 3. Stella and Erin were sitting at a table, as far away from the body as possible. At the cafeteria door, Salazar and Al were attempting in vain to break the seal by force. Caleb remained near the electrical panel, gleefully scribbling something on a notepad.</p> <p>Stella stared at Erin. For having worked together for the better part of two years, she realized she didn't know much about them at all. She'd tried to get closer to them ever since they met on the advisory committee for that chain email cognitohazard, but never seemed to find the right words to say. <em>A life or death situation is as good a time as any to get to know someone, I suppose.</em> Her train of thought derailed as Erin began their answer.</p> <p>"His theory doesn't make any sense. We all saw the guy off himself. And even if it was something compulsive, the "murder weapons" don't line up with that. But…" Erin looked up. "It'll take a while before site security notices something's wrong. And even longer after that to bust down that door. Might as well play along for now."</p> <p>"Hm. I suppose there's no harm in it." There was a short silence. "Who do you think did it?" Stella asked, a bit too eagerly. Seeing Erin's shock, she backtracked. "I-I mean, hypothetically, of course."</p> <p>Erin didn't answer, but their eyes wandered to the door.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <p>Salazar's boot connected again with the steel gate. "GOD! DAMNIT! MOVE!" He panted heavily, exhausted from the effort. Al put a hand on Salazar's shoulder and wordlessly offered him some water. Salazar gratefully took a swig.</p> <p>Al broke the silence. "We have to tell them."</p> <p>"No."</p> <p>"We can't just hide it forever."</p> <p>"Telling them will just cause more problems. The boy will take it as confirmation for his lunatic theory. And who knows what the other two will do with the information."</p> <p>"They're not stupid. They'll figure it out eventually, and then we'll look untrustworthy for hiding it."</p> <p>"Enough. We're not going to tell them about EIGENVECTOR."</p> <p>"Watch your tone. We're not at 36 anymore — I outrank you now."</p> <p>Salazar gritted his teeth. He leaned in closer to Al, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't forget I'm covering your ass about Aaron right now. If we're going to tell them about EIGENVECTOR, we might as well tell them just how well you knew <em>señor</em> corpse, no?"</p> <p>Al seethed at the threat, but no one would be told about MTF Mu-12's little eigenweapon today.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <p>… But Caleb already had a pretty good idea. The final, unrevealed anomaly tying everything together… some sort of top secret device — a literal plot device! He laughed at the thought. Everything was falling into place, and Caleb was in his element. He knew his giggling and note-taking made him look more suspicious, but he couldn't help it. It had taken years of scoffed-at patatheory, but he had finally entered the narrative.</p> <p>And he was about to tell one hell of a tale.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><tt>‎‎</tt></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>To be continued! \| Waiting Game »</strong></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-punchline-is-murder">The Punchline Is Murder</a>" by cheesybreezy, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-punchline-is-murder">https://scpwiki.com/the-punchline-is-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>	It started, as all good stories do, like a bad joke: A junior researcher, a director, a technician, a pataphysicist, an MTF agent, and a site security guard walk into a cafeteria. The junior researcher buys lunch from the cafeteria vending machine. After a short but fierce struggle, a single coffee bar clumsily clanks out. The director has brought food from home. A tangy citrus aroma briefly fills the air as he reheats his orange chicken in the dirty microwave. The technician taps her computer impatiently, gulping down jasmine tea with abandon. The pataphysicist sits quietly across from the junior researcher. It seems he's waiting for the exposition to end. The MTF agent keeps a tight gaze over the 5 others in the room. As he watches the security guard slowly and methodically make his way up to the front of the room, he senses something is wrong. He stammers out "Wait!" as... The security guard unholsters his gun and splatters himself across the cafeteria floor. [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] ---- [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] Al was close enough to be half-deafened by the shot, and the first to react. Orange chicken abandoned, he stumbled away from the newfound corpse of the security guard, cursing and screaming. Across the room, Stella vomited tea across her computer in horror. Erin, coffee bar still in mouth, rushed over to help her before she added further to the growing pool of bodily fluids on the ground. Caleb, having realized the tense change signalled the end of the expository section, carefully made his way towards the body. When he got there, Salazar's task force issue quarantine assistant was already rolling around, scanning for evidence. {{"Scan Complete."}} it hummed. {{"5 anomalous influences detected."}} The room was quiet as Salazar contemplated the analysis. "F-five?" Caleb managed to get out. Salazar seemed unconcerned. "It's probably just one effect, these readers are always a bit scuffed inside Sites. The other four are likely trace residue from any past anomalies handled here." Salazar inputted a quick set of commands into the robot. {{"5 anomalous influences detected:"}} {{"TECHNOHAZARD detected."}} {{"ZERO2HERO detected."}} {{"KETER THREAT detected."}} {{"AVIAN FLU detected."}} {{"EIGENVECTOR detected."}} "Avian flu?" Stella hazarded. "That isn't exactly an anomaly." "Code for a nasty semiohazard. Trust me, you literally don't want to know." Erin explained. "They're all codes, for anomalies in this facility." Al quickly pointed out. "TECHNOHAZARD is that USB, the one on Wing 8 with the techno-organic virus on it." All eyes turned to Stella in morbid curiosity. "Converts your veins into wires. Nasty stuff, but Safe." Al continued. "ZERO2HERO is one of Caleb's. Something about artificial protagonistic potential?" "Fatal, but cool while it lasts." Caleb shrugged. "KETER THREAT is..." Al looked around, a little embarrassed. "A pen-knife that thinks it's a gerbil. It's harmless and cute. It's extremely Safe." At the other four's incredulous looks, he quickly moved on. "And EIGENVECTOR is -" "Confidential." Salazar affirmed. "Right." Stella considered the possibilities in her head. "Well, we can rule some of these out right away. Whatever hit him couldn't have been the virus. He would be a mess of metal right now." She turned to Al. "Not exactly a knife wound, either." Caleb and Erin nodded their heads in agreement, but Salazar shifted uncomfortably. "Let's not make any assumptions. I'll call in a cleanup crew — they'll deal with this." He pulled a black cover from his bag over the dead body. "You guys watch over the body while I'm gone." The dead's dignity adequately preserved, he treaded towards the doors. But as he placed his hand on the handle, a sudden, blaring alarm sounded. Out of instinct, he dodged away. With all the grace of a heavy metal gate, the blast-proof cafeteria door seal fell into place, just missing Salazar. All heads turned towards Caleb, who had discreetly made his way over to an electrical wall panel. A single one-way switch entitled EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN was depressed. A cacophony of curses and incredulity quickly arose. "What are you doing!?" "Caleb what the fuck?!" "Young man!" "You nearly took my head off!" Caleb was unimpressed. "Guys, calm down. I can explain exactly what we're dealing with." The room was thoroughly uncalmed by this declaration. "Think about it. One victim. Five survivors to a crime, in an enclosed space. Five possible murder weap-." Al cut him off. "What the hell are you talking about? Stella, you brought your laptop with you, right? Can you send out an emergency call on SCiPnet?" Five pairs of eyes fell upon the laptop. It was still dripping jasmine tea from Stella's earlier mishap. Stella gingerly pressed the power button, only for the screen to spit out a technicolor yawn of its own. "No." A confident smile crept up Caleb's face. "See? I noticed the narrative shift as soon as I sat down in the cafeteria. We're in a story. And..." He paused smugly for the grand reveal. "It follows that one of us, in this very room, killed our man." Eyeing Salazar suspiciously, he added. "And would be in quite a hurry to leave." Salazar considered the implicit accusation. "That's a bold claim, //chico//. But what could possibly motivate any of us to kill the poor bastard?" He turned to Al for support, but the Director seemed deep in thoughts of his own. Caleb's eyes glinted. "Ah, that's for us to find out. Because the genre of this story..." He paused, again, for emphasis. "Is murder mystery." [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] ---- [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] [[tabview]] [[tab Erin Stresemann]] [[=]] SCiPIAM Employee Database Username: EStresemann Title: Other Age: 24 Role: Junior Researcher Access: Tier 2 (+E) Site History: 8 (Cur.) \| 63 \| 106 (T) Supervisor: Elias LaFin Unit: CROSS-CONTAMINATION Disciplinary: N/A ##red\|Motive: ???## ##red\|Evidence: ???## ##red\|Alibi: ???## SCiPIAM Employee Database [[/=]] [[/tab]] [[tab Alastair Ping]] [[=]] SCiPIAM Employee Database Username: APing3 Title: Mr. Age: 46 Role: Site Director Access: Tier 4 Site History: 8 (Cur.) \| 36 \| 50 \| 79 \| 44 \| 46 \| 44 Supervisor: ███ Unit: ADMINISTRATION Disciplinary: LOG210-AE125-36 ##red\|Motive: ???## ##red\|Evidence: ???## ##red\|Alibi: ???## SCiPIAM Employee Database [[/=]] [[/tab]] [[tab Stella Lu]] [[=]] SCiPIAM Employee Database Username: StellaLu7 Title: Ms. Age: 25 Role: Technician Access: Tier 3 (Tech) Site History: 8 (Cur.) \| 36 Supervisor: ███ Unit: TECHNOLOGICAL ANOMALIES Disciplinary: N/A ##red\|Motive: ???## ##red\|Evidence: ???## ##red\|Alibi: ???## SCiPIAM Employee Database [[/=]] [[/tab]] [[tab Caleb Gastonia]] [[=]] SCiPIAM Employee Database Username: CGastonia Title: Mr. Age: 28 Role: Researcher Access: Tier ████ Site History: 8 (Cur.) \| ██ \| ██ \| ██ (T) Supervisor: ███ Unit: PATAPHYSICS Disciplinary: ███████████ ##red\|Motive: ???## ##red\|Evidence: ???## ##red\|Alibi: ???## SCiPIAM Employee Database [[/=]] [[/tab]] [[tab Salazar Cruz]] [[=]] SCiPIAM Employee Database Username: SCruz10 Title: Mr. Age: 43 Role: MTF Agent (Captain) Access: Tier 3 (MTF) Site History: 8 (Cur.) \| 36 \| 50 \| ██ \| 79 \| 6 \| 22 Supervisor: Alastair Ping Unit: MTF Mu-12 Disciplinary: LOG210-AE125-36 \| ███████████ \| ███████████ ##red\|Motive: ???## ##red\|Evidence: ???## ##red\|Alibi: ???## SCiPIAM Employee Database [[/=]] [[/tab]] [[tab ███ ████]] [[=]] SCiPIAM Employee Database Username: ███████ Title: ███ Age: ██ Role: ██████████████ Access: ██████ Site History: 8 (Cur.) \| ██ Supervisor: █████████████ Unit: ████████ Disciplinary: ███████████ ##red\|Motive: N/A## ##red\|Evidence: N/A## ##red\|Alibi: N/A## SCiPIAM Employee Database [[/=]] [[/tab]] [[/tabview]] [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] ---- [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] "Do you believe him?" Stella queried. Their small group was now split into 3. Stella and Erin were sitting at a table, as far away from the body as possible. At the cafeteria door, Salazar and Al were attempting in vain to break the seal by force. Caleb remained near the electrical panel, gleefully scribbling something on a notepad. Stella stared at Erin. For having worked together for the better part of two years, she realized she didn't know much about them at all. She'd tried to get closer to them ever since they met on the advisory committee for that chain email cognitohazard, but never seemed to find the right words to say. //A life or death situation is as good a time as any to get to know someone, I suppose.// Her train of thought derailed as Erin began their answer. "His theory doesn't make any sense. We all saw the guy off himself. And even if it was something compulsive, the "murder weapons" don't line up with that. But..." Erin looked up. "It'll take a while before site security notices something's wrong. And even longer after that to bust down that door. Might as well play along for now." "Hm. I suppose there's no harm in it." There was a short silence. "Who do you think did it?" Stella asked, a bit too eagerly. Seeing Erin's shock, she backtracked. "I-I mean, hypothetically, of course." Erin didn't answer, but their eyes wandered to the door. [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] ---- [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] Salazar's boot connected again with the steel gate. "GOD! DAMNIT! MOVE!" He panted heavily, exhausted from the effort. Al put a hand on Salazar's shoulder and wordlessly offered him some water. Salazar gratefully took a swig. Al broke the silence. "We have to tell them." "No." "We can't just hide it forever." "Telling them will just cause more problems. The boy will take it as confirmation for his lunatic theory. And who knows what the other two will do with the information." "They're not stupid. They'll figure it out eventually, and then we'll look untrustworthy for hiding it." "Enough. We're not going to tell them about EIGENVECTOR." "Watch your tone. We're not at 36 anymore — I outrank you now." Salazar gritted his teeth. He leaned in closer to Al, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't forget I'm covering your ass about Aaron right now. If we're going to tell them about EIGENVECTOR, we might as well tell them just how well you knew //señor// corpse, no?" Al seethed at the threat, but no one would be told about MTF Mu-12's little eigenweapon today. [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] ---- [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] ... But Caleb already had a pretty good idea. The final, unrevealed anomaly tying everything together... some sort of top secret device — a literal plot device! He laughed at the thought. Everything was falling into place, and Caleb was in his element. He knew his giggling and note-taking made him look more suspicious, but he couldn't help it. It had taken years of scoffed-at patatheory, but he had finally entered the narrative. And he was about to tell one hell of a tale. [[=]] {{‎‎ }} [[/=]] [[=]] To be continued! \| Waiting Game >> [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=cheesybreezy]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-09T03:55:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The Punchline Is Murder - SCP Foundation	0	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1448369101	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-punchline-is-murder
the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling	<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%3Apenumbra/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Anorrack</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <div class="blockquote"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>The Ranger, the Draugr, and the Wyrmling</strong> (4836 words, 26 minute read)</span><br/> <span style="color: white"><strong>Author:</strong></span> <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=1728674580" 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>Made for the 12th art exchange for <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roundabouts" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6442733); return false;"><img alt="Roundabouts" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6442733&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728674580" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6442733)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/roundabouts" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6442733); return false;">Roundabouts</a></span>.</p> <p><a href="http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page">Author Page</a></p> <p><span style="color: white">Other articles you might enjoy:</span></p> <p><strong><a href="/dead-men-tell-tales">Dead Men Tell Tales</a>:</strong> <span style="color: white">A Miami beach-house in disarray. The police at a loss. The Governor is missing. And only Quinn Law can find him.</span></p> <p><strong><a href="/a-crooked-brow">A Crooked Brow</a>:</strong> <span style="color: white">The American Coast Guard battles the weather, the ocean, and the nuclear-powered whales in the freezing Bering Sea.</span></p> <p><strong><a href="/heavenly-body">Heavenly Body</a>:</strong> <span style="color: white">A couple explores the Alaska wilderness, and come into contact with something so much bigger than they expected.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <img alt="Hunter4.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Hunter4.png"/> <hr/> <p>The snap of a small branch alerted the bull, which cocked its massive head. Its towering rack caught the wind and swayed, dustings of snow falling from its palms. Its nostrils flared, and it took a curious step towards the source of the noise.</p> <h3 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: red"><strong>BANG</strong></span></span></h3> <p>The bull turned to flee, but stumbled. The hole perforating its collapsing lungs rapidly filled them with fluid, the gunshot a deathknell. The caribou took a step, another, but collapsed to the ground, the weight of the five-pronged rack burying its head in the berm.</p> <p>The hunter peered beyond their scope, waiting for the bull to move. It did not. They pushed themselves out of the crook of the root they had rested upon, crusts of snow calving from their fur-lined coat. They flicked on their headlamp and picked their way through the scrub to the body of the bull, much larger than the scope had implied.</p> <p>The bulky figure shoved their glove into their mouth, biting down on it to extract their hand from its confines. Trying to outrace the chill, the hunter patted down their pockets and withdrew a tape measure, notepad, and dull pencil. Measurements would be needed for the station.</p> <p>Five antlers, one hundred centimeter inside width between the normal pair. Twelve-point antlers, must weigh fifty pounds total. One hundred-fifty-five centimeters at the shoulder, larger than a moose yearling. A record-breaker if not for the Veil. Probably three hundreds pounds of good meat, if not for the regulations.</p> <p>Through the whistling wind, there was a distinct <em>whumph</em> of something large moving through the drifts, invisible through the growing blizzard. The hunter pocketed their materials and unslung their rifle. The headlamp's light diffracted through the snowfall, the sleet forming hypnotizing patterns in its descent. Then, through the white and black, a pair of green reflections stared back at the hunter. Eyes set too far apart to be a man's, and too high up to be a wolf's. The eyes spoke Finnish in a baritone that was more fit for a boulder than a creature.</p> <p>"<em>Tervehdys</em>, Oslo."</p> <p>Oslo lowered the rifle. A friend. "<em>Hyvää iltaa</em>, <em>Karhu</em>."</p> <p>"What is it today?"</p> <p>"Another Lysenkosen, crossed over the border in the storm, by the looks of it."</p> <p>Sharp teeth gleamed in the lamplight. "Looks young."</p> <p>"Ach. The <em>äpärä</em> wouldn't have lived long, not with that rack. Through this snow? Never would have saw spring."</p> <p>The savage maw blew steam. "Why not slaughter the herd?"</p> <p>"Paperwork. It's over the border, the Russians don't care."</p> <p>The eyes narrowed. The gravelly voice held a mirthful tone, as sharp as ice. "What magic you weave for yourselves."</p> <p>"Aye."</p> <p>It would have been quiet if not for the howling wind. "Do you need help finding your way, Oslo?"</p> <p>The hunter shook his head. "Parked my snow-machine over the ridge. Should be easy goings once I hit the trail."</p> <p>The eyes stared at him. "Safe travels, Oslo."</p> <p>"<em>Hyvää yötä</em>, Bear."</p> <p>The shadow congealed from the darkness, its yellow-brown fur encrusted with curtains of snow and ice. Its hide was matted with moss and sticks, inscribing patterns that most Finns had long forgotten. Where it traveled, the world seemed to tremble, snowflakes pausing their descent to watch Bear move, the wind quieting to hear it speak. Brown Bear was large, large enough that it was able to scoop the carcass into its jaws with little effort. As it arrived, it so departed, blending into the landscape and disappearing into the storm, taking the mutant caribou with it.</p> <p>Oslo blew through his nose to dislodge the build-up of ice, and made the sign of the cross. Better to be safe than sorry. He turned back and picked over the scrub, up the hill to his machine, half-buried in snow. The pull-cord was a bitch, the engine block cold and needing some motivation to wake up. But after some cursing and pulling, the two-stroke stirred to life, soon roaring across the open field towards home.</p> <hr/> <img alt="Fireplace3.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Fireplace3.png"/> <hr/> <p>"So, Oslo. How was hell?"</p> <p>Oslo's face and hands were pink, clutching a mug of some of the last good tea in the station. He was resting his bare feet on the wrought-iron wood stove for five-second intervals, lifting them off when the pain was too much and lowering them when the chill was too great. "Well enough. The caribou was easy to catch, but <em>Otso</em> took its tithe."</p> <p>"Would you rather your guts be his tithe?" Aliisa grinned, her green eyes deep-set in ruby-red cheeks. She was tapping away at the station's <em><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-brief-explanation-on-demonics">Hiisi</a></em> computer, filing the report on the Lysenkosen. The imps inside the clear-blue plastic shell got antsy during the winter, so the electronics took the best spot next to the fireplace, much to Oslo's consternation.</p> <p>"Hrmph. Should get hazard pay for that blizzard. Don't get paid enough as-is without risk of a storm or Bear doing me in."</p> <p>"But the government pension," Aliisa said in a sing-song voice.</p> <p>"Hrmph." Oslo stretched, nearly spilling his tea in the process. "Probably being embezzled as we speak."</p> <p>SETK was not a tightly run ship, by any means. From the restructuring by the Rockefeller Foundation, stipulations for joining JOVE, and especially the policy requirements to join the GOC, the Finnish Abnormal Interactions Command was a colossal, tottering giant of bureaucracy. Which is why they were stuck with a wood-burning stove and a computational relic from the 80s. Oslo hadn't been able to wrap his head around the forms required to requisition more modern equipment.</p> <p>"Don't even know why we're here. We have satellites that can track the herd. Satellites!"</p> <p>Aliisa leaned over to pat Oslo on the knee. "But then who would go out to shoot the caribou once a week?"</p> <p>"Get <em>Karhu</em> to do it, it could probably shoot a rifle if it tried hard enough."</p> <p>"Would he, now?"</p> <p>Oslo tried to maintain a straight face, but looking at Aliisa's dry smirk was enough to send both of them over the edge into gales of laughter. Each time they would almost quiet down, a peek at the reddened face of the other would make them descend into a fit of giggles again. "Gods, could you <em>imagine.</em>"</p> <p>Aliisa wiped a tear from her eye and put on a fake pondering face, a pencil to her chin. "How <em>big</em> of a rifle would Bear need?"</p> <p>His chill forgotten, Oslo stood behind Aliisa's chair and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, well Bear is a big boy, so it would only need a small rifle to get the job done."</p> <p>Aliisa's mouth quirked and she brushed Oslo's arm, her touch electric against his skin. "That doesn't make any sense, with a small gun Bear couldn't put his claw on the trigger."</p> <p>"Hrmph. Well, I know somebody who needs a big rifle-" Oslo's snark turned into a yelp as Aliisa lunged out her chair and lifted him off of his feet, her smirk widening into a grin as she looked down on Oslo with her extra head of height.</p> <p>"Who? Is it Bear?"</p> <p>Oslo's cheeks were no longer red from just the cold. "No?"</p> <p>"Who is it, then?"</p> <p>His confidence fled, leaving him only a stammer. "Uh, I don't know?"</p> <p>Aliisa's grin turned feral as she pivoted towards the bedroom, holding Oslo in a bridal carry. "I think I know who is, <em>Oslo.</em>"</p> <p>Oslo's blush spread to his ears. He nestled his cheek into Aliisa's collarbone, just beginning to close his eyes — with no thought of requisition forms or caribou hunts in his head — when a knock on the door destroyed any thought of a warm bed.</p> <p>Aliisa dropped Oslo to the floor, and he grabbed the rifle with a snarl. "I <em>swear</em> if it's another surprise inspector I will kill him on the spot."</p> <p>Oslo stalked over to the door, and looked through the peephole. There was nothing but dancing snow and undisturbed drifts as the evening blizzard raged outside.</p> <p>He furrowed his brow, and looked over to Aliisa. "You heard that too, right?"</p> <p>Aliisa shrugged, looking out the window before drawing the curtain closed. "It's the winter solstice. Strange things happen on the longest night of the year."</p> <p>"Strange things happen to us most nights, it seems."</p> <p>Her sly smirk reappeared. "Say an additional prayer before we go to bed, then."</p> <p>The rapping sounded once more. Oslo opened the door, the frigid air slamming him in the face.</p> <p>This time, twin hollow pits gazed into Oslo's soul. Papery, crinkled skin trapped snowflakes in the creases, and webbings of frost glazed exposed bone and rusted metal. A corroded sword hung bare by its side — the leather scabbard long since decayed away — and an axe slung across its back, the wood handle cracked and petrified. A crown of dried flowers was placed upon its brow, basil upon its tongue. The draugr filled the doorway, the skeletal remnants of a warrior seven feet tall and four feet wide. Its breath smelt of death.</p> <p>Oslo tried not to breath through his nose and slowly hid the rifle behind his back. "<em>Hyvää iltaa</em>, Sir."</p> <p>The rotted warrior was quiet, the wind whistling through the holes in its armor.</p> <p>Oslo tried again, a more polite tone in his voice. "What did you go by in life, good Sir?"</p> <p>The draugr cracked its jaw, and Oslo could see its dried vocal cords <em>thrum</em> in its throat as it spoke surprisingly bassy, melodic Old Norse. "I am <em>Thegn</em> Aghi Split-Shield, Trekker of Wilds and Slayer of Rus, whom has traveled further east than any of my kin shall ever see. I have witnessed the mountains eat the sun, the firmament quake under Wodin's wrath. I dispense justice with one hand and blood-stained war with the other. I am holder of Things, breaker of Khans, bane of Christendom, and protector of Men."</p> <p>All was quiet but for the crackling of the fireplace and the moaning of the wind.</p> <p>Aliisa leaned over Oslo's shoulder. "Would you like to come in and have some tea, then? It's getting rather drafty with the door open."</p> <p>Aghi's jaw closed with an audible click. A pause. "Yes, I would like that."</p> <hr/> <p>"So, Aghi, what brings you to our door?"</p> <p>Oslo watched jealously as Aghi Split-Shield, undead warrior and statesman, delicately sipped the last good tea in the station, savoring every drop on his desiccated tongue. <em>What a waste, he probably can't even taste it. Probably.</em></p> <p>The draugr rumbled. "I was disturbed from my promised eternity by intruders in my barrow. And awoke to find a couple had constructed a hovel upon my tomb."</p> <p>Oslo's mouth suddenly felt dry. "We didn't know there had been Norse habitation in this region, so SETK didn't think to check…"</p> <p>Aliisa leaned back in her chair. "Got to admit, does explain the hill in the middle of the meadow."</p> <p>The draugr sipped the tea again, the liquid going gods-know where. Oslo eyed the weapons it held. They were rusted, but looked heavy enough to do damage. "We are sorry for, ah, dancing on your grave, so to speak. If there is anything we can do to help you find rest-"</p> <p>Aghi stood suddenly, clasping a skeletal hand on Oslo's shoulder. "But of course, my freedman. You can slay the wyrmling!"</p> <p>Oslo blinked. "Wyrmling?"</p> <p>"Indeed! The rotted creature that is squatting within my tomb right now! The entire reason I was roused from my sleep! Kill it for me!"</p> <p>Aliisa frowned. "Do we have a permit to bag a dragon?"</p> <p>Oslo really needed a sip of that tea, even if the lips of a draugr had touched it. His mouth was growing increasingly similar in texture to the Sahara, and his voice came out in a squeak. "We have a dragon in our basement?"</p> <p>Aliisa was confused, and stated the obvious. "Why do we need to slay it? You have a sword and axe."</p> <p>The draugr shrugged. "It breathes fire," as if that was enough of an explanation. Though upon glancing at the bubbled skin and burnt armor of Aghi's back, maybe it was.</p> <p>"Didn't know we had dragons this far north, either."</p> <p>"It is foreign to these lands."</p> <p>Oslo leaned forwards, interested now. "How do you know that? Were you a monster hunter in your youth?"</p> <p>The draugr fixed his gaze upon Oslo. "It spoke Welsh." The venom carried in those three words made Oslo reconsider drinking that tea.</p> <p>Aliisa and Oslo glanced at each other, coming to the same conclusion. If they did this, the frostbitten zombie is more likely to leave than not. Otherwise, the longest night of the year would be ruined by an undead third wheel. Oslo nodded slowly, considering. "Aliisa, invasive myths are exempt from hunting permits, right?"</p> <p>Aliisa had already disappeared into the bedroom to take inventory. "Yeah, but only non-sapients."</p> <p>Oslo stroked his sparse beard, pondering. "So unless we could prove this wyrmling has the intelligence of a parrot, we've got nothing."</p> <p>Aliisa's voice echoed over the sound of rummaging gear. "Well, it looks like we still have two tranquilizer darts left from the Čahkalakkat hunt last spring, how much does that wyrmling weigh, do you think?"</p> <p>A plan coalesced in Oslo’s mind, and it was shabby, but doable. He clapped his hands to his thighs and rose to his feet "Alright, we'll do it. But we're going to knock it unconscious, not kill it, if only to save us the headache later in red tape. Is that clear?"</p> <p>Aghi stared unblinking into Oslo's eyes, as his own lids had rotted away centuries before. "Aye, that'll<br/> do."</p> <hr/> <img alt="Blizzard.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Blizzard.png"/> <hr/> <p>The storm had grown substantially, and the snowfall intensified to white-out conditions. The fresh precipitation built up around the cabin, threatening to snow them in entirely if they didn’t move fast. Aliisa unspooled the winch next to the doorframe and clipped the line to carabiners on Aghi, Oslo, and herself. In a record blizzard like this one, straying just a few feet from each other could mean total separation, likely hypothermia, and death. For two of them, anyways.</p> <p>If it weren’t for the storm, the moon would be visible hanging directly overhead, its full body lighting the way. Now, it was nothing but a witness to a suffocating blanket of clouds and snow. On the ground, the cabin was shrouded in darkness, the light leaking from the windows dissipating in the blizzard as if blocked by an icy wall.</p> <p>“Do you know the way?” Oslo had to shout to be heard over the screeching wind, which tore through his parka and long-johns to penetrate right to the bone.</p> <p>The draugr nodded, the ice caught in his beard glittered from the headlamps and the scarlet red of a borrowed road flare. He tread forward at a list against the wind, Oslo and Aliisa following along the played-out line. It only took a few moments for Aghi and his long stride to disappear completely into the gray, the only evidence of his remaining existence being the slight vibration of the wire clipped to their belts, and the dull red glow of the draugr’s improvised torch.</p> <p>In that environment it was near impossible to think, much less see, hear, or hold a civilized conversation. In those conditions it was easy to get inside your own head, which Oslo did almost immediately. It was entirely possible Aghi was leading them to their mutual demises, left to freeze in the arctic dunes as the draugr claimed their lives in the name of General Frost. <em>Faith. Have faith.</em> Oslo adjusted the strap of the rifle, one hand on the wire.</p> <p>On a whim, he looked behind along the line, and couldn’t see Aliisa. Not even a silhouette was visible through the narrow cone of light of his headlamp. The only thing it lit was the darting flecks of sleet, specks of light floating in the black void that surrounded him. It was like he was lost in the vacuum of space, surrounded by cold, flickering stars. This environment could make a man go mad from the isolation, from the sheer emptiness.</p> <p>Oslo stumbled on, hoping she was behind him somewhere. <em>Faith.</em> “Aliisa?” No response, his hoarse cry was lost in the damping snow as he trudged onwards.</p> <p>“Aliisa!”</p> <p>The vibration of the wire stopped. He couldn’t hear anything, see anything, feel anything but the screaming and the blinding and the biting of the storm and cold and wind. Quick breaths froze his throat and lungs, and Oslo felt icy bands constrict his ribs. <em>Bad idea, bad idea.</em></p> <p>“Aliisa!”</p> <p>His face was smashed as he slammed into something, something that for all the world felt like a slab of frozen steak. Aghi’s eyeless gaze met Oslo’s, his orbits filling with snow and ice. The harsh glare of the bright flare burnt spots into Oslo’s vision. “We are here.”</p> <p>Oslo heard the sound of tromping snow moments before he felt a mitten touch his back. “It’s okay. It’s okay, honey. I just tripped and lagged back a little.”</p> <p>The ranger relaxed, if only slightly. Oslo peered around the draugr’s bulk, seeing a hole penetrating into the hill, punching through the snow-drift, soil, hewed rock, and finally to air on the other side. He looked up the slope, but their cabin was lost in the blizzard.</p> <p>“You dug this, Aghi?”</p> <p>The warlord shook his head, ice crystals in his braided beard rattling against metal plate. “The wyrmling tunneled through first, I widened the hole with my own hands to escape its bitings.”</p> <p>Oslo eyed Aghi’s digits, bare of everything but bone, and decided to say nothing.</p> <p>The draugr knelt upon his aged knees, and crawled into the hole. Aliisa pulled the cord, confirming slack, before giving Oslo a tight, encouraging smile. He nodded, set his jaw, and clambered after Aghi.</p> <p>The hole was a tight squeeze, especially with his rifle, taken <em>just</em> in case the wyrmling tried something. But without too much of his coat torn by the roughly-stacked rocks, Oslo was able to quickly push himself to the other side.</p> <p>He was first surprised by the temperature, then by the size of the barrow. The mix of soil and snow insulated the tomb, keeping the temperature well above freezing. Melting ice dripped down from small holes in the walls, creating puddles on the packed-dirt floor. The ceiling of the barrow was just within his reach, but just barely. More roomy than the cramped crawl-space that he had envisioned underneath the cabin.</p> <p>The barrow was narrow but large, build like the long-houses that Aghi lived in life millenia ago. There were alcoves built into the stone walls, where there must have been small trinkets and offerings placed in Aghi’s honor, now held nothing but rock-dust. The far end of the barrow was shrouded in shadow, but must have held Aghi’s final resting place and, now, the wyrmling.</p> <p>There was a scratching, scuffling sound as Aliisa was birthed from the tunnel. Oslo bent to help her to her feet, brushing the dirt from her parka as she unslung her tranq-rifle. Aliisa pulled back her hood and blew a stray hair out of her her face. “Alright, where’s the lizard, Aghi?”</p> <p>Aghi unsheathed his axe and pointed at the far end of the barrow, the head of the axe held unwavering in the harsh light of the flare. “It took my ship for its own, lounging upon mine grave goods like a wretched miser.” The draugr raised the flare, and revealed twin orbs of light, reflecting the scarlet of the light. The eyes of the wyrmling swayed in the darkness, and let out a threatening hiss.</p> <p>Oslo shuffled forward, rifle held at the ready. His headlamp first revealed the steps of a plinth, then the pitted, aged wood of the grave-ship’s hull, then finally the pale belly of the wyrmling.</p> <p>The wyrmling was more akin to a snake than a dragon. Small for such a legendary creature, its lithe, long body only possessed two limbs, with two sets of talons gripping the splintered edge of the boat, and the rest of its trunk perched upon a carelessly stacked mound of Aghi’s grave goods — carefully folded bits of rotted clothing, rusted implements of farming and war, and dessicated bags of spice. The wyrmling’s long, pointed ears lay flat against its head and its club-tipped tongue danced in the air as it hissed at the trio. The creature spat something in Welsh, presumed to be very rude.</p> <p>Aliisa raised her hands in supplication, slowly approaching the creature. “Hey, little guy. We just want to talk-” She was interrupted by a furious berserker scream from Aghi, who charged the wyrmling with axe in hand.</p> <p>“God damn it all, Aghi.”</p> <p>“You desecrate my tomb! You sleep in my ship! You piss on my stuff!” The undead Viking let out a furious roar, unblemished by centuries of sleep, and brought his axe down with the swiftness of a guillotine. The serpentine dragon retorted with an ear-splitting shriek, its fangs glistening with bile and venom as it snapped and clawed at Aghi’s arms, exposing bloodless flesh the color of fish meat.</p> <p>“Shoot it, Aliisa!”</p> <p>“I’m trying, sweetie,” Aliisa hissed through gritted teeth. The draugr had dropped the flare in his bloodlust, which cast harsh, flickering shadows on the battle, rendering their forms monstrous and twisted. The slender, twisting figure of the wyrmling doubled the difficulty.</p> <p>Aliisa’s gloved hand squeezed the trigger. <em>Pfump</em>. The pneumatic canister in the rifle activated, and the tranquilizer dart shot from the barrel like a speeding bullet. The dart struck against the metallic hide of the wyrmling and shattered, splattering the fluid against itself and Aghi.</p> <p>The wyrmling screeched and reared back on its sinuous tail until its head scraped the ceiling, spreading its wings in a threatening display that stretched the width of the barrow and then some. In the guttering light of the flare, the wings were as transluscent as glass, the delicate skein of veins and muscles visible through the leathery membrane, pulsing in time with its throbbing heart.</p> <p>Aliisa lowered the rifle. “Shit.”</p> <p>Aghi drew his sword, his axe dripping blood in his other hand. A tooth that lay shattered on the ground vibrated and flew back into his gums, magnetically attracted to his cursed aura. “Do not worry, <em>ergi</em>s. I will slay this wretched beeeaa-”</p> <p>The warrior’s voice was cut off as the wyrmling lunged forwards, wrapping itself around him like a snake from hell. With a single clap of its wings, both Aghi and the wyrmling disappeared in a cloud of dust and crumbling rock, leaving Oslo and Aliisa sputtering and coughing.</p> <p>Oslo’s head was pounding, as he had been knocked flat against the wall by the blast, his headlamp shattered against the stone. He cracked his neck and with a groan pulled himself off of a spur of jutting rock, crawling over to Aliisa, covered with dust. “Are you alright, honey?”</p> <p>A glove reached up to gently pat Oslo’s face. “I can see you.”</p> <p>“Okay, good. Good. You’re not blind, that’s good news.”</p> <p>“No, Oslo. I can see you. How can I see you?”</p> <p>Oslo frowned. Their headlamps were dead, and the road flare was buried in dust. He looked up, to a beacon of light that shone overhead, where the wyrmling had flew up and burrowed straight through rock…</p> <p>Straight into their cabin.</p> <hr/> <p>Oslo and Aliisa burst through the cabin door and didn’t bother to shut it behind them, followed by a few flakes from the storm that still raged outside. The couple turned from the door, only to be met by carnage. The stovepipe had been shattered by an axeblade, pouring smoke into the cabin. The couch had been torn to shreds by wyrmling claws, steaming from the talons’ toxins. The old <em>Hiisi</em> laid sparking in a pool of spilled tea, small, dark tendrils escaping from its hard casing and wriggling into the floorboards. Gashes and scorch-marks marred the log walls, and blood spattered across the ceiling. In the center of it all, the two monsters duked it out, the epic fight devolved into an unglorious wrestling match. The wyrmling was wrapped around Aghi’s torso — splintering his ribs like toothpicks — while its neck was being throttled by his bare hands, his bare phlanges squeezing through its scales with the force of hydraulic presses. Aghi’s weapons were tossed into the corner, discarded and forgotten.</p> <p>Oslo’s mouth gaped, unable to fully process the boil of emotions that filled him looking at his crappy cabin. <em>Why are they messing up this shithole of a cabin. This is</em> our <em>shithole of a cabin.</em> After a second of hesitation, his brain finally decided on anger, and he unslung his rifle. Oslo aimed through a shattered window and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the cabin, and stunned the two fighters, who craned their necks to look up at the ranger.</p> <p>He stalked forwards, pointing a finger at the wyrmling. “You, why did you squat in Aghi’s barrow?”</p> <p>The creature flapped its jaws, momentarily speechless. It blinked, and composed itself enough to spit out some Welsh.</p> <p>Oslo looked to Aliisa, who shrugged, and they both turned to Aghi. Aghi removed a hand from the wyrmling’s neck to scratch his temple, peeling off some skin in the process. “It says it needs a hoard, and all others had already been claimed from here to London.”</p> <p>Oslo turned back towards the wyrmling. “You do realize most of that stuff is worth just sentimental value, right? You can find higher-quality clothing in any store in Europe, and most of Aghi’s coins are just corroded scrap by now.”</p> <p>The wyrmling blinked again. What little was left of Aghi’s lips pursed and soured.</p> <p>The ranger sighed, looking to Aliisa. She nodded her head, encouragingly. Oslo sighed once more and pulled out his wallet, fingering fifty markaa. Oslo held the money out with an open palm. “Here, go invest this in the stock market, or something. Consider this an investment of sorts, or a bribe. I don’t really care. Just leave Aghi and his stuff alone, please.”</p> <p>Aghi and the wyrmling looked at Oslo, then at each other, then at the money. The two gingerly untangled, and slowly put distance between each other. Making sure that Aghi had scuttled across the floor far enough away, the wyrmling slowly approached Oslo, its eyes narrowed and distrustful. It sniffed the money, and cocked its head, letting out a small chirrup. It reached out with a claw and grabbed the money, scurrying away and in one smooth motion leapt out the broken window, its wings outstretched. The wyrmling’s silhouette was quickly swallowed by the storm.</p> <p>Aliisa looked at Aghi, hands on her hips. “Well? You happy?”</p> <p>The draugr stood and stared out the window, teeth clicking in consternation. “The wyrmling is gone,” he reluctantly admitted.</p> <p>Aliisa pointed to the hole in the living room. “Go back to sleep.”</p> <p>Aghi looked like he was about to talk back, but Aliisa’s expression brooked no argument. He let out a death-rattle, and clambered back into his barrow.</p> <p>As the two supernatural creatures took their leave, Oslo and Aliisa had to take stock in their situation. They stared at the carnage wreaked in the living room. The twisted metal stovepipe leaking smoke, the broken window, hole in the floor, and shattered, sparking computer that laid in pieces on the ground made for a stark setting. Oslo's mouth was dry from dread, and he yelped when Aliisa slapped him on the back. "What?!"</p> <p>Aliisa's sweet cherubic smile was lent an air of menace by her words. "At least now you have no excuse with working on those requisition forms."</p> <hr/> <p>The stovepipe was straightened and reassembled as best as possible, and a spare sheet of particle board was salvaged from the woodshed outside to cover the newly-made downstairs entrance. Oslo swept up the glass and broken instruments, while Aliisa placed planks over the broken window. The room almost looked presentable when they were finished.</p> <p>Oslo sat on the bed, exhausted. He barely had enough energy to strip to his long-johns. Aliisa crawled over the mattress and into the covers, snuggling up against him. “What a day, huh?”</p> <p>Oslo looked down at her and smiled. “Yeah.”</p> <p>They listened to the wind rattle and drum against the windows and roof. Oslo would have to shovel the snow off the tin roof tomorrow, half a meter, minimum. But he wasn’t thinking about that now.</p> <p>“What do we do now, Aliisa?”</p> <p>Aliisa’s mouth quirked. God, he loved that smile. “What else do couples do on the longest night of the year?”</p> <p>Oslo felt a dopey grin grow across his face. He closed his eyes, and leaned into Aliisa, his lips brushing her cheek. Her head grew heavier resting on his shoulder, eyes closed. She had fallen asleep in seconds.</p> <p>His smile was softer, now. Oslo relaxed, winding his fingers through Aliisa’s hair as he listened to the storm rage outside, her body warm and soft as it pressed up against him.</p> <p>Maybe the job wasn’t <em>that</em> bad.</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-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling">The Ranger, the Draugr, and the Wyrmling</a>" by Anorrack, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling">https://scpwiki.com/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling</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> Blizzard.png<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=1728674580" 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><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Blizzard.png">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Fireplace3.png<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=1728674580" 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><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Fireplace3.png">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Hunter4.png<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=1728674580" 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><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Hunter4.png">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:penumbra">:scp-wiki:theme:penumbra</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]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ##white\|The Ranger, the Draugr, and the Wyrmling (4836 words, 26 minute read)## ##white\|Author:## [[user Anorrack]] Made for the 12th art exchange for [[user Roundabouts]]. [[[http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page\|Author Page]]] ##white\|Other articles you might enjoy:## [[[dead-men-tell-tales\|Dead Men Tell Tales]]]:##white\| A Miami beach-house in disarray. The police at a loss. The Governor is missing. And only Quinn Law can find him.## [[[A Crooked Brow]]]: ##white\|The American Coast Guard battles the weather, the ocean, and the nuclear-powered whales in the freezing Bering Sea.## [[[Heavenly Body]]]: ##white\|A couple explores the Alaska wilderness, and come into contact with something so much bigger than they expected.## [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Hunter4.png]] ------ The snap of a small branch alerted the bull, which cocked its massive head. Its towering rack caught the wind and swayed, dustings of snow falling from its palms. Its nostrils flared, and it took a curious step towards the source of the noise. +++ ##red\|BANG## The bull turned to flee, but stumbled. The hole perforating its collapsing lungs rapidly filled them with fluid, the gunshot a deathknell. The caribou took a step, another, but collapsed to the ground, the weight of the five-pronged rack burying its head in the berm. The hunter peered beyond their scope, waiting for the bull to move. It did not. They pushed themselves out of the crook of the root they had rested upon, crusts of snow calving from their fur-lined coat. They flicked on their headlamp and picked their way through the scrub to the body of the bull, much larger than the scope had implied. The bulky figure shoved their glove into their mouth, biting down on it to extract their hand from its confines. Trying to outrace the chill, the hunter patted down their pockets and withdrew a tape measure, notepad, and dull pencil. Measurements would be needed for the station. Five antlers, one hundred centimeter inside width between the normal pair. Twelve-point antlers, must weigh fifty pounds total. One hundred-fifty-five centimeters at the shoulder, larger than a moose yearling. A record-breaker if not for the Veil. Probably three hundreds pounds of good meat, if not for the regulations. Through the whistling wind, there was a distinct //whumph// of something large moving through the drifts, invisible through the growing blizzard. The hunter pocketed their materials and unslung their rifle. The headlamp's light diffracted through the snowfall, the sleet forming hypnotizing patterns in its descent. Then, through the white and black, a pair of green reflections stared back at the hunter. Eyes set too far apart to be a man's, and too high up to be a wolf's. The eyes spoke Finnish in a baritone that was more fit for a boulder than a creature. "//Tervehdys//, Oslo." Oslo lowered the rifle. A friend. "//Hyvää iltaa//, //Karhu//." "What is it today?" "Another Lysenkosen, crossed over the border in the storm, by the looks of it." Sharp teeth gleamed in the lamplight. "Looks young." "Ach. The //äpärä// wouldn't have lived long, not with that rack. Through this snow? Never would have saw spring." The savage maw blew steam. "Why not slaughter the herd?" "Paperwork. It's over the border, the Russians don't care." The eyes narrowed. The gravelly voice held a mirthful tone, as sharp as ice. "What magic you weave for yourselves." "Aye." It would have been quiet if not for the howling wind. "Do you need help finding your way, Oslo?" The hunter shook his head. "Parked my snow-machine over the ridge. Should be easy goings once I hit the trail." The eyes stared at him. "Safe travels, Oslo." "//Hyvää yötä//, Bear." The shadow congealed from the darkness, its yellow-brown fur encrusted with curtains of snow and ice. Its hide was matted with moss and sticks, inscribing patterns that most Finns had long forgotten. Where it traveled, the world seemed to tremble, snowflakes pausing their descent to watch Bear move, the wind quieting to hear it speak. Brown Bear was large, large enough that it was able to scoop the carcass into its jaws with little effort. As it arrived, it so departed, blending into the landscape and disappearing into the storm, taking the mutant caribou with it. Oslo blew through his nose to dislodge the build-up of ice, and made the sign of the cross. Better to be safe than sorry. He turned back and picked over the scrub, up the hill to his machine, half-buried in snow. The pull-cord was a bitch, the engine block cold and needing some motivation to wake up. But after some cursing and pulling, the two-stroke stirred to life, soon roaring across the open field towards home. ------ [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Fireplace3.png]] ------ "So, Oslo. How was hell?" Oslo's face and hands were pink, clutching a mug of some of the last good tea in the station. He was resting his bare feet on the wrought-iron wood stove for five-second intervals, lifting them off when the pain was too much and lowering them when the chill was too great. "Well enough. The caribou was easy to catch, but //Otso// took its tithe." "Would you rather your guts be his tithe?" Aliisa grinned, her green eyes deep-set in ruby-red cheeks. She was tapping away at the station's //[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-brief-explanation-on-demonics Hiisi]// computer, filing the report on the Lysenkosen. The imps inside the clear-blue plastic shell got antsy during the winter, so the electronics took the best spot next to the fireplace, much to Oslo's consternation. "Hrmph. Should get hazard pay for that blizzard. Don't get paid enough as-is without risk of a storm or Bear doing me in." "But the government pension," Aliisa said in a sing-song voice. "Hrmph." Oslo stretched, nearly spilling his tea in the process. "Probably being embezzled as we speak." SETK was not a tightly run ship, by any means. From the restructuring by the Rockefeller Foundation, stipulations for joining JOVE, and especially the policy requirements to join the GOC, the Finnish Abnormal Interactions Command was a colossal, tottering giant of bureaucracy. Which is why they were stuck with a wood-burning stove and a computational relic from the 80s. Oslo hadn't been able to wrap his head around the forms required to requisition more modern equipment. "Don't even know why we're here. We have satellites that can track the herd. Satellites!" Aliisa leaned over to pat Oslo on the knee. "But then who would go out to shoot the caribou once a week?" "Get //Karhu// to do it, it could probably shoot a rifle if it tried hard enough." "Would he, now?" Oslo tried to maintain a straight face, but looking at Aliisa's dry smirk was enough to send both of them over the edge into gales of laughter. Each time they would almost quiet down, a peek at the reddened face of the other would make them descend into a fit of giggles again. "Gods, could you //imagine.//" Aliisa wiped a tear from her eye and put on a fake pondering face, a pencil to her chin. "How //big// of a rifle would Bear need?" His chill forgotten, Oslo stood behind Aliisa's chair and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, well Bear is a big boy, so it would only need a small rifle to get the job done." Aliisa's mouth quirked and she brushed Oslo's arm, her touch electric against his skin. "That doesn't make any sense, with a small gun Bear couldn't put his claw on the trigger." "Hrmph. Well, I know somebody who needs a big rifle-" Oslo's snark turned into a yelp as Aliisa lunged out her chair and lifted him off of his feet, her smirk widening into a grin as she looked down on Oslo with her extra head of height. "Who? Is it Bear?" Oslo's cheeks were no longer red from just the cold. "No?" "Who is it, then?" His confidence fled, leaving him only a stammer. "Uh, I don't know?" Aliisa's grin turned feral as she pivoted towards the bedroom, holding Oslo in a bridal carry. "I think I know who is, //Oslo.//" Oslo's blush spread to his ears. He nestled his cheek into Aliisa's collarbone, just beginning to close his eyes — with no thought of requisition forms or caribou hunts in his head — when a knock on the door destroyed any thought of a warm bed. Aliisa dropped Oslo to the floor, and he grabbed the rifle with a snarl. "I //swear// if it's another surprise inspector I will kill him on the spot." Oslo stalked over to the door, and looked through the peephole. There was nothing but dancing snow and undisturbed drifts as the evening blizzard raged outside. He furrowed his brow, and looked over to Aliisa. "You heard that too, right?" Aliisa shrugged, looking out the window before drawing the curtain closed. "It's the winter solstice. Strange things happen on the longest night of the year." "Strange things happen to us most nights, it seems." Her sly smirk reappeared. "Say an additional prayer before we go to bed, then." The rapping sounded once more. Oslo opened the door, the frigid air slamming him in the face. This time, twin hollow pits gazed into Oslo's soul. Papery, crinkled skin trapped snowflakes in the creases, and webbings of frost glazed exposed bone and rusted metal. A corroded sword hung bare by its side — the leather scabbard long since decayed away — and an axe slung across its back, the wood handle cracked and petrified. A crown of dried flowers was placed upon its brow, basil upon its tongue. The draugr filled the doorway, the skeletal remnants of a warrior seven feet tall and four feet wide. Its breath smelt of death. Oslo tried not to breath through his nose and slowly hid the rifle behind his back. "//Hyvää iltaa//, Sir." The rotted warrior was quiet, the wind whistling through the holes in its armor. Oslo tried again, a more polite tone in his voice. "What did you go by in life, good Sir?" The draugr cracked its jaw, and Oslo could see its dried vocal cords //thrum// in its throat as it spoke surprisingly bassy, melodic Old Norse. "I am //Thegn// Aghi Split-Shield, Trekker of Wilds and Slayer of Rus, whom has traveled further east than any of my kin shall ever see. I have witnessed the mountains eat the sun, the firmament quake under Wodin's wrath. I dispense justice with one hand and blood-stained war with the other. I am holder of Things, breaker of Khans, bane of Christendom, and protector of Men." All was quiet but for the crackling of the fireplace and the moaning of the wind. Aliisa leaned over Oslo's shoulder. "Would you like to come in and have some tea, then? It's getting rather drafty with the door open." Aghi's jaw closed with an audible click. A pause. "Yes, I would like that." ------- "So, Aghi, what brings you to our door?" Oslo watched jealously as Aghi Split-Shield, undead warrior and statesman, delicately sipped the last good tea in the station, savoring every drop on his desiccated tongue. //What a waste, he probably can't even taste it. Probably.// The draugr rumbled. "I was disturbed from my promised eternity by intruders in my barrow. And awoke to find a couple had constructed a hovel upon my tomb." Oslo's mouth suddenly felt dry. "We didn't know there had been Norse habitation in this region, so SETK didn't think to check..." Aliisa leaned back in her chair. "Got to admit, does explain the hill in the middle of the meadow." The draugr sipped the tea again, the liquid going gods-know where. Oslo eyed the weapons it held. They were rusted, but looked heavy enough to do damage. "We are sorry for, ah, dancing on your grave, so to speak. If there is anything we can do to help you find rest-" Aghi stood suddenly, clasping a skeletal hand on Oslo's shoulder. "But of course, my freedman. You can slay the wyrmling!" Oslo blinked. "Wyrmling?" "Indeed! The rotted creature that is squatting within my tomb right now! The entire reason I was roused from my sleep! Kill it for me!" Aliisa frowned. "Do we have a permit to bag a dragon?" Oslo really needed a sip of that tea, even if the lips of a draugr had touched it. His mouth was growing increasingly similar in texture to the Sahara, and his voice came out in a squeak. "We have a dragon in our basement?" Aliisa was confused, and stated the obvious. "Why do we need to slay it? You have a sword and axe." The draugr shrugged. "It breathes fire," as if that was enough of an explanation. Though upon glancing at the bubbled skin and burnt armor of Aghi's back, maybe it was. "Didn't know we had dragons this far north, either." "It is foreign to these lands." Oslo leaned forwards, interested now. "How do you know that? Were you a monster hunter in your youth?" The draugr fixed his gaze upon Oslo. "It spoke Welsh." The venom carried in those three words made Oslo reconsider drinking that tea. Aliisa and Oslo glanced at each other, coming to the same conclusion. If they did this, the frostbitten zombie is more likely to leave than not. Otherwise, the longest night of the year would be ruined by an undead third wheel. Oslo nodded slowly, considering. "Aliisa, invasive myths are exempt from hunting permits, right?" Aliisa had already disappeared into the bedroom to take inventory. "Yeah, but only non-sapients." Oslo stroked his sparse beard, pondering. "So unless we could prove this wyrmling has the intelligence of a parrot, we've got nothing." Aliisa's voice echoed over the sound of rummaging gear. "Well, it looks like we still have two tranquilizer darts left from the Čahkalakkat hunt last spring, how much does that wyrmling weigh, do you think?" A plan coalesced in Oslo’s mind, and it was shabby, but doable. He clapped his hands to his thighs and rose to his feet "Alright, we'll do it. But we're going to knock it unconscious, not kill it, if only to save us the headache later in red tape. Is that clear?" Aghi stared unblinking into Oslo's eyes, as his own lids had rotted away centuries before. "Aye, that'll do." ------ [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Blizzard.png]] ------ The storm had grown substantially, and the snowfall intensified to white-out conditions. The fresh precipitation built up around the cabin, threatening to snow them in entirely if they didn’t move fast. Aliisa unspooled the winch next to the doorframe and clipped the line to carabiners on Aghi, Oslo, and herself. In a record blizzard like this one, straying just a few feet from each other could mean total separation, likely hypothermia, and death. For two of them, anyways. If it weren’t for the storm, the moon would be visible hanging directly overhead, its full body lighting the way. Now, it was nothing but a witness to a suffocating blanket of clouds and snow. On the ground, the cabin was shrouded in darkness, the light leaking from the windows dissipating in the blizzard as if blocked by an icy wall. “Do you know the way?” Oslo had to shout to be heard over the screeching wind, which tore through his parka and long-johns to penetrate right to the bone. The draugr nodded, the ice caught in his beard glittered from the headlamps and the scarlet red of a borrowed road flare. He tread forward at a list against the wind, Oslo and Aliisa following along the played-out line. It only took a few moments for Aghi and his long stride to disappear completely into the gray, the only evidence of his remaining existence being the slight vibration of the wire clipped to their belts, and the dull red glow of the draugr’s improvised torch. In that environment it was near impossible to think, much less see, hear, or hold a civilized conversation. In those conditions it was easy to get inside your own head, which Oslo did almost immediately. It was entirely possible Aghi was leading them to their mutual demises, left to freeze in the arctic dunes as the draugr claimed their lives in the name of General Frost. //Faith. Have faith.// Oslo adjusted the strap of the rifle, one hand on the wire. On a whim, he looked behind along the line, and couldn’t see Aliisa. Not even a silhouette was visible through the narrow cone of light of his headlamp. The only thing it lit was the darting flecks of sleet, specks of light floating in the black void that surrounded him. It was like he was lost in the vacuum of space, surrounded by cold, flickering stars. This environment could make a man go mad from the isolation, from the sheer emptiness. Oslo stumbled on, hoping she was behind him somewhere. //Faith.// “Aliisa?” No response, his hoarse cry was lost in the damping snow as he trudged onwards. “Aliisa!” The vibration of the wire stopped. He couldn’t hear anything, see anything, feel anything but the screaming and the blinding and the biting of the storm and cold and wind. Quick breaths froze his throat and lungs, and Oslo felt icy bands constrict his ribs. //Bad idea, bad idea.// “Aliisa!” His face was smashed as he slammed into something, something that for all the world felt like a slab of frozen steak. Aghi’s eyeless gaze met Oslo’s, his orbits filling with snow and ice. The harsh glare of the bright flare burnt spots into Oslo’s vision. “We are here.” Oslo heard the sound of tromping snow moments before he felt a mitten touch his back. “It’s okay. It’s okay, honey. I just tripped and lagged back a little.” The ranger relaxed, if only slightly. Oslo peered around the draugr’s bulk, seeing a hole penetrating into the hill, punching through the snow-drift, soil, hewed rock, and finally to air on the other side. He looked up the slope, but their cabin was lost in the blizzard. “You dug this, Aghi?” The warlord shook his head, ice crystals in his braided beard rattling against metal plate. “The wyrmling tunneled through first, I widened the hole with my own hands to escape its bitings.” Oslo eyed Aghi’s digits, bare of everything but bone, and decided to say nothing. The draugr knelt upon his aged knees, and crawled into the hole. Aliisa pulled the cord, confirming slack, before giving Oslo a tight, encouraging smile. He nodded, set his jaw, and clambered after Aghi. The hole was a tight squeeze, especially with his rifle, taken //just// in case the wyrmling tried something. But without too much of his coat torn by the roughly-stacked rocks, Oslo was able to quickly push himself to the other side. He was first surprised by the temperature, then by the size of the barrow. The mix of soil and snow insulated the tomb, keeping the temperature well above freezing. Melting ice dripped down from small holes in the walls, creating puddles on the packed-dirt floor. The ceiling of the barrow was just within his reach, but just barely. More roomy than the cramped crawl-space that he had envisioned underneath the cabin. The barrow was narrow but large, build like the long-houses that Aghi lived in life millenia ago. There were alcoves built into the stone walls, where there must have been small trinkets and offerings placed in Aghi’s honor, now held nothing but rock-dust. The far end of the barrow was shrouded in shadow, but must have held Aghi’s final resting place and, now, the wyrmling. There was a scratching, scuffling sound as Aliisa was birthed from the tunnel. Oslo bent to help her to her feet, brushing the dirt from her parka as she unslung her tranq-rifle. Aliisa pulled back her hood and blew a stray hair out of her her face. “Alright, where’s the lizard, Aghi?” Aghi unsheathed his axe and pointed at the far end of the barrow, the head of the axe held unwavering in the harsh light of the flare. “It took my ship for its own, lounging upon mine grave goods like a wretched miser.” The draugr raised the flare, and revealed twin orbs of light, reflecting the scarlet of the light. The eyes of the wyrmling swayed in the darkness, and let out a threatening hiss. Oslo shuffled forward, rifle held at the ready. His headlamp first revealed the steps of a plinth, then the pitted, aged wood of the grave-ship’s hull, then finally the pale belly of the wyrmling. The wyrmling was more akin to a snake than a dragon. Small for such a legendary creature, its lithe, long body only possessed two limbs, with two sets of talons gripping the splintered edge of the boat, and the rest of its trunk perched upon a carelessly stacked mound of Aghi’s grave goods — carefully folded bits of rotted clothing, rusted implements of farming and war, and dessicated bags of spice. The wyrmling’s long, pointed ears lay flat against its head and its club-tipped tongue danced in the air as it hissed at the trio. The creature spat something in Welsh, presumed to be very rude. Aliisa raised her hands in supplication, slowly approaching the creature. “Hey, little guy. We just want to talk-” She was interrupted by a furious berserker scream from Aghi, who charged the wyrmling with axe in hand. “God damn it all, Aghi.” “You desecrate my tomb! You sleep in my ship! You piss on my stuff!” The undead Viking let out a furious roar, unblemished by centuries of sleep, and brought his axe down with the swiftness of a guillotine. The serpentine dragon retorted with an ear-splitting shriek, its fangs glistening with bile and venom as it snapped and clawed at Aghi’s arms, exposing bloodless flesh the color of fish meat. “Shoot it, Aliisa!” “I’m trying, sweetie,” Aliisa hissed through gritted teeth. The draugr had dropped the flare in his bloodlust, which cast harsh, flickering shadows on the battle, rendering their forms monstrous and twisted. The slender, twisting figure of the wyrmling doubled the difficulty. Aliisa’s gloved hand squeezed the trigger. //Pfump//. The pneumatic canister in the rifle activated, and the tranquilizer dart shot from the barrel like a speeding bullet. The dart struck against the metallic hide of the wyrmling and shattered, splattering the fluid against itself and Aghi. The wyrmling screeched and reared back on its sinuous tail until its head scraped the ceiling, spreading its wings in a threatening display that stretched the width of the barrow and then some. In the guttering light of the flare, the wings were as transluscent as glass, the delicate skein of veins and muscles visible through the leathery membrane, pulsing in time with its throbbing heart. Aliisa lowered the rifle. “Shit.” Aghi drew his sword, his axe dripping blood in his other hand. A tooth that lay shattered on the ground vibrated and flew back into his gums, magnetically attracted to his cursed aura. “Do not worry, //ergi//s. I will slay this wretched beeeaa-” The warrior’s voice was cut off as the wyrmling lunged forwards, wrapping itself around him like a snake from hell. With a single clap of its wings, both Aghi and the wyrmling disappeared in a cloud of dust and crumbling rock, leaving Oslo and Aliisa sputtering and coughing. Oslo’s head was pounding, as he had been knocked flat against the wall by the blast, his headlamp shattered against the stone. He cracked his neck and with a groan pulled himself off of a spur of jutting rock, crawling over to Aliisa, covered with dust. “Are you alright, honey?” A glove reached up to gently pat Oslo’s face. “I can see you.” “Okay, good. Good. You’re not blind, that’s good news.” “No, Oslo. I can see you. How can I see you?” Oslo frowned. Their headlamps were dead, and the road flare was buried in dust. He looked up, to a beacon of light that shone overhead, where the wyrmling had flew up and burrowed straight through rock... Straight into their cabin. ----- Oslo and Aliisa burst through the cabin door and didn’t bother to shut it behind them, followed by a few flakes from the storm that still raged outside. The couple turned from the door, only to be met by carnage. The stovepipe had been shattered by an axeblade, pouring smoke into the cabin. The couch had been torn to shreds by wyrmling claws, steaming from the talons’ toxins. The old //Hiisi// laid sparking in a pool of spilled tea, small, dark tendrils escaping from its hard casing and wriggling into the floorboards. Gashes and scorch-marks marred the log walls, and blood spattered across the ceiling. In the center of it all, the two monsters duked it out, the epic fight devolved into an unglorious wrestling match. The wyrmling was wrapped around Aghi’s torso — splintering his ribs like toothpicks — while its neck was being throttled by his bare hands, his bare phlanges squeezing through its scales with the force of hydraulic presses. Aghi’s weapons were tossed into the corner, discarded and forgotten. Oslo’s mouth gaped, unable to fully process the boil of emotions that filled him looking at his crappy cabin. //Why are they messing up this shithole of a cabin. This is// our //shithole of a cabin.// After a second of hesitation, his brain finally decided on anger, and he unslung his rifle. Oslo aimed through a shattered window and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the cabin, and stunned the two fighters, who craned their necks to look up at the ranger. He stalked forwards, pointing a finger at the wyrmling. “You, why did you squat in Aghi’s barrow?” The creature flapped its jaws, momentarily speechless. It blinked, and composed itself enough to spit out some Welsh. Oslo looked to Aliisa, who shrugged, and they both turned to Aghi. Aghi removed a hand from the wyrmling’s neck to scratch his temple, peeling off some skin in the process. “It says it needs a hoard, and all others had already been claimed from here to London.” Oslo turned back towards the wyrmling. “You do realize most of that stuff is worth just sentimental value, right? You can find higher-quality clothing in any store in Europe, and most of Aghi’s coins are just corroded scrap by now.” The wyrmling blinked again. What little was left of Aghi’s lips pursed and soured. The ranger sighed, looking to Aliisa. She nodded her head, encouragingly. Oslo sighed once more and pulled out his wallet, fingering fifty markaa. Oslo held the money out with an open palm. “Here, go invest this in the stock market, or something. Consider this an investment of sorts, or a bribe. I don’t really care. Just leave Aghi and his stuff alone, please.” Aghi and the wyrmling looked at Oslo, then at each other, then at the money. The two gingerly untangled, and slowly put distance between each other. Making sure that Aghi had scuttled across the floor far enough away, the wyrmling slowly approached Oslo, its eyes narrowed and distrustful. It sniffed the money, and cocked its head, letting out a small chirrup. It reached out with a claw and grabbed the money, scurrying away and in one smooth motion leapt out the broken window, its wings outstretched. The wyrmling’s silhouette was quickly swallowed by the storm. Aliisa looked at Aghi, hands on her hips. “Well? You happy?” The draugr stood and stared out the window, teeth clicking in consternation. “The wyrmling is gone,” he reluctantly admitted. Aliisa pointed to the hole in the living room. “Go back to sleep.” Aghi looked like he was about to talk back, but Aliisa’s expression brooked no argument. He let out a death-rattle, and clambered back into his barrow. As the two supernatural creatures took their leave, Oslo and Aliisa had to take stock in their situation. They stared at the carnage wreaked in the living room. The twisted metal stovepipe leaking smoke, the broken window, hole in the floor, and shattered, sparking computer that laid in pieces on the ground made for a stark setting. Oslo's mouth was dry from dread, and he yelped when Aliisa slapped him on the back. "What?!" Aliisa's sweet cherubic smile was lent an air of menace by her words. "At least now you have no excuse with working on those requisition forms." ------- The stovepipe was straightened and reassembled as best as possible, and a spare sheet of particle board was salvaged from the woodshed outside to cover the newly-made downstairs entrance. Oslo swept up the glass and broken instruments, while Aliisa placed planks over the broken window. The room almost looked presentable when they were finished. Oslo sat on the bed, exhausted. He barely had enough energy to strip to his long-johns. Aliisa crawled over the mattress and into the covers, snuggling up against him. “What a day, huh?” Oslo looked down at her and smiled. “Yeah.” They listened to the wind rattle and drum against the windows and roof. Oslo would have to shovel the snow off the tin roof tomorrow, half a meter, minimum. But he wasn’t thinking about that now. “What do we do now, Aliisa?” Aliisa’s mouth quirked. God, he loved that smile. “What else do couples do on the longest night of the year?” Oslo felt a dopey grin grow across his face. He closed his eyes, and leaned into Aliisa, his lips brushing her cheek. Her head grew heavier resting on his shoulder, eyes closed. She had fallen asleep in seconds. His smile was softer, now. Oslo relaxed, winding his fingers through Aliisa’s hair as he listened to the storm rage outside, her body warm and soft as it pressed up against him. Maybe the job wasn’t //that// bad. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Blizzard.png > Author: [[user Anorrack]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Blizzard.png SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Fireplace3.png > Author: [[user Anorrack]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Fireplace3.png SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Hunter4.png > Author: [[user Anorrack]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Hunter4.png SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-28T16:49:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "mythological", "tale" ]	The Ranger, the Draugr, and the Wyrmling - SCP Foundation	13	[ "dead-men-tell-tales", "a-crooked-brow", "heavenly-body", "a-brief-explanation-on-demonics", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Hunter4.png", "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Fireplace3.png", "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling/Blizzard.png" ]	1451990648	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-ranger-the-draugr-and-the-wyrmling
the-scarlet-truth	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>From the depths of the cavern rang out the soft sound of footsteps. Not deep, booming, confident strides that one would imagine coming from the likes of The Scarlet King. No, they were unsteady, shuffling, barely perceptible in that chamber.</p> <p>The being who stepped out of the shadows into the soft light from the braziers sent a ripple of confusion among the gathered Foundation operatives. A child. Not a man. A small, scrawny child dressed in a simple tunic with worn, beaten sandals on his feet. A mop of black hair messily hung about his head and the only indication he was not baseline human were the shining crimson eyes hiding in that black hair and the blood that covered his skin.</p> <p>‘Wh-Who are you, kid? Did you get lost down here?’ Incredulity rang from Agent Daniels as he spoke to the child. The only response was a slow shake of the boy’s head and words that barely registered in the team’s ears. ‘What did you say, kid?’</p> <p>Slowly, cautiously, the child stepped closer to the gathered Agents and the light exposed more details as it came fully into the circle. The boy was thin and nearly malnourished with rivers of clear, alabaster flesh streaking down between his eyes and chin–the remnants of shed tears having cleaned away the blood that flecked everywhere else. For a few moments, he looked at each team member and appeared to be shivering in fear. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and gentle.</p> <p>‘I said I am not lost, Foundation. I am exactly where I should be. My…throne room.’ The child gestured to the sparse space around them, then to the small, gnarled, wooden chair that sat at the center of the light.</p> <p>All guns were immediately trained upon the child as he identified himself. Despite the likelihood that the child was lying, the team was not planning to take any chances. ‘Stop trying to bullshit us, kid. This is supposed to be the throne room of the Scarlet King, and you sure as fuck ain’t him. And how is this some kind of fucking throne room?!’</p> <p>Despite the aggression of Agent Daniels and the threat of gunfire, the child did not seem concerned as he began moving closer to the team. With each step, the gathered Agents grew more on edge until the boy simply walked past them to the center of the room. With a weariness his apparent age belied, the boy took a seat upon the ‘throne’.</p> <p>‘Who is the Scarlet King…?’ the boy quietly asked as he sat hunched forward in the chair, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him.</p> <p>After no follow-up came, Researcher Boyles stepped forward to answer. ‘The Scarlet King is…a god of sacrifice, blood, violence, and torture. A culmination of the short, nasty, and brutish natural world that preceded our modern world.’</p> <p>‘Tell me, then, Arthur Boyles…’ Researcher Boyles visibly recoiled as he was regarded by name.</p> <p>‘Tell me who is most often sacrificed? Whose blood is most spilled from living a ‘short, nasty, and brutish life’? Who suffers most from the violence? Who is tortured greater than any other? Answer me those questions and you will understand why I am not a giant of a ‘man’ who could crush you with a swipe of my hand.’</p> <p>As the boy spoke, tears welled in his eyes and began to fall down the canyons previous tears had carved through the blood caked over his face. And it was quiet for a long time within the cave as the gathered team considered the words from The Scarlet King.</p> <p>Finally, the newest member of the team, Agent Branson, spoke up to answer the questions. His voice wavered in fear as he truly came to understand the nature of The Scarlet King.</p> <p>‘Children… He’s speaking of children.’</p> <p>The reply was met with a somber nod from The Scarlet King as he finally sat up fully within the chair and regarded the team with those crimson eyes which held such torment that it shook all gathered to the bones.</p> <p>‘I am only what you have made me, humans. I do not represent the ‘natural world’. The natural world has no need for blood sacrifices, torture, or me. I am what humanity has tried to throw away. The memory of what they had done to each other in the name of ‘survival’. The memory that they could have been so much better. To themselves. To others. To the world.’</p> <p>The sudden cracking of wood echoed through the chamber as the boy slammed his hand against the armrest of his chair. The end broke off and the exposed, splintered wood dug into the god’s flesh. With anger flashing over every feature of his body, the boy rose from the chair. And while still a boy, he towered over the MTF as he flung his arm to the side and splattered blood over the chamber floor.</p> <p>‘I AM THE SCARLET KING! AND I AM ONLY WHAT YOU HAVE MADE OF ME, HUMANS! AND YOU DARE TO COME TO ME AND ACT AS IF I AM TO BLAME FOR THAT WHICH YOU INFLICT UPON YOURSELVES?!’</p> <p>The squad shuffled back away from the spattered blood, guns still trained on the imposing god as Researcher Boyles spoke up once more.</p> <p>‘But do you not demand those sacrifices of blood?! Did the Daevite not glorify you wi-’</p> <p>‘THEY GLORIFIED THEMSELVES! THEY USED ME AS A FOCUS FOR THE WORST OF THEIR DESIRES AND VANITIES! DO YOU REALLY THINK I WANT MORE BLOOD?! I HAVE THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF THE BLOOD OF THE MOST INNOCENT SEEPED INTO MY VERY BODY! I-!’</p> <p>And as swiftly as the boy had grown to his imposing stature, he shrank away again. And a broken, pained sob came from the boy as he crumpled back onto the throne.</p> <p>‘I do not want any of this. I never have. I…I was just a child myself, Arthur Boyles. Just a child when the first fool raised a dagger, sacrificed me, and named a god which did not exist yet. I was just a child when my father created the Scarlet King–a scapegoat for all his greed and corruption. A ‘necessary evil’ of sacrifice so that he may claim to be a great knower of wisdom and pretend to have the voice of the divine whispering to him.’</p> <p>The child pulled its legs up to his chest and hugged them as more tears flowed down his cheeks. ‘When humans began to turn to modernity, I thought I might finally know peace. Surely, now they had the means that clear, rotten corruption within their societies could be swept aside. But you did not. So many still sacrificed to me, behind closed doors and kept to themselves. Those are the most egregious of you all. They do not receive any boons from me other than the ones they invent for themselves.’</p> <p>After a few moments the boy’s tears stopped and that burning fire arose in his eyes once more as he leveled his gaze on the team. ‘You all are almost as bad. You sacrifice so many in the name of your ‘normalcy’. A trifling thing that you have created for yourselves so that you may sit among the highest seats of power your kind may obtain. The slaughter of those ‘Ds’ you’re so fond of. From adult to baby, you happily slit their throats so that their blood may nourish the soil of your self-imposed rule.’</p> <p>Despite the visible tremble of fear in his body, Researcher Boyles stepped forward to try and offer a defense. ‘But the Foundation protects! We do not do those things so that we may hold our status. We ensure the saf-’</p> <p>‘BY MURDERING ALL THOSE YOU DO NOT ACCEPT! WHAT ABOUT THEIR SAFETY?! WHAT OF THEIR RIGHT TO LIVE?! Yes, you deal with entities that solely desire to murder, many in my name. But how many are simply ‘undesirable’ in the eyes of your precious Overseers? How many simply wish to live their lives in peace?</p> <p>‘Do you know how many children the Foundation sacrifices each year? I do. The fact that the number is greater than one is all that it should take for each of you to turn those guns on your masters back at your Sites. But you won’t, I know this. I know these things because I also know there is one thing about my nature that you have never understood.’</p> <p>The boy placed his bleeding hand over his eyes and chuckled softly.</p> <p>‘All of your sacrifices are also in my name, whether any of you intend them to be.’</p> <p>Over the next minute, the laughter grew in volume and pitch until it was a mad cackle that rang through the cavern.</p> <p>‘Do you see it now?! YOU are my greatest adherents. And your Council my greatest High Priests. None other have sent up so many offerings to me in the name of concealing their own savagery!’</p> <p>The King threw his head back and let loose one more peel of laughter as Command gave the order to retreat. The caverns shook around them with the fury of a tormented god and followed them along each step of their retreat.</p> <p>With his solitude restored, the King collapsed back onto his throne and the angry god melted away. All that remained was a small boy, harrowed by the humans who created him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and began to weep softly.</p> <p>Even with this 'truth' revealed to the Foundation, he knew another sacrifice was soon to come.</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-scarlet-truth">The Scarlet Truth</a>" by Corax D, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-scarlet-truth">https://scpwiki.com/the-scarlet-truth</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]] [[/>]] From the depths of the cavern rang out the soft sound of footsteps. Not deep, booming, confident strides that one would imagine coming from the likes of The Scarlet King. No, they were unsteady, shuffling, barely perceptible in that chamber. The being who stepped out of the shadows into the soft light from the braziers sent a ripple of confusion among the gathered Foundation operatives. A child. Not a man. A small, scrawny child dressed in a simple tunic with worn, beaten sandals on his feet. A mop of black hair messily hung about his head and the only indication he was not baseline human were the shining crimson eyes hiding in that black hair and the blood that covered his skin. ‘Wh-Who are you, kid? Did you get lost down here?’ Incredulity rang from Agent Daniels as he spoke to the child. The only response was a slow shake of the boy’s head and words that barely registered in the team’s ears. ‘What did you say, kid?’ Slowly, cautiously, the child stepped closer to the gathered Agents and the light exposed more details as it came fully into the circle. The boy was thin and nearly malnourished with rivers of clear, alabaster flesh streaking down between his eyes and chin–the remnants of shed tears having cleaned away the blood that flecked everywhere else. For a few moments, he looked at each team member and appeared to be shivering in fear. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and gentle. ‘I said I am not lost, Foundation. I am exactly where I should be. My…throne room.’ The child gestured to the sparse space around them, then to the small, gnarled, wooden chair that sat at the center of the light. All guns were immediately trained upon the child as he identified himself. Despite the likelihood that the child was lying, the team was not planning to take any chances. ‘Stop trying to bullshit us, kid. This is supposed to be the throne room of the Scarlet King, and you sure as fuck ain’t him. And how is this some kind of fucking throne room?!’ Despite the aggression of Agent Daniels and the threat of gunfire, the child did not seem concerned as he began moving closer to the team. With each step, the gathered Agents grew more on edge until the boy simply walked past them to the center of the room. With a weariness his apparent age belied, the boy took a seat upon the ‘throne’. ‘Who is the Scarlet King…?’ the boy quietly asked as he sat hunched forward in the chair, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. After no follow-up came, Researcher Boyles stepped forward to answer. ‘The Scarlet King is…a god of sacrifice, blood, violence, and torture. A culmination of the short, nasty, and brutish natural world that preceded our modern world.’ ‘Tell me, then, Arthur Boyles…’ Researcher Boyles visibly recoiled as he was regarded by name. ‘Tell me who is most often sacrificed? Whose blood is most spilled from living a ‘short, nasty, and brutish life’? Who suffers most from the violence? Who is tortured greater than any other? Answer me those questions and you will understand why I am not a giant of a ‘man’ who could crush you with a swipe of my hand.’ As the boy spoke, tears welled in his eyes and began to fall down the canyons previous tears had carved through the blood caked over his face. And it was quiet for a long time within the cave as the gathered team considered the words from The Scarlet King. Finally, the newest member of the team, Agent Branson, spoke up to answer the questions. His voice wavered in fear as he truly came to understand the nature of The Scarlet King. ‘Children… He’s speaking of children.’ The reply was met with a somber nod from The Scarlet King as he finally sat up fully within the chair and regarded the team with those crimson eyes which held such torment that it shook all gathered to the bones. ‘I am only what you have made me, humans. I do not represent the ‘natural world’. The natural world has no need for blood sacrifices, torture, or me. I am what humanity has tried to throw away. The memory of what they had done to each other in the name of ‘survival’. The memory that they could have been so much better. To themselves. To others. To the world.’ The sudden cracking of wood echoed through the chamber as the boy slammed his hand against the armrest of his chair. The end broke off and the exposed, splintered wood dug into the god’s flesh. With anger flashing over every feature of his body, the boy rose from the chair. And while still a boy, he towered over the MTF as he flung his arm to the side and splattered blood over the chamber floor. ‘I AM THE SCARLET KING! AND I AM ONLY WHAT YOU HAVE MADE OF ME, HUMANS! AND YOU DARE TO COME TO ME AND ACT AS IF I AM TO BLAME FOR THAT WHICH YOU INFLICT UPON YOURSELVES?!’ The squad shuffled back away from the spattered blood, guns still trained on the imposing god as Researcher Boyles spoke up once more. ‘But do you not demand those sacrifices of blood?! Did the Daevite not glorify you wi-’ ‘THEY GLORIFIED THEMSELVES! THEY USED ME AS A FOCUS FOR THE WORST OF THEIR DESIRES AND VANITIES! DO YOU REALLY THINK I WANT MORE BLOOD?! I HAVE THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF THE BLOOD OF THE MOST INNOCENT SEEPED INTO MY VERY BODY! I-!’ And as swiftly as the boy had grown to his imposing stature, he shrank away again. And a broken, pained sob came from the boy as he crumpled back onto the throne. ‘I do not want any of this. I never have. I…I was just a child myself, Arthur Boyles. Just a child when the first fool raised a dagger, sacrificed me, and named a god which did not exist yet. I was just a child when my father created the Scarlet King–a scapegoat for all his greed and corruption. A ‘necessary evil’ of sacrifice so that he may claim to be a great knower of wisdom and pretend to have the voice of the divine whispering to him.’ The child pulled its legs up to his chest and hugged them as more tears flowed down his cheeks. ‘When humans began to turn to modernity, I thought I might finally know peace. Surely, now they had the means that clear, rotten corruption within their societies could be swept aside. But you did not. So many still sacrificed to me, behind closed doors and kept to themselves. Those are the most egregious of you all. They do not receive any boons from me other than the ones they invent for themselves.’ After a few moments the boy’s tears stopped and that burning fire arose in his eyes once more as he leveled his gaze on the team. ‘You all are almost as bad. You sacrifice so many in the name of your ‘normalcy’. A trifling thing that you have created for yourselves so that you may sit among the highest seats of power your kind may obtain. The slaughter of those ‘Ds’ you’re so fond of. From adult to baby, you happily slit their throats so that their blood may nourish the soil of your self-imposed rule.’ Despite the visible tremble of fear in his body, Researcher Boyles stepped forward to try and offer a defense. ‘But the Foundation protects! We do not do those things so that we may hold our status. We ensure the saf-’ ‘BY MURDERING ALL THOSE YOU DO NOT ACCEPT! WHAT ABOUT THEIR SAFETY?! WHAT OF THEIR RIGHT TO LIVE?! Yes, you deal with entities that solely desire to murder, many in my name. But how many are simply ‘undesirable’ in the eyes of your precious Overseers? How many simply wish to live their lives in peace? ‘Do you know how many children the Foundation sacrifices each year? I do. The fact that the number is greater than one is all that it should take for each of you to turn those guns on your masters back at your Sites. But you won’t, I know this. I know these things because I also know there is one thing about my nature that you have never understood.’ The boy placed his bleeding hand over his eyes and chuckled softly. ‘All of your sacrifices are also in my name, whether any of you intend them to be.’ Over the next minute, the laughter grew in volume and pitch until it was a mad cackle that rang through the cavern. ‘Do you see it now?! YOU are my greatest adherents. And your Council my greatest High Priests. None other have sent up so many offerings to me in the name of concealing their own savagery!’ The King threw his head back and let loose one more peel of laughter as Command gave the order to retreat. The caverns shook around them with the fury of a tormented god and followed them along each step of their retreat. With his solitude restored, the King collapsed back onto his throne and the angry god melted away. All that remained was a small boy, harrowed by the humans who created him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and began to weep softly. Even with this 'truth' revealed to the Foundation, he knew another sacrifice was soon to come. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Corax D]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-12T15:42:00	[ "_licensebox", "scarlet-king", "tale" ]	The Scarlet Truth - SCP Foundation	25	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "cotsk-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1448457980	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-scarlet-truth
the-scoop	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! President Cornwallis of Earth Thirty-One resigns in scandal! The story’s all yours for a dime, ma’am!” the paperboy shouted through the bustling crowds of Time Square.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5402" target="_blank">Timothy</a> passed off the last copy of the Sunday paper with one hand, and drew in a fistful of coins with the other. Even with that “inflation” gobbeldygook Mr. Noteworthy was always yelling about, today’s paper run might just be a record haul: almost twenty smackeroos! And all before dark, too!</p> <p>The boy shoved the coinage in the pockets of his suspenders as he hopped down from his rickety wooden milk crate. He wiped the sweat from his eyes with the top of his flatcap, before squinting to read the time off one of those fancy electronic billboards this city was so fond of. It was just turning 3:30.</p> <p>Timothy’s stomach growled. He’d skipped lunch that day to get the extra sales in; needed to impress Mr. Noteworthy before asking that big favor, even though he felt bad about not eating that PB & J his Ma had packaged for him that morning. He kicked the crate up and caught it under one arm, it was time to go back.</p> <p>The boy’s ears perked up as he heard shouting from somewhere in the mass of people around him. It was pretty easy to miss one or two folks yelling in the busy streets of New York. But those three police officers in the nifty black uniforms pushing towards him through the crowd were saying something very peculiar.</p> <p>“SCP-5402, stop where you are now!”</p> <p>Well that’s an odd name. The boy swung his head over his right shoulder. Then his left. None of the other passerbys looked much like a Mr. or Mrs. “5402.” But the officer in front, now close enough that Timothy could see those three white arrows on his helmet, seemed to be looking right at him. Confused, he pointed his finger to his chest, as if to say: <em>Who, me?</em></p> <p>“Do not move from that spot! You're coming in for questioning.” The man reached out at him, probably to grab a paper.</p> <p>Timothy sighed. The news media must be really popular on this Earth. “Sorry misters, I just sold the last copy. But I’ll have some extras to sell tomorrow morning, I’m sure of it!”</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <p>Right as the officer reached him, Timothy disappeared from Earth Thirteen. Celestial bodies whizzed past his vision like streamers, as he rocketed through the cosmos of infinite worlds. He was still getting the hang of this particular mode of travel, one of the many perks of being a paperboy for the best outlet in the multiverse. He just needed to pick out the right dimension to land in, he didn’t want a repeat of that kerfuffle with all those spooky melting folks. He wondered if people from that world were made of ice cream?</p> <p><em>Ah, snap out of it Tim, focus!</em></p> <p>As he finally settled down into his home dimension, galaxies and nebulae seemed to swirl around him like a glowing cloud of pixie dust. Finally, he spotted just the right planet, and on that planet, just the right country, and city, and building… Timothy focused in on just the right spot, on just the right floor, aaaaaannnd…</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <p>…he was back! Timothy stood right inside his place of employment: <em>The Cosmic Courant</em>, the best and oldest extradimensional weekly in the multiverse.</p> <p>The office was abuzz with the many dapper-dressing, dimension-hopping worker bees under its employ, as usual. There was a fancy word Tim couldn't remember for places like this place. Places packed with the overwhelming sounds of shuffling papers, clattering typewriters, and the hurried chattering of reporters and editors trying to make a deadline. But the only word he knew to call it was "chaos."</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <p>A young man in a fedora popped into the office, sending papers flying off a nearby desk in a whirlwind. He strode through Timothy's path, walking with all the swagger of a man ready to change the world, but with all the speed of someone who knew it wouldn't wait for him. He paid the boy no mind as he slung his overcoat over his head onto the coat rack. "Jan, get me page three and make it snappy. Chris Rock and Will Smith just had a pistol duel in the Twenty-First."</p> <p>Timothy strolled on through the building, ducking under the adults in the room, who seemed so transfixed on their myriad tasks that they hardly noticed him. To Tim, it was awe-inspiring, the way they so intensely and efficiently went about the news; the last thing he wanted was to break their concentration with a <em>pardon</em> or <em>excuse me</em>. He bobbed and weaved as they rushed about their daily business until he reached the door at the far end of the room: the office of the Editor-In-Chief, Norman Noteworthy.</p> <p><strong>"OH OKAY, WELL YOU CAN TELL THOSE MOTHERLESS DUNDERHEADS OVER AT TRANSDIMENSIONAL TELECAST THAT TV IS A FAD, AND THEIR COMPANY SURFS ON SNAKE OIL!"</strong></p> <p>Mr. Noteworthy smacked down his rotary phone with such a fury, Timothy was surprised the dial didn't pop off. The Editor muttered to himself and energetically paced the room, the white streaks in his hair fittingly looking like speed lines the way he bounced from one spot to the next. The grizzled veteran of the press snapped his suspenders before collapsing in his swivel chair, exhausted from yet another long day of red-faced arguing and shouting commands to the "pencil-necks" under his employ. He shuffled through the mountains of papers on his desk before finally noticing the paperboy at the door. "What, Tim?" he asked curtly. The man's eyes widened ever so slightly, seeming to register that he was talking to a kid. He rubbed his temples, and his expression softened. "Sorry Tim, what can I do ya for?"</p> <p>"Hiya Mr. Noteworthy! Pulled in a record haul today!" Timothy beamed as he presented his flat cap, stuffed to the brim with a heap of coins, bills, and a colorful assortment of currencies from countless worlds.</p> <p>"That's good, Tim. Strong stuff. You're gonna make it big in this business." The Editor blazed through his sentences with all the speed of an auctioneer.</p> <p>"Yeah, I thought so too. I was thinking I might be ready to give writing a try, actually."</p> <p>The Editor paused, leaning back in his chair and massaged the stubble on his chin as he mulled over his next words. "Tim, Tim, love the enthusiasm, that's what we're all about here. But you're a little young to go to print. Besides, we need ya where you're at, nobody can zip around quite like you can!"</p> <p>"Yeah, but–" Timothy hopped on one of the chairs in front of Mr. Noteworthy's desk, sitting on top of his milk crate to get about eye level with the man. "–I really think I'm ready! I mean, I've been learning a lot and all, handling papers for you guys. And I've always wanted to do this, you know, writing. Like you."</p> <p>"Aw, kid. Lay off the heartstrings." Mr. Noteworthy leaned back in his chair, pushing his hands together in deep––however brief––thought. "Tell ya what. You're already bouncing all over the cosmos, I'm sure you can find a good story out there somewhere. Find me something, bring it back, and we'll see if it's up to snuff."</p> <p>"Applesauce!" Timothy leaped out of his chair, and bolted through the door. "Thank you Mr. Noteworthy! You won't regret it!"</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <hr/> <p><em>All-righty.</em> Timothy thought. <em>Stories. Stories, stories, stories, stories. If I were a story, where would I hide?</em></p> <p>The aspiring journalist biked down the long, stretching <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3008" target="_blank">aisles</a> of Earth-Three Thousand and Eight. The titanous shelving units on each side of him were filled to the brim will kitchen appliances, home decor, and more ready-to-assemble furniture sets than he knew the names of. He stopped at a makeshift mailbox resting on one of the shelves, dropping a paper inside. A Ziploc bag full of Swedish meatballs sat nearby as his payment.</p> <p>Suddenly, Timothy was overcome with an idea. <em>Everybody loves local businesses! Mr. Noteworthy said they're "the front line in the war against communism." I could write a puff piece about this place!</em> He scanned the aisles as far as his vision would allow. <em>Hm… I just gotta find someone to talk to.</em></p> <p>Timothy screeched to a halt as a yellow-clad silhouette appeared in the distance. It was a tall, faceless man in a striped IKEA uniform. <em>Golly,</em> he thought. <em>My first person! And a worker to boot!</em> The boy cleared his throat as he biked closer, notepad in hand. "Hey mister! Mister! Timothy Times with <em>The Cosmic Courant</em>, could I borrow you for a second?"</p> <p>The creature meandered onwards, ignoring the boy. <em>Oh wait a second, he doesn't have ears! He probably can't hear me.</em> Timothy sucked in a deep breath. <strong>"MISTER! CAN YOU SPARE A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME?"</strong> His shout echoed deep throughout the store.</p> <p>"Hey, hey kid!"</p> <p>Timothy scanned around for the source of the voice. He turned his attention to a makeshift wall in a nearby clearing, built from overturned refrigerators and ovens stacked like LEGO pieces. A giant cardboard sign read "<em>KITCHENWARE COMMONWEALTH</em>." A man was leaning over the top of the wall, almost fifteen shelves high. He wore tattered clothes, covered in cupcake trays he donned like a studded suit of armor, and clutched a spear firmly in one hand. "What are you doing? Get away from that thing!"</p> <p>"Oh, hey! You must be a customer! My name's Timothy Times, I'm a junior reporter with <em>The Cosmic Courant</em>! Wanna answer a couple questions for me?"</p> <p>"You– What? Kid seriously, it's gonna be dark soon, get inside!"</p> <p>"Sorry mister." Timothy put up both his hands. "My momma told me not to go anywhere with strangers."</p> <p>The fluorescent lights, dangling a football field off the ground from an infinite sheet metal roof began to shutter off one by one, sending a looming darkness cascading over the world. "The store is now closed," a voice echoed from somewhere off in the distance. "Please exit the building."</p> <p>The man became panicked. "Kid, seriously, get out of there."</p> <p>If Timothy could see behind him, he would have seen the faceless man whip around to face him as the lights went off. It began to lumber towards the boy, its elongated, claw-like fingers stretching wide ready to pounce.</p> <p>Timothy tapped his pencil to the notepad. "Well just a second, sir. I need to speak with the fine gentleman behind me."</p> <p>"Stop messing around, don't go near that thing!"</p> <p>"Why, is their customer service that bad?" Timothy began to jot down on the paper.</p> <p>The creature dove at Timothy, clamping down on him like a venus fly trap. But the instant it drew close enough to touch him, his teleportation kicked in like a reflex, vanishing him from the spot before he even knew what was happening.</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <p>Timothy looked around. He landed in a random spot in the store, at the very top of a shelving unit miles away. <em>Hmmm…</em> he thought, as he continued writing. <em>I'll give it two stars.</em></p> <hr/> <p><em>Maybe I should give some hard-hitting politics a try?</em> Timothy blipped into the center of a large auditorium. It was packed to the brim with hundreds of men, but they all somehow looked exactly the same. Green eyes, blonde hair, and, the boy thought, maybe just a little on the chubby side. This was the People’s Dimension-Hopper Republic, and today was a big rally for Representative Tommy from Massachusetts.</p> <p>At the center of the crowd, standing at a podium, stood one <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-507" target="_blank">particular variant</a> of the blonde men: This one wearing a somewhat wrinkly suit and tie instead of the identical casual wear of the masses around him. Timothy bounced to the front of the crowd, notepad in hand. “Hi, Mister– er, Congressman Tommy! Timothy Times, with <em>The Cosmic Courant</em>. Care to answer a question or two for the free press?”</p> <p>The congressman put on an enthusiastic grin, seeming thrilled just for the attention he was now getting from someone other than a copy of himself. “Hey little dude, totally! Fire away!”</p> <p><em>Yes! My first interview!</em> Timothy tapped his pencil to the paper with anticipation. “Sir, the extradimensional audiences wanna know––Did you always want to be a leader?”</p> <p>“Well, that’s actually a great question! You see, it all started when I was a little boy. I came from a bit of a broken home, and my mother was… wait a minute.” The congressman’s body started to shimmer and ripple, something weird was happening. His face turned to shock as his body went translucent, suddenly fading to nothing. “Oh no no no, come on, not again!”</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <p>And just like that, the congressman was gone. The crowd of blonde men quieted and put down their signs in a collective look of disappointment. “Well, there goes another one,” Timothy could hear one of the men grumble from the back.</p> <p>Timothy looked around. The man was completely gone, and ditched him mid-question to boot. <em>Well that was rude</em>, the boy thought.</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <hr/> <p>Timothy appeared once again on Earth Thirteen, in the frigid heights of the Himalayas. This time, his still empty notepad was swapped for a cheap, yet comically oversized press camera now slung from around his neck. The flashbulb on top seemed to be even larger than his face. <em>Well</em>, he thought. <em>Maybe I’m no interview whiz, but snapping a quick photo can’t be that hard!</em></p> <p>The up-and-coming journalist scanned the mountain range, which seemed to stretch out endlessly in all directions. The weather didn’t bother him––it never did––but the desolate, snowy white peaks threatened to kill him of boredom if he didn’t find that thing soon.</p> <p>And then he saw it, a wavy, black silhouette off in the distance at first, until he blipped over closer. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2521" target="_blank">It</a> was a tall, looming thing, covered head to toe in black ribbons. It lumbered across the summit, ignoring the boy. <em>Good golly</em>, Timothy thought. <em>That sure is a funny-looking getup. Are those streamers? Maybe he’s a hipster, this’ll top the fashion section for sure!</em></p> <p>Timothy let out a shrill whistle. The thing turned to look at him, pausing. If the boy could see its face––if it had a face at all––it would look confused. “Hey mister, say cheese!” The camera let out a blinding flash, and the creature recoiled. It stared at the boy reproachfully, taken aback by the sudden burst of light. “This’ll look dandy, thank you sir!”</p> <p><strong>Blip.</strong></p> <p>After just a hop, skip and a jump back to the Cosmic Courant, it was only a matter of figuring out the printing press. Timothy picked up the top sheet of a stack of his very own paper, admiring the beauty of his photo on the third page. <em>Ah yes</em>, the boy thought. <em>My magnis– my magic–… uh…</em> He tried to remember that one super professional-sounding phrase Mr. Noteworthy said the other day. <em>Oh yeah, my magnum opus!</em></p> <p>As he turned to skip over to the Editor-In-Chief’s office, ready to wave his first article over his head, the boy almost ran face-first into a dark shadow looming over him. It was that hipster from the Himalayas, but what was he doing here? “Uh… hey mister! Your picture turned out real dandy, wanna see before it goes to print?"</p> <p>The creature looked down at Timothy. Then the paper. Then back to Timothy. And back to the paper again. And then it simply reached down, picked up the stack out of the boy’s hands, and… <strong>POOF.</strong> Disappeared.</p> <p>“Oh…” Timothy murmured to no one in particular. “Okay.”</p> <hr/> <p>Hours later, the boy popped in front of a London newsstand, where he sat down on the curb in a slump. <em>Applesauce, this is harder than I thought! Maybe Mr. Noteworthy was right, maybe I’m just not ready.</em> He propped his face up with his hands, mushing his face with his palms. <em>Maybe I’ll never be ready.</em></p> <p>But before he could blip back home in defeat, something in the stand caught his eye. A newspaper like none he’d ever seen before. Its front page was an inordinate collage of headers and pictures, alive with every color of the rainbow. The sheets were so shiny they almost looked like they were made out of plastic. This was more elaborate than any paper he’d ever read. And that price tag: Eight dollars! Maybe this wasn’t a newspaper at all, maybe it was one of this world’s holy texts?</p> <p>Timothy picked up a copy from the rack and read it over. "What in the hoo-ha is 'People Magazine?'” As he flicked through the pages, Timothy’s journalistic passion was reignited as he was overcome with a wonderful, spectacular, brilliant idea.</p> <hr/> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/drclef-member-page" target="_blank">Dr. Alto Clef</a> waltzed down the halls of Site-19, bedecked in a custom-tailored suit, in sharp contrast from his lucky Hawaiian shirt he always fit under his lab coat. His usually unkempt bushel of hair was combed back in a stylish parted hairdo, kept firm under a thick crust of gel. The stench of gunpowder, booze, and pure, unfiltered human sin––or, as he called it, his “intoxicating musk”––was kept at bay by his finest cologne. This was the one night a week the good doctor fretted over appearances; tonight was <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/date-night" target="_blank">date night</a>.</p> <p>Clef spritzed his Binaca into his mouth, even though his breath was already a freezing whirlwind of minty fresheners, and he anxiously smoothed his hair back one last time. His grip on the fresh-cut bouquet of daffodils––her favorite––tightened as he unlocked the door of the containment unit.</p> <p>And there she stood, the apple of his eye, in all her magnificence: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173" target="_blank">SCP-173</a>. For this one night a week, this glorious concrete work of art was all his. And… she was looking away?</p> <p><em>Ah</em>, Clef thought. <em>She’s in one of her moods. Oh well, it’s time to turn on the Clef Charm</em>. The doctor cleared his throat. “It’s been too long, darling. I brought daffodils, your favorite.” The statue stood still, giving Clef a shoulder colder than its rebar skeleton. “Hon, what is it? You know you can talk to m–.”</p> <p>Then he saw it: a black and white newspaper, sitting at the end of the table the crew of D-Classes had just finished setting for their romantic evening minutes ago. Clef could sense she wanted him to read it, and so he did. The top of the front page read, in big, bold letters:</p> <blockquote> <p><em><strong><span style="font-size:140%;">DOCTOR CLEF’S SECRET LOVE CHILD?</span><br/> Love, Loss, & Scandal. SCP-166 Tells All!</strong></em><br/> <strong>By Timothy Times</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>“Babe, it’s not what you think!”</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-scoop">The Scoop</a>" by Ferox Numine, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-scoop">https://scpwiki.com/the-scoop</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="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] “Extra! Extra! Read all about it! President Cornwallis of Earth Thirty-One resigns in scandal! The story’s all yours for a dime, ma’am!” the paperboy shouted through the bustling crowds of Time Square. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5402 Timothy] passed off the last copy of the Sunday paper with one hand, and drew in a fistful of coins with the other. Even with that “inflation” gobbeldygook Mr. Noteworthy was always yelling about, today’s paper run might just be a record haul: almost twenty smackeroos! And all before dark, too! The boy shoved the coinage in the pockets of his suspenders as he hopped down from his rickety wooden milk crate. He wiped the sweat from his eyes with the top of his flatcap, before squinting to read the time off one of those fancy electronic billboards this city was so fond of. It was just turning 3:30. Timothy’s stomach growled. He’d skipped lunch that day to get the extra sales in; needed to impress Mr. Noteworthy before asking that big favor, even though he felt bad about not eating that PB & J his Ma had packaged for him that morning. He kicked the crate up and caught it under one arm, it was time to go back. The boy’s ears perked up as he heard shouting from somewhere in the mass of people around him. It was pretty easy to miss one or two folks yelling in the busy streets of New York. But those three police officers in the nifty black uniforms pushing towards him through the crowd were saying something very peculiar. “SCP-5402, stop where you are now!” Well that’s an odd name. The boy swung his head over his right shoulder. Then his left. None of the other passerbys looked much like a Mr. or Mrs. “5402.” But the officer in front, now close enough that Timothy could see those three white arrows on his helmet, seemed to be looking right at him. Confused, he pointed his finger to his chest, as if to say: //Who, me?// “Do not move from that spot! You're coming in for questioning.” The man reached out at him, probably to grab a paper. Timothy sighed. The news media must be really popular on this Earth. “Sorry misters, I just sold the last copy. But I’ll have some extras to sell tomorrow morning, I’m sure of it!” Blip.* Right as the officer reached him, Timothy disappeared from Earth Thirteen. Celestial bodies whizzed past his vision like streamers, as he rocketed through the cosmos of infinite worlds. He was still getting the hang of this particular mode of travel, one of the many perks of being a paperboy for the best outlet in the multiverse. He just needed to pick out the right dimension to land in, he didn’t want a repeat of that kerfuffle with all those spooky melting folks. He wondered if people from that world were made of ice cream? //Ah, snap out of it Tim, focus!// As he finally settled down into his home dimension, galaxies and nebulae seemed to swirl around him like a glowing cloud of pixie dust. Finally, he spotted just the right planet, and on that planet, just the right country, and city, and building… Timothy focused in on just the right spot, on just the right floor, aaaaaannnd… Blip. …he was back! Timothy stood right inside his place of employment: //The Cosmic Courant//, the best and oldest extradimensional weekly in the multiverse. The office was abuzz with the many dapper-dressing, dimension-hopping worker bees under its employ, as usual. There was a fancy word Tim couldn't remember for places like this place. Places packed with the overwhelming sounds of shuffling papers, clattering typewriters, and the hurried chattering of reporters and editors trying to make a deadline. But the only word he knew to call it was "chaos." Blip. A young man in a fedora popped into the office, sending papers flying off a nearby desk in a whirlwind. He strode through Timothy's path, walking with all the swagger of a man ready to change the world, but with all the speed of someone who knew it wouldn't wait for him. He paid the boy no mind as he slung his overcoat over his head onto the coat rack. "Jan, get me page three and make it snappy. Chris Rock and Will Smith just had a pistol duel in the Twenty-First." Timothy strolled on through the building, ducking under the adults in the room, who seemed so transfixed on their myriad tasks that they hardly noticed him. To Tim, it was awe-inspiring, the way they so intensely and efficiently went about the news; the last thing he wanted was to break their concentration with a //pardon// or //excuse me//. He bobbed and weaved as they rushed about their daily business until he reached the door at the far end of the room: the office of the Editor-In-Chief, Norman Noteworthy. "OH OKAY, WELL YOU CAN TELL THOSE MOTHERLESS DUNDERHEADS OVER AT TRANSDIMENSIONAL TELECAST THAT TV IS A FAD, AND THEIR COMPANY SURFS ON SNAKE OIL!" Mr. Noteworthy smacked down his rotary phone with such a fury, Timothy was surprised the dial didn't pop off. The Editor muttered to himself and energetically paced the room, the white streaks in his hair fittingly looking like speed lines the way he bounced from one spot to the next. The grizzled veteran of the press snapped his suspenders before collapsing in his swivel chair, exhausted from yet another long day of red-faced arguing and shouting commands to the "pencil-necks" under his employ. He shuffled through the mountains of papers on his desk before finally noticing the paperboy at the door. "What, Tim?" he asked curtly. The man's eyes widened ever so slightly, seeming to register that he was talking to a kid. He rubbed his temples, and his expression softened. "Sorry Tim, what can I do ya for?" "Hiya Mr. Noteworthy! Pulled in a record haul today!" Timothy beamed as he presented his flat cap, stuffed to the brim with a heap of coins, bills, and a colorful assortment of currencies from countless worlds. "That's good, Tim. Strong stuff. You're gonna make it big in this business." The Editor blazed through his sentences with all the speed of an auctioneer. "Yeah, I thought so too. I was thinking I might be ready to give writing a try, actually." The Editor paused, leaning back in his chair and massaged the stubble on his chin as he mulled over his next words. "Tim, Tim, love the enthusiasm, that's what we're all about here. But you're a little young to go to print. Besides, we need ya where you're at, nobody can zip around quite like you can!" "Yeah, but–" Timothy hopped on one of the chairs in front of Mr. Noteworthy's desk, sitting on top of his milk crate to get about eye level with the man. "–I really think I'm ready! I mean, I've been learning a lot and all, handling papers for you guys. And I've always wanted to do this, you know, writing. Like you." "Aw, kid. Lay off the heartstrings." Mr. Noteworthy leaned back in his chair, pushing his hands together in deep––however brief––thought. "Tell ya what. You're already bouncing all over the cosmos, I'm sure you can find a good story out there somewhere. Find me something, bring it back, and we'll see if it's up to snuff." "Applesauce!" Timothy leaped out of his chair, and bolted through the door. "Thank you Mr. Noteworthy! You won't regret it!" Blip. ------ //All-righty.// Timothy thought. //Stories. Stories, stories, stories, stories. If I were a story, where would I hide?// The aspiring journalist biked down the long, stretching [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3008 aisles] of Earth-Three Thousand and Eight. The titanous shelving units on each side of him were filled to the brim will kitchen appliances, home decor, and more ready-to-assemble furniture sets than he knew the names of. He stopped at a makeshift mailbox resting on one of the shelves, dropping a paper inside. A Ziploc bag full of Swedish meatballs sat nearby as his payment. Suddenly, Timothy was overcome with an idea. //Everybody loves local businesses! Mr. Noteworthy said they're "the front line in the war against communism." I could write a puff piece about this place!// He scanned the aisles as far as his vision would allow. //Hm... I just gotta find someone to talk to.// Timothy screeched to a halt as a yellow-clad silhouette appeared in the distance. It was a tall, faceless man in a striped IKEA uniform. //Golly,// he thought. //My first person! And a worker to boot!// The boy cleared his throat as he biked closer, notepad in hand. "Hey mister! Mister! Timothy Times with //The Cosmic Courant//, could I borrow you for a second?" The creature meandered onwards, ignoring the boy. //Oh wait a second, he doesn't have ears! He probably can't hear me.// Timothy sucked in a deep breath. "MISTER! CAN YOU SPARE A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME?"* His shout echoed deep throughout the store. "Hey, hey kid!" Timothy scanned around for the source of the voice. He turned his attention to a makeshift wall in a nearby clearing, built from overturned refrigerators and ovens stacked like LEGO pieces. A giant cardboard sign read "//KITCHENWARE COMMONWEALTH//." A man was leaning over the top of the wall, almost fifteen shelves high. He wore tattered clothes, covered in cupcake trays he donned like a studded suit of armor, and clutched a spear firmly in one hand. "What are you doing? Get away from that thing!" "Oh, hey! You must be a customer! My name's Timothy Times, I'm a junior reporter with //The Cosmic Courant//! Wanna answer a couple questions for me?" "You– What? Kid seriously, it's gonna be dark soon, get inside!" "Sorry mister." Timothy put up both his hands. "My momma told me not to go anywhere with strangers." The fluorescent lights, dangling a football field off the ground from an infinite sheet metal roof began to shutter off one by one, sending a looming darkness cascading over the world. "The store is now closed," a voice echoed from somewhere off in the distance. "Please exit the building." The man became panicked. "Kid, seriously, get out of there." If Timothy could see behind him, he would have seen the faceless man whip around to face him as the lights went off. It began to lumber towards the boy, its elongated, claw-like fingers stretching wide ready to pounce. Timothy tapped his pencil to the notepad. "Well just a second, sir. I need to speak with the fine gentleman behind me." "Stop messing around, don't go near that thing!" "Why, is their customer service that bad?" Timothy began to jot down on the paper. The creature dove at Timothy, clamping down on him like a venus fly trap. But the instant it drew close enough to touch him, his teleportation kicked in like a reflex, vanishing him from the spot before he even knew what was happening. Blip. Timothy looked around. He landed in a random spot in the store, at the very top of a shelving unit miles away. //Hmmm...// he thought, as he continued writing. //I'll give it two stars.// ------ //Maybe I should give some hard-hitting politics a try?// Timothy blipped into the center of a large auditorium. It was packed to the brim with hundreds of men, but they all somehow looked exactly the same. Green eyes, blonde hair, and, the boy thought, maybe just a little on the chubby side. This was the People’s Dimension-Hopper Republic, and today was a big rally for Representative Tommy from Massachusetts. At the center of the crowd, standing at a podium, stood one [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-507 particular variant] of the blonde men: This one wearing a somewhat wrinkly suit and tie instead of the identical casual wear of the masses around him. Timothy bounced to the front of the crowd, notepad in hand. “Hi, Mister– er, Congressman Tommy! Timothy Times, with //The Cosmic Courant//. Care to answer a question or two for the free press?” The congressman put on an enthusiastic grin, seeming thrilled just for the attention he was now getting from someone other than a copy of himself. “Hey little dude, totally! Fire away!” //Yes! My first interview!// Timothy tapped his pencil to the paper with anticipation. “Sir, the extradimensional audiences wanna know––Did you always want to be a leader?” “Well, that’s actually a great question! You see, it all started when I was a little boy. I came from a bit of a broken home, and my mother was… wait a minute.” The congressman’s body started to shimmer and ripple, something weird was happening. His face turned to shock as his body went translucent, suddenly fading to nothing. “Oh no no no, come on, not again!” Blip.* And just like that, the congressman was gone. The crowd of blonde men quieted and put down their signs in a collective look of disappointment. “Well, there goes another one,” Timothy could hear one of the men grumble from the back. Timothy looked around. The man was completely gone, and ditched him mid-question to boot. //Well that was rude//, the boy thought. Blip. ------ Timothy appeared once again on Earth Thirteen, in the frigid heights of the Himalayas. This time, his still empty notepad was swapped for a cheap, yet comically oversized press camera now slung from around his neck. The flashbulb on top seemed to be even larger than his face. //Well//, he thought. //Maybe I’m no interview whiz, but snapping a quick photo can’t be that hard!// The up-and-coming journalist scanned the mountain range, which seemed to stretch out endlessly in all directions. The weather didn’t bother him––it never did––but the desolate, snowy white peaks threatened to kill him of boredom if he didn’t find that thing soon. And then he saw it, a wavy, black silhouette off in the distance at first, until he blipped over closer. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2521 It] was a tall, looming thing, covered head to toe in black ribbons. It lumbered across the summit, ignoring the boy. //Good golly//, Timothy thought. //That sure is a funny-looking getup. Are those streamers? Maybe he’s a hipster, this’ll top the fashion section for sure!// Timothy let out a shrill whistle. The thing turned to look at him, pausing. If the boy could see its face––if it had a face at all––it would look confused. “Hey mister, say cheese!” The camera let out a blinding flash, and the creature recoiled. It stared at the boy reproachfully, taken aback by the sudden burst of light. “This’ll look dandy, thank you sir!” Blip.* After just a hop, skip and a jump back to the Cosmic Courant, it was only a matter of figuring out the printing press. Timothy picked up the top sheet of a stack of his very own paper, admiring the beauty of his photo on the third page. //Ah yes//, the boy thought. //My magnis– my magic–... uh…// He tried to remember that one super professional-sounding phrase Mr. Noteworthy said the other day. //Oh yeah, my magnum opus!// As he turned to skip over to the Editor-In-Chief’s office, ready to wave his first article over his head, the boy almost ran face-first into a dark shadow looming over him. It was that hipster from the Himalayas, but what was he doing here? “Uh… hey mister! Your picture turned out real dandy, wanna see before it goes to print?" The creature looked down at Timothy. Then the paper. Then back to Timothy. And back to the paper again. And then it simply reached down, picked up the stack out of the boy’s hands, and… POOF. Disappeared. “Oh…” Timothy murmured to no one in particular. “Okay.” ------ Hours later, the boy popped in front of a London newsstand, where he sat down on the curb in a slump. //Applesauce, this is harder than I thought! Maybe Mr. Noteworthy was right, maybe I’m just not ready.// He propped his face up with his hands, mushing his face with his palms. //Maybe I’ll never be ready.// But before he could blip back home in defeat, something in the stand caught his eye. A newspaper like none he’d ever seen before. Its front page was an inordinate collage of headers and pictures, alive with every color of the rainbow. The sheets were so shiny they almost looked like they were made out of plastic. This was more elaborate than any paper he’d ever read. And that price tag: Eight dollars! Maybe this wasn’t a newspaper at all, maybe it was one of this world’s holy texts? Timothy picked up a copy from the rack and read it over. "What in the hoo-ha is 'People Magazine?'” As he flicked through the pages, Timothy’s journalistic passion was reignited as he was overcome with a wonderful, spectacular, brilliant idea. ------ [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/drclef-member-page Dr. Alto Clef] waltzed down the halls of Site-19, bedecked in a custom-tailored suit, in sharp contrast from his lucky Hawaiian shirt he always fit under his lab coat. His usually unkempt bushel of hair was combed back in a stylish parted hairdo, kept firm under a thick crust of gel. The stench of gunpowder, booze, and pure, unfiltered human sin––or, as he called it, his “intoxicating musk”––was kept at bay by his finest cologne. This was the one night a week the good doctor fretted over appearances; tonight was [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/date-night date night]. Clef spritzed his Binaca into his mouth, even though his breath was already a freezing whirlwind of minty fresheners, and he anxiously smoothed his hair back one last time. His grip on the fresh-cut bouquet of daffodils––her favorite––tightened as he unlocked the door of the containment unit. And there she stood, the apple of his eye, in all her magnificence: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173 SCP-173]. For this one night a week, this glorious concrete work of art was all his. And… she was looking away? //Ah//, Clef thought. //She’s in one of her moods. Oh well, it’s time to turn on the Clef Charm//. The doctor cleared his throat. “It’s been too long, darling. I brought daffodils, your favorite.” The statue stood still, giving Clef a shoulder colder than its rebar skeleton. “Hon, what is it? You know you can talk to m–.” Then he saw it: a black and white newspaper, sitting at the end of the table the crew of D-Classes had just finished setting for their romantic evening minutes ago. Clef could sense she wanted him to read it, and so he did. The top of the front page read, in big, bold letters: > //[[size 140%]]DOCTOR CLEF’S SECRET LOVE CHILD?[[/size]] > Love, Loss, & Scandal. SCP-166 Tells All!// > By Timothy Times* “Babe, it’s not what you think!” [[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>]]	2023-02-11T14:31:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The Scoop - SCP Foundation	7	[ "scp-5402", "scp-3008", "scp-507", "scp-2521", "drclef-member-page", "date-night", "scp-173", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "young-and-under-30", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446152180	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-scoop
the-ship-of-screams	<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="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>The Ship of Screams</span></h1> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <img alt="Asterisk43.png" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png"/><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <h1 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #990011">2023</span></span></h1> <h2 id="toc2"><span>26 May</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/einrichtung-dossier-standort-de16">Site DE-16</a>: The Salzhaff, Bay of Wismar, Federal Republic of Germany</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Karen hadn't thought to specify that her ideal romantic partner would not be a sopping wet milquetoast. She hadn't thought it necessary. The AIC which ran the Foundation's internal dating service had asked for her personnel file, and she had provided it. That should have been sufficient to weed out any spineless bores who might swipe right based entirely on looks — despite the death glare in her profile picture — and thereby sign up for an evening full of hurt. If not, her self-description ought to have done the trick. She'd been brutally honest: she was doing this so her Site's top psychologist could check a box on a form that Karen herself, as that Site's chief administrator, needed to submit to the Director. The form attested that Karen was emotionally healthy, and could be relied upon to continue her decades of faithful service without risk of a sudden mental breakdown.</p> <p>The psychologist had refused to sweep her pen across the page, because unfortunately she knew Karen socially and not well enough to lie on her behalf. In retrospect, she should have alternated between doing paperwork in her office after hours and doing it in the little bungalow she owned in Grand Bend, allowing her to claim that she was entertaining gentlemen on occasion. As it stood she had no excuse, and so had been forced to place the fate of this enchanted evening in the digital hands of Hiemal.</p> <p>She would have done better to grab someone off the street. This had to be some sort of joke.</p> <p>"More wine, Dr. Elstrom?" her date simpered.</p> <p>She mentally added an 'h' to the noun, and responded "No thank you, Dr. Stoica." The tall, lean, grey haired man slouched over the seawall railing in defeat, bottle of cheap red three quarters full beside him. He couldn't have been a worse fit for his own name. She fiddled idly with the silver necklace around her neck, and fought the urge to sigh. She wasn't all dressed up for nothing, since dressing up was something on its own, but she'd expected at least <em>some</em> entertainment this evening which she hadn't brought with her.</p> <p>They stared out over the cloudy Bay of Wismar, an eagle's talon of channels servicing the Foundation's wet and drydocks. She nursed her still-full glass, idly rotating her right thigh and stretching out the long leg to strike a more striking pose. She wasn't doing it consciously, though of course she did notice. At least one of them was making this look good.</p> <p>"Would you like to see the perimeter?" Stoica asked, not turning to face her. "Or, uh… take a tour of the underground facilities?"</p> <p>Karen had no intention of entering an interior space with him. His intentions were noble, she had no doubt; he lacked the imagination to be lascivious. But she wasn't about to reward him for depriving her of interesting company, even if the warm breeze off the bay was moderately pleasant. "No thank you," she repeated. "In fact, I think I should be—"</p> <p>The outline of his sagging face was seared into her eyes as a bright white light filled the air around it, and then he was on top of her, and the warm breeze was hot as flame.</p> <p>Her ears were ringing.</p> <p>This wasn't the first piece of sensory data to reach her brain after the explosion, because she hadn't passed out, but it was the first to really stick because it was still relevant when she was no longer in imminent danger. On well-trained emergency autopilot she had towed Stoica across the manicured green while falling bombs punched deep impact craters all around them, bursting in brilliant flashes of light but no heat, as warning sirens wailed and engines roared overhead. She was almost to the warehouse before she really saw it, had her ID card in her hand before she saw the reader on the door, had the door open before she felt the impact of plastic against the screen. She didn't even feel the strain from hauling her date behind her until the door was closed again, so instinctual was her response to the attack. You didn't reach your fifties at the Foundation without acquiring swift and decisive disaster reflexes.</p> <p>"Oh my god," Stoica wheezed. This was his first reaction to what had happened; apparently he was the exception to the rule. He doubled over, gasping for breath. He wasn't overweight, but in a way Karen had never remotely been, he was certainly out of shape. "I didn't even see it start. Are you a first responder or something?"</p> <p>She shook her head. "Don't qualify. I have DPHF." This was still a sore point for her all these long years later, but they had moved well beyond the coy little dance of teasing out personal details in return for agreeable flirtations. This was life or death.</p> <p>"I don't know what that is," he responded predictably. Karen had already defined him as a man who didn't know things. She resolved to tell him later, when they had more time.</p> <p>"It doesn't matter. Find the lights."</p> <p>He unbent, face pale behind his bushy grey moustache and bushy grey eyebrows, and cast about uselessly on their little island of illuminated concrete. Only an emergency bulb over the door was lit. "I've never been in this sector," he muttered. "I only started work here last week."</p> <p>This tracked. Hiemal had given her a date who lived halfway across the world, in flagrant violation of her set preferences. That apparently sometimes happened when personnel transferred from station to station, when the system didn't have time to update. She'd only agreed to meet Stoica after realizing that a long distance relationship would take less effort to fake, achieving her goal with a minimum of socializing. "Look anyway. I'm trying the comms." She took out her pager, and began hitting buttons.</p> <p>"I could try comms." Stoica patted the grey brick walls sullenly.</p> <p>"And don't speak. Hello? This is Dr. Elstrom, L4. Instructions?"</p> <p>A calm male voice responded. "Seek cover. If possible, evacuate the area. Prioritize the bay."</p> <p>"Copy." She winced as the floor shook; another of those curious non-explosions, just outside by the sound of it. Stoica whimpered in the dark.</p> <p>The lights came on.</p> <p>They were standing in a large concrete boathouse, dominated by what looked to Karen's maritimeless eye — when on boats, she preferred to sunbathe until the ordeal was over — like an old timey harbour tug. There were signs and consoles everywhere, all smashed to pieces. There was a hole in the roof far above, and fallen masonry and structural steel every which where.</p> <p>"This place isn't safe." Karen turned to the door. "We'll be flattened when the roof comes down."</p> <p>"I'm not going back out there!" Stoica whined without conviction.</p> <p>"You'll do whatever I tell you," she snapped, and then as though in punctuation another blast went off, closer than ever before, and the wall shook and the door visibly buckled.</p> <p>Stoica reached for the handle, and Karen slapped his hand away. "Don't touch it now, you idiot! You could bring the entire wall down."</p> <p>"What should I do, then?" the grown man sulked at her.</p> <p>"Anything I ask, and nothing more. Don't touch anything, don't say anything, don't back talk me. I'm in charge." She didn't wait for a response, instead walking to the end of the pier and assessing the state of the twin boathouse doors. They seemed undamaged. "Hmm." She headed for the gangplank, miraculously still in place.</p> <p>"We're taking cover in there?" Stoica asked dubiously, against her instructions. "It doesn't look like it can take a beating. More like it already has."</p> <p>She stepped daintily onto the rusty deck with her black Manolo Blahnik shoes, adjusting her dress for longer strides. "It won't have to take much more. We're taking it out."</p> <p>"How is out better than—"</p> <p>She turned to present him with the glare that had already failed to deflect his interest, hoping it had more effect in person. "Dr. Stoica, you have no expertise relevant to this scenario. I do. Furthermore you lack both the courage and the ingenuity to react appropriately to an emergent situation. If you don't stop talking right now, I will render you unconscious with my taser as though you'd gotten handsy with me on the seawall. I have made myself clear." She considered the scene for a half-second more, not wanting to see the man's face fall further. "Go around back," she gestured at the wheelhouse, "and check for an anchor line. If there is one, haul it up. We're leaving."</p> <p>He disappeared behind the wall of the cabin. Karen busied herself with undoing the high strength mooring lines on both sides; the concrete formed a staple-shaped arc around the stern of the ship. There was a wet sort of snapping sound from the stern as she started on the starboard side, and she called out: "What was that?"</p> <p>"I don't know. But there's no anchor," Stoica called back. His voice had lost the shell shock of moments prior, likely due to her expert dressing-down. She hoped he remained pliable until she could ditch him with the security staff.</p> <p>She glanced over the edge of the hull, and blanched. Two figures in labcoats, a man and a woman, and four male agents lay face down in the water below. If they'd been there the entire time, they were either breathing water or long dead. The ruby cloud enveloping them was another clue.</p> <p>"Whatever hit this place killed everyone inside," she called out again without looking away. "All the more reason to get the hell out."</p> <p>"Quite."</p> <p>She nearly jumped out of her skin to find Stoica standing beside her. His face was even paler than before, and he did not look over the rail. She'd been too intent on the carnage to hear him approach. "Yes," he agreed again. "We should leave. Now."</p> <p>Stoica disappeared into the bowels of the boat while Karen familiarized herself with the controls. By the time she thought she had it all figured out, a deep rumble rose up in the planks beneath her feet. Red dust billowed outside the wheelhouse, revealing oddly shiny metal underneath. Perhaps the rust was a blind, hiding the vehicle's true nature from curious civilian eyes? The old tub might get them out of here after all.</p> <p>"Ready to go." Stoica emerged from the hatch to the lower decks.</p> <p>"Where did you learn how to start a tugboat engine?"</p> <p>He chuckled. His voice had dropped at least an octave since their flaccid waterfront picnic. "I've done a few crossings in my time. Once piloted a sailing ship to shore all my lonesome. This is nothing."</p> <p>She granted him an appraising glance. He was standing taller, footing more sure, shoulders back, head cocked curiously to one side. He seemed more self-assured, more comfortable in his own skin. Had his challenges to her leadership been a test, or was he simply more in his element on a boat? If it was the latter, so much the better for their chances.</p> <p>She'd fished the remote control for the doors out of the pile of rubble on the pier. They were lucky it hadn't been in the hands of one of the dead scientists or guards. When she pressed the big green button, the thing actually fizzled audibly in her hand. As the doors swung open grudgingly against the pressure of the water within, a thin wet trickle emerged from between the button and its depression to roll down her wrist. It must've been doused when the ceiling fell into the berth. She tossed the remote aside, not wanting to get electrocuted.</p> <p>She eased the tug out. There was a hideous scraping sound from the bow, and she hurried out to the rail to see what they were dragging. A strange wooden shape like a keel turned upside-down slid along the hull, disentangling itself from a nasty gouge just above the waterline. The damage didn't look bad enough for them to start shipping water. There were pieces of corrugated steel from the roof on top of the bizarre wooden spar, suggesting that the roof falling in had also dislodged this strange alien component from the bow scar. Strange.</p> <p>The boat made it out of its house regardless, into the waters of the bay. South in the harbour they could see an aircraft carrier painted in curious livery, launching planes toward the Site. More of the invisible explosions were levelling outbuildings and shooting down fighter craft scrambling from the airstrip. The latter flew apart soundlessly and bloodlessly, parachutes deploying every time. It was a curiously non-fatal fracas.</p> <p>The radio crackled. "Unknown vessel. These waters are now under the authority of the," and Karen thought she heard 'Temporal Anomalies Department', though something didn't sound quite right and anyway that didn't make sense. "You will reverse your present course, or suffer the wrath of the <em>Boxer.</em> Please respond."</p> <p>"We can outrun them," Stoica declared confidently. She was still getting used to the idea that he could do anything with confidence. "Pour on the gas, and let's take a pleasure cruise."</p> <p>She barely suppressed a smile as she pushed the lever forward, her injunction against his speech forgotten. "Awfully bold all of a sudden, aren't we?"</p> <p>"It's a dramatic day." The ship's bow began to rise and fall in the choppy water. "And we're both dressed for theatre, so why not give them a show?"</p> <p>The assertiveness did wonders for him. What had just minutes before been a sunken-cheeked vision of middle aged surrender now seemed noble, almost imperial. Stoica had obviously missed his calling as a ship's captain.</p> <p>There was nothing but open water ahead. Stoica set down primly in a couch behind the conn. After a moment's consideration, Karen joined him. "This is one of the more eventful dates I've been on." She didn't say it was the <em>most,</em> because it wasn't. She also didn't mention how much time had elapsed since she'd enjoyed even a dull romantic excursion.</p> <p>"Have I made a good impression?" Stoica's grey eyes gleamed with both high interest and an unsuspected mirth.</p> <p>"Not at the outset," she admitted. "But you're improving."</p> <p>"Ah." He nodded. "Well, perhaps we should start over again, Karen." He hadn't called her anything but 'Dr. Elstrom' up to that moment.</p> <p>She shrugged amiably. "If you like, Karl. We've got nothing but time."</p> <p>He folded his hands in his lap aristocratically. "Then we are both incalculably rich."</p> <p>Stoica had become such an expert conversationalist that Karen wanted to check him for head trauma. He regaled her with stories that under normal circumstances couldn't possibly be true. A Romanian village nearly flattened by a tentacular beast only thwarted when it broke into the local silver mine and poisoned itself. A prolific serial killer stalking Indonesia during the Krakatoa eruption of 1883 who had never been caught, having disappeared into thin air when the ash clouds finally lifted. A ship which had inexplicably sunk after its hold was filled with garlic, only to re-emerge from the deeps with the entire cargo disgorged. Stoica's relationship to these tales was unclear, but Karen didn't much care. He told them well, with a mellifluous baritone and a strong sense of moment. His delivery was hypnotic.</p> <p>"But enough about me." If he'd yet offered a single scrap of information about himself, Karen hadn't caught it. "What about you?"</p> <p>Karen considered. She'd spent twenty-plus years in one of the world's most fascinating workplaces, but when asked to relate any of it herself… well. There was one story she could lay claim to, but it was rather personal, and she hadn't brought it up a single time since it had occurred. She glanced her date up and down, calculating, then made the decision. She was getting too old to be hung up on the past.</p> <p>"Werewolves." She felt very vulnerable starting this story, like she was baring her jugular. "I was placed in charge of my Site before I was ready, and we were handling an anomaly exchange. These werewolves—"</p> <p>"I don't care to hear about <em>werewolves,</em>" Stoica barked. He stood and disappeared down the stairs to the lower compartments, leaving Karen alone on the couch in shock. She sat there for a moment, left eye twitching, feeling very foolish and exposed before leaping to her feet and storming after him.</p> <p>"Where do you get off?" she shouted at the back of his tuxedo.</p> <p>"I don't," he replied over his shoulder. He was heading for the engine room.</p> <p>"Turn around when I'm speaking to you!"</p> <p>He spun in place, one finger raised in a regal gesture of protest. "I am unaccustomed to taking orders."</p> <p>She shook her head in disbelief. "The hierarchy here is very simple, Karl. I'm in charge." She advanced on him, matching his finger with one of her own. Hers were longer.</p> <p>"I don't answer to you!"</p> <p>"I'm a full clearance level higher!"</p> <p>"I'm the one who understands the boat!"</p> <p>"I'm the one with a consistent personality!" The sound of vibrating pistons, amplified by the hull, surrounded them. They were screaming at each other to be heard over it.</p> <p>"My secrets are my own," he growled. "You have not earned the privilege."</p> <p>It was hard to change tack in this cacophony, but Karen made a college try. "You don't get to pick me up in an Audi, playing Michael Bolton on CD, then play the sexy and mysterious card!"</p> <p>"You think I'm sexy?" He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. She nearly busted them for him when she realized she could hear the sound of the blood in her ears.</p> <p>The engines had stopped.</p> <p>"What's going on? Are we out of fuel?"</p> <p>They were both very badly dressed for the engine room. It was sleek and shiny, but still unmistakably industrial.</p> <p>"Not as such." Stoica removed his suit jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "There's plenty more, but it needs loading."</p> <p>"Loading," she repeated as the man removed a wide, flat ended shovel from a wall mounted tool rack.</p> <p>"Yes." Stoica walked over to what Karen now recognized as a coal hopper. "You mind opening the boiler door, or are menial tasks beneath you?"</p> <p>She placed both hands on her hips, a gesture which an entire generation of employees at Site-43 had learned to dread. "There is absolutely no way this tug runs on <em>coal.</em>"</p> <p>"Believe what you want." Stoica opened the boiler himself, and started shovelling. "But if you don't help me warm up this old boat's heart, that carrier is going to catch us."</p> <p>She watched him stoke the flame until she could feel the heat from the back of the compartment. She watched him strip to the waist, taking care to place his clean white shirt out of reach of the rising cloud of coal dust, and she wasn't sure whether to be more intrigued by how much more physically fit he seemed than she'd thought — posture counted for so much — or his concern for the state of his wardrobe. She liked a man who kept up appearances.</p> <p>When it became apparent that he wasn't going to be able to get the boiler up to full blast without help, despite making a near-heroic go of it, she headed to the fore compartments for a moment. She returned in her underwear, plain and utilitarian; she hadn't expected anyone, least of all Stoica, to see them today. As means of disrobing one's date went, this was surely novel.</p> <p>He made no effort at all to disguise the fact that he found the achievement agreeable.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>O we are damned to die below<br/> As off to war the triremes go<br/> Through strain and spit the music grows<br/> The whip that cracks, the oars that row</p> </div> </div> <p>She was surprised to hear him sing, and astonished to find that he was good at it. He hit every ominous note with practiced ease. They timed their motions to the steady rhythm, and before long the fuel was heaped high and the fire was stifling hot. His muscles shone with sweat, and her underwear soon left nothing at all to the imagination. If either of them had been inclined to find it titillating, the accumulation of black dust on their wet skin baking blacker took the shine off rapidly. They were both in complete and total coalface by the time Stoica slammed the boiler shut, and declared the job well done.</p> <p>They staggered back onto the bridge, then onto the deck. Karen could barely feel the wind through her protective layer of grime. The carrier was a distant stretch of detached horizon, heaving to, abandoning the pursuit. A small flotilla of angry-looking frigates, bristling with guns, was approaching from the Site. Bigger fish to fry. They'd made it.</p> <p>Stoica went back down to stop the engines while Karen walked to the stern, where an access ladder led to and from the waterline. She stripped off her filthy garments, piled them neatly on the captain's console, then climbed down. The water was warm, but felt ice cold in comparison to the slowly abating heat of the engine room. She fancied it sizzled as the coal armour coating her body ablated in sticky sheets while she hung from the ladder and felt the tug gradually lose its head of steam. When the boat had slowed to a backcrawl, she let go the ladder and dunked her head underwater. A few vigorous scrubs cleaned her face and hair of the worst of it; when she surfaced, the water was filthy but the filth was floating back toward the bay. She repeated the action, completing her ablutions just in time to see Stoica two-hand sliding down the ladder towards her. She nearly shouted a warning, but the man neatly sidestepped at the last possible second to catch the stern's narrow lip. He bent down to smile at her.</p> <p>"All better?" He was still caked with grime.</p> <p>"It's an improvement." She scrubbed at her arms and legs, conscious that the water afforded precious little cover but not wholly uncomfortable with that fact. Against all odds, the milquetoast had earned himself a little intimacy.</p> <p>"You are a thing of grace," the man remarked mildly as he squatted down. "I think you must have been a queen, in a past life."</p> <p>She wanted to snort, but snorting was undignified. She scoffed instead. "Royals are rarely beautiful. 'Good breeding' is just a euphemism for 'inbreeding'. I'd be a hag by now if I were a queen."</p> <p>Stoica laughed. It sounded nothing like any sound he'd made on land. "And you know you're no hag. I like that you see yourself so clearly, Karen. Is that one source of the authority you project?"</p> <p>Something about what he'd said set a bell ringing in the back of her brain. She knew from experience that it would resolve into words eventually, and figured she could afford to wait. "Authority comes from making mistakes until you know how to stop. That's all."</p> <p>He inclined his head. He'd done that a lot since crossing the gangplank. "Hardly <em>all.</em> There's also knowing your own worth, and the worth of those around you. I could tell when you spoke with," and he shifted his position as the boat rocked suddenly to port, "me in the boathouse, that ruling comes naturally to you. You were in the presence of a peon, and acted accordingly."</p> <p>She narrowed her eyes. "You're not much of a peon anymore, Karl. Was that all an act?"</p> <p>He shrugged. "I leave it to your interpretation. Things are not always as they seem." He leaned forward, no doubt getting a better look.</p> <p>"You're not wrong." She bobbed up and out of the water, like a mermaid, and planted a quick kiss on his soot-stained lips. The taste was sour.</p> <p>She looked down as she sank back in, and suddenly realized what was wrong.</p> <p>The words rang out loud and clear.</p> <p>Stoica was leaning out over the water.</p> <p><em>He has no reflection.</em></p> <p>And that wasn't the worst of it.</p> <p><em>Neither does the boat.</em></p> <p>She didn't cover up. That ship had long since sailed, and there was anyway little modesty in her makeup. Instead, she simply asked: "Who are you? Really?"</p> <p>Stoica blinked, then seemed to realize his error. He sighed. "I'd hoped we'd have more time to get acquainted before you noticed. I suppose you'll get all <em>professional</em> on me, now. I'd almost be disappointed to be wrong."</p> <p>"You're connected to the boat." It wasn't a question.</p> <p>"I am the boat."</p> <p>It was her turn to blink. She suddenly remembered the timing of his transformation from wilting violet to regal rose, and cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. "You took Stoica when I sent him for the anchor."</p> <p>The thing in Stoica's body nodded. "He's not bothered, if that's what's bothering you. Your little assignation was going very poorly for him, and I've been doing much better."</p> <p>"Will you let him go?"</p> <p>"I could, but that would deprive us of our best means of communicating."</p> <p>She placed both hands on the ladder rail experimentally. He made no move to interfere. "You're not going to drown me? Or leave me behind?"</p> <p>He laughed again. It still sounded genuine. "If I had wanted you dead and gone, Karen, you would never have made it this far. Once the doors were open, I didn't need you. No, this is all about desire now."</p> <p>There was nothing in her training about self-defence against boats, but she was sure she could improvise. She hadn't been lying about the taser before, though she'd left it with her necklace and clothes. "If I'm going to come aboard… you, again…" She saw him smirk. "…I'll at least want to know your real name."</p> <p>"That is only fair." He stood, looking almost majestic despite taking the form of a barrel chested middle aged man with too much moustache, a receding hairline, dusty dress pants and sweat-soaked cast of coal. "My name is <a href="/scp-6426">Vampire Boat</a>."</p> <p>He didn't hear her burst out laughing, because another bomb burst right beside them and showered the ship with an almighty roar.</p> <p>The radio was blaring as Karen scurried nude across the deck. There were planes in the sky, ugly boxy things with bright red bulbous noses which barely looked capable of flight, and they were dropping those strange percussive devices willy-nilly. She'd been drenched twice by the spray while climbing the ladder, and nearly lost her grip.</p> <p>"Dr. Elstrom!" She'd left her pager on the console with her underwear, and the dispatcher was shouting. "Hostiles have targeted 6426." Four digits, an SCP number. The one she was standing on? "Attempts at negotiation have failed. We cannot assure your safety. Take cover."</p> <p>"<em>I</em> can assure it," Stoica — she didn't have time to think of him as anything more complex — declared. "Get below. I'll handle this."</p> <p>"That body is as vulnerable as mine." She knew her duty. "I'm staying up here to make sure you don't ruin it."</p> <p>"Fine." Stoica took the wheel, which gave her all manner of strange thoughts. "But stay out of the line of fire if you can. This is bound to get messy, and I don't want you hurt."</p> <p>She had a strange feeling that the body-hijacking sapient boat was finally telling her the truth about something.</p> <p>A trio of the ugly jets growled overhead, their payloads splashing down and splashing up in the tug's path. "Vampire Boat," the voice from earlier returned over the radio. "You have been identified. You will be pummelled. Do not resist."</p> <p>"I am going to resist," Stoica murmured.</p> <p>"They're bluffing. If they were going to blast you, they wouldn't bother threatening first. They want you to surrender."</p> <p>"You have witnesses on board," the voice continued. "By order of the Tempura Anomalies Department," and this time Karen heard it loud and clear, "this is unacceptable. Neutralize them, and you will be shown mercy."</p> <p>"Okay," she said. "Maybe they aren't bluffing. How do you know these people? Who are they?"</p> <p>Stoica sighed, and opened his mouth to answer. The radio cut him off. "You will now be boarded. Sock. Pummel. Combat."</p> <p>"They're from where I'm from." Stoica gripped the tug's wheel tightly, which Karen found intriguing but didn't have time to muse too closely on. "They're weirder than I am, but I am worse."</p> <p>The planes were coming in for another pass. A shape detached itself from the lead craft, falling toward them. Two more followed suit from its wingmen.</p> <p>"That's not much of an explanation."</p> <p>He pointed out the wheelhouse window. "If you can't figure it out from that, the answer won't make sense anyway."</p> <p>The first of the shapes crashed down on the bow, splintering wood momentarily obscured by a cloud of red dust. It was humanoid — an exoskeleton, painted teal, with thick fists on both arms and both legs. The feet-fists mercilessly pounded the deck as it advanced, hand-fists pumping at the air with pneumatic anticipation. There was an insignia on each shoulder, a distorted Foundation emblem with fists instead of arrows.</p> <p>"What," Karen said, "is <em>that.</em>"</p> <p>"My past returns to haunt me," said Stoica.</p> <p>"That normally means an old girlfriend showing up. Not…" She waved at the window. "Whatever—"</p> <p>The other two attackers landed, flanking the leader. Karen opened her mouth to finish her interrupted sentence… and the first attacker closed the distance between them in a single bound, a single <em>instant,</em> launched by its spring loaded fist-feet. It struck the window and shattered it with one mighty blow, filling the wheelhouse with powdered glass. One mechanical hand pulled back, clenched, then struck at her like a pile driver.</p> <p>It didn't connect.</p> <p>A wall of red gristle shot up from the floor, the boards bending aside to let them pass. Suckers on the end drilled into the cabin roof with tiny teeth, like limpets, a dozen thick strands screening her from the incoming fist and redirecting its kinetic energy like a rubber band. Or a slingshot. The owner was flung back toward the bow, and the filament curtain immediately dropped back away so that Karen could see the deck plates under a second attacker collapse, reforming again once it had fallen in. A sequence of squeals, not all of them metal, echoed up from the open hatch, then a sound like a giant swallowing hard, then silence. The glass on the window grew back into place like ice sheeting out on a lake, and the air filled with dissipating rust.</p> <p><em>It's eating them, and healing itself.</em> She remembered, <em>Vampire Boat.</em></p> <p>The third attacker raised both fists to strike, but the tendrils struck it first. They crept across the gunwales, out of portholes down below and smokestacks up above, pulling its arms taut across the deck and binding its feet to the shifting boards. When the motors in the exoskeleton whirred to life, they tore its arms clean off. The hungry red feelers shot through the new armour gaps, and devoured the man inside. She knew it was a man by the tone of his screaming.</p> <p>"Won't lose her again," Stoica murmured. He was standing unsteadily. Karen placed one hand on his back, to brace him.</p> <p>The lead attacker had righted itself, and kicked its feet-fists up into the air. Rockets kept it hovering in place as it pointed all four fists at the bridge, the springs sprang…</p> <p>…and a hundred organic harpoons cris-crossed its body, shredding it in midair. A solid curtain of wet human and twisted metal smashed into the window, and was gradually absorbed.</p> <p>When the glass was clear again, Karen could see the deck was immaculate. Not a spot of rust to be seen.</p> <p>The planes came around for another pass.</p> <p>The horizon… disappeared.</p> <p>Karen walked out of the wheelhouse, ambled around the back like she was on a Sunday stroll — <em>It's Friday,</em> she thought dreamily — and looked over the bulb of the stern. They were rising into the air, the surface of the water rapidly retreating. Already they were dozens of feet up. How did that work?</p> <p>She turned back to see the distant specks growing nearer. The deck rose up to meet them. The bow split open in a horizontal maw, and she gripped a stanchion to chance a look down through it.</p> <p>Three hundred feet, four hundred, five hundred feet below, the lower hull was squirming on the Baltic Sea. It was still under power. The upper decks were suspended at low flight altitude by straining, pulsating pillars of angry red flesh.</p> <p>"Hold on," a voice from the wheelhouse told her unnecessarily. It wasn't remotely human.</p> <p>The jaws opened so wide that they formed an almost straight line. Karen clutched the stanchion until her fingers ached. The planes plunged toward her. They were shaped like boxing gloves.</p> <p>The ship snapped shut.</p> <p>And they were gone. There was an explosion. She was blown up off her feet, and something soft and slimy caught and slid her back down to safety. The hull rumbled. It rocked. It roared, literally, like a tyrannosaur enraged or engorged or in heat.</p> <p>It sank, sank, sank, until she could see the horizon again. The sun was approaching it, tentatively, as though rubbernecking at the inexplicable carnage below. She stood in the middle of the deck, stock still, stark naked, and watched the contrails above melt into the evening cloudscape.</p> <p>Stoica stumbled out of the wheelhouse. All the ash had been washed off of him by bucketloads of sweat. Except for his soaked hair, he was as pristine as the tug he was an extension of.</p> <p>"Ask me again how you're doing," she said. Her voice sounded high and frantic. "What kind of an impression you're making."</p> <p>He shook his head. "I'm well aware."</p> <p>She pushed him over.</p> <p>"Who was she?"</p> <p>"Who was who?"</p> <p>Karen prodded him in the stomach. He didn't react. "You said you wouldn't let it happen to her again. During the battle. Who did you lose?"</p> <p>"I was out of it. Strained. Just babbling."</p> <p>They were laying on the deck as the sun crept lazily to the ends of the Earth. She'd ended up sunbathing after all, though the distant ball of fire was barely visible behind the cloud cover. He was breathing very shallowly beside her, and he wasn't very warm. "Skip to the part where you relent, please. Who knows how long this interlude lasts? Let's not waste it."</p> <p>He squirmed. "A love from a past life. My bride. Andreea."</p> <p>"How did she die?"</p> <p>He pretended not to hear. "She was magnificently arrogant," he mused. "A true queen. Despised her lessers, acknowledged no betters. Held herself like no man or god had claim on her. Contempt for all the world at once, my god, she was a vision. I saw her in you, the moment you crossed my plank. Felt her certainty in your tread, and the quality of your shoe leather. She fired my heart, as you do."</p> <p>"This was mostly before you were a boat, I imagine."</p> <p>"Yes, long before. I lost no more humanity by taking this form than when I lost her."</p> <p>"How <em>did</em> you lose her?" she tried again.</p> <p>Still he ignored the question, affecting a faraway look as though lost in thought. She considered pinching something sensitive. "Her eyes were cobalt blue, like yours. Hair like honey… like yours, in an earlier day?" She nodded. "Your nose is more presumptuous, and your nostrils flare like an Arabian mare's. You could drive a man to war for that nose."</p> <p>"Was she killed by werewolves?" It was all falling into place, now.</p> <p>He turned to stare at her, surprised. "No. Do you know what a garderobe is?"</p> <p>She shook her head.</p> <p>"Well, she fell down the garderobe in our castle. Took the servants a week to figure out what smelled different in the shit pile."</p> <p>She knew what a garderobe was, now.</p> <p>"Werewolves are just over-rated," he added. "People and their dogs, am I right?"</p> <p>They stayed that way for a few minutes more before Karen sat up, massaging her aching back. As a Level 4 administrator, she had access to the best healthcare paranormalcy could buy. This meant at age 57, she was only physically ten years too old to be engaging in the gymnastics of the past few hours. "I knew someone back at my Site," she told the emerging sun as it sank. "About the age I am now. Hated her job. Always wanted more out of life. Something magical." She shook her head. "Ended up falling in love with a talking dragon, and flying away with it. Probably still out there, somewhere."</p> <p>"Is that what you want?" Stoica asked. "A dragon to sweep you off your feet?"</p> <p>This time, Karen did snort. It was a little late to be playing dainty. "No, I'm too old to elope, and I've had my fill of the sky today. But I <em>could</em> be convinced to take a three-hour cruise."</p> <p>She stepped over the bow railing without the faintest trace of caution. She knew he would catch her, one way or another, if she fell. She felt his hands probing around her waist as she imitated Hollywood's most romantic T-pose, channelling the flush of embarrassment into a wide and careless grin.</p> <p>She hadn't grinned in years.</p> <p>They were dressed to kill again — she'd left only the necklace behind, not wishing to accidentally imitate Kate Winslet in that manner as well — and sailing into the sunset a perfectly matched pair. She could only imagine what a splendid sight they were.</p> <p>"Queen of my world," he whispered in her ear.</p> <p>She turned her head, and muttered almost into his lips: "That's a different scene entirely."</p> <p>"Scene from what?" he replied, and the last rays of the setting sun — finally shining bright, at the close of the day — played upon his face.</p> <p>His face changed.</p> <p>His posture shifted. His colour worsened, except for a nasty purple bruise where his head bent hard against his shoulder. She saw the broken bones and tendons where his neck had been viciously snapped beneath the paper-thin and ghastly white skin — <em>that</em> was what she'd heard when he'd gone behind the wheelhouse — and saw his tongue lolling senselessly from his mouth. The sun had revealed the truth, because of course it had. The boat was a vampire.</p> <p>And Karl Stoica had been dead the entire time.</p> <p>"I've changed my mind."</p> <p>The corpse didn't manage to look offended. Now that the bubble had been burst, she simply couldn't perceive the illusion anymore. She hoped Stoica, or rather the thing inhabiting him, wouldn't notice. "You want to cut the cruise short? It hasn't even been an hour."</p> <p>"No, I want to extend it. Let's fuel up the boiler again, get you a red hot belly full of flame, and you can be my dragon."</p> <p>He led her to the engine compartment with one clammy hand, head still cracking and popping as it gimballed around on his shoulders. She didn't have it in her to gag. This time they'd dressed in spare stokers' clothing, light and airy, their formal outfits neatly folded in the captain's bunk. She suspected Stoica would need his for the funeral; the Foundation's sentimental expenditures budget was tight near to nonexistence. She knew that better than most.</p> <p>She maintained the illusion of helping heap the coal on until the sweat was in both their eyes, then reached into her pants pocket to palm her necklace. Her silver necklace. She tossed it in.</p> <p>The effect was instantaneous. Stoica leapt off the floor as though lightning-struck, then fell to his knees with the squishy crack of pulverizing cartilage. He screamed. He clutched at his chest. He pounded his ribcage. The hull rattled and shook. Rivets popped. The corpse bellowed. "My heart! Faithless witch, you've poisoned my heart!"</p> <p>"I'm not a witch," she snarled. "I'm a <em>bitch.</em> Everyone says so." She picked up the shovel Stoica had dropped, and slammed it against the corner of the boiler. There was a <em>crack,</em> but the handle held. "Call me queen bitch, if you like."</p> <p>"<em>My</em> queen." Stoica reached out for her with one hand, clutching his throat with the other. His mouth didn't move when he talked; it never had. The boat had barely been able to make the body toddle around, shovel coal and turn the wheel. Everything else had been in her head, thanks to the congenital inability to recognize reality distortions which had disqualified her from first responder status. "Why? I would have given you the world! I would have gifted you life eternal! Why?!"</p> <p>"Because you murdered him," she spat. "Like you murdered those guards, and agents, right? In your <em>containment chamber,</em> SCP-6426. Smashed up all the signs and consoles so we wouldn't notice, then snapped my date's neck. None of that was self-defence. You're a monster."</p> <p>"Not self-defence?" The corpse was now shaking like a puppet on a string, broken knees against sackcloth pants rubbing the coal-streaked floor clean. "They locked me up! They drove a stake into my heart! They imprisoned <em>me,</em> ruler of the waves! They wounded the dignity of VAMPIRE BOAT!"</p> <p>"That," she said coldly, "is a fucking stupid name."</p> <p>"YOU are a fucking stupid name!" the voice screamed in her head. "And you are in my power!" The corpse reached out with both hands now, twirling its fingers like a second-rate magician. The eyelids opened wide, the eyes rolled all the way back in its skull, mesmerizing milky orbits penetrating deep into her soul.</p> <p>She blinked, and the connection broke. She blinked again, and it died in the dial-up phase. She laughed. "You really should have asked me what DPHF stands for." She swung the shovel again, and this time the handle snapped in half. The shovel head skittered away. "Dyspercipeal Hyperferoxia."</p> <p>"Meaning <em>what?</em>" the vampire spat, as the corpse masticated its own tongue. There was no blood left to draw.</p> <p>She raised the makeshift stake. "It means my subconscious is an easy mark, but my heart is mine alone."</p> <p>It seemed sufficiently pithy for a deathblow line. She felt reasonably good, under the circumstances, about her delivery of both.</p> <p>"Near as we can tell, it's catatonic." The featureless containment specialist gestured at the creaking hull as a team of workmen re-inserted the naval ram which had once held Vampire Boat immobile. "The cost of pouring all that energy into one vessel, if you'll forgive the pun, then having it destroyed."</p> <p>Stoica, it turned out, wouldn't be needing his suit after all. He'd disintegrated the instant the shovel handle breached his heart.</p> <p>"You're lucky you can't be mind controlled," the man added.</p> <p>"You all are," she agreed. She gave him the chance to react; he let it pass without comment. "And the Shark Punching Center?"</p> <p>She hated saying the words out loud.</p> <p>"We're filing this under 'miscommunications'," the man sighed. "Like, actual miscommunications, not the Department of. They mistook our containment for collaboration with a refugee from their timeline, and Tempura Anomalies takes a dim view of harbouring fugitives. What?"</p> <p>She had begun to smile at the word 'harbouring'.</p> <p>"Nothing. Do you need anything further from me?"</p> <p>The man shook his head. "We have your statement. Sorry you had to go through that ordeal."</p> <p>Had it been an ordeal? She should have felt horrified, betrayed, traumatized. The thought of what could have been…</p> <p>Of course, she could have stayed sat at home, filling out form letters and rubber stamping personnel transfers. Perhaps her psychologist had had a point. A little misadventure now and again couldn't hurt.</p> <p><em>You only just now stopped almost dying every five minutes or less.</em></p> <p>"Yes, well," she murmured to her self as she left the specialists to their work. "Definitely fuck that boat, for sure." She shook her head. <em>No, specifically do <span style="text-decoration: underline;">not</span> fuck that boat.</em></p> <p>Once through the repaired door, she took out her work device and activated the Hiemal app. Her own exasperated face stared up at her. She flicked on the camera, expecting to see herself even more obviously frustrated and exhausted now.</p> <p>After about a minute, she flicked back to the app. It was easy to find the button to delete her account, since nobody was getting paid to retain her. She pressed it.</p> <p>A warning popped up. She had an open romantic connection which had to be closed before she could cancel the service entirely. Stoica's mincing, manipulable, unthreatening face appeared in front of her. Fifty-six years old, probably never had an interesting moment in his sad, pathetic life until today, and he'd been dead for nearly all of it. Dead as she'd felt swirling that glass of red on the seawall and counting the minutes until she could beg off and go home.</p> <p>She neither felt, nor looked, dead now.</p> <p>She cancelled the account deletion. She did swipe left on Stoica first, though, for the symbolism.</p> <p>She didn't care for vampires, dragons, or for that matter, werewolves, but if there were queens left in the world, might there not still be kings as well?</p> <p><em>Princes,</em> she amended with a smile. A prince would know his place — and if not, well, then she could enjoy reminding him.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>For an alternate take, see <a href="/interview-with-a-vampire-boat">What does B stand for?</a> by <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=1730032434" 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>!</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="/the-ship-of-screams">The Ship of Screams</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-ship-of-screams">https://scpwiki.com/the-ship-of-screams</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> Asterisk43.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=1730032434" 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</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a> fade=a]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + The Ship of Screams @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ + ##990011\|2023## ++ 26 May [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][[[http://scp-int.wikidot.com/einrichtung-dossier-standort-de16\|Site DE-16]]]: The Salzhaff, Bay of Wismar, Federal Republic of Germany[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- Karen hadn't thought to specify that her ideal romantic partner would not be a sopping wet milquetoast. She hadn't thought it necessary. The AIC which ran the Foundation's internal dating service had asked for her personnel file, and she had provided it. That should have been sufficient to weed out any spineless bores who might swipe right based entirely on looks -- despite the death glare in her profile picture -- and thereby sign up for an evening full of hurt. If not, her self-description ought to have done the trick. She'd been brutally honest: she was doing this so her Site's top psychologist could check a box on a form that Karen herself, as that Site's chief administrator, needed to submit to the Director. The form attested that Karen was emotionally healthy, and could be relied upon to continue her decades of faithful service without risk of a sudden mental breakdown. The psychologist had refused to sweep her pen across the page, because unfortunately she knew Karen socially and not well enough to lie on her behalf. In retrospect, she should have alternated between doing paperwork in her office after hours and doing it in the little bungalow she owned in Grand Bend, allowing her to claim that she was entertaining gentlemen on occasion. As it stood she had no excuse, and so had been forced to place the fate of this enchanted evening in the digital hands of Hiemal. She would have done better to grab someone off the street. This had to be some sort of joke. "More wine, Dr. Elstrom?" her date simpered. She mentally added an 'h' to the noun, and responded "No thank you, Dr. Stoica." The tall, lean, grey haired man slouched over the seawall railing in defeat, bottle of cheap red three quarters full beside him. He couldn't have been a worse fit for his own name. She fiddled idly with the silver necklace around her neck, and fought the urge to sigh. She wasn't all dressed up for nothing, since dressing up was something on its own, but she'd expected at least //some// entertainment this evening which she hadn't brought with her. They stared out over the cloudy Bay of Wismar, an eagle's talon of channels servicing the Foundation's wet and drydocks. She nursed her still-full glass, idly rotating her right thigh and stretching out the long leg to strike a more striking pose. She wasn't doing it consciously, though of course she did notice. At least one of them was making this look good. "Would you like to see the perimeter?" Stoica asked, not turning to face her. "Or, uh... take a tour of the underground facilities?" Karen had no intention of entering an interior space with him. His intentions were noble, she had no doubt; he lacked the imagination to be lascivious. But she wasn't about to reward him for depriving her of interesting company, even if the warm breeze off the bay was moderately pleasant. "No thank you," she repeated. "In fact, I think I should be--" The outline of his sagging face was seared into her eyes as a bright white light filled the air around it, and then he was on top of her, and the warm breeze was hot as flame. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Her ears were ringing. This wasn't the first piece of sensory data to reach her brain after the explosion, because she hadn't passed out, but it was the first to really stick because it was still relevant when she was no longer in imminent danger. On well-trained emergency autopilot she had towed Stoica across the manicured green while falling bombs punched deep impact craters all around them, bursting in brilliant flashes of light but no heat, as warning sirens wailed and engines roared overhead. She was almost to the warehouse before she really saw it, had her ID card in her hand before she saw the reader on the door, had the door open before she felt the impact of plastic against the screen. She didn't even feel the strain from hauling her date behind her until the door was closed again, so instinctual was her response to the attack. You didn't reach your fifties at the Foundation without acquiring swift and decisive disaster reflexes. "Oh my god," Stoica wheezed. This was his first reaction to what had happened; apparently he was the exception to the rule. He doubled over, gasping for breath. He wasn't overweight, but in a way Karen had never remotely been, he was certainly out of shape. "I didn't even see it start. Are you a first responder or something?" She shook her head. "Don't qualify. I have DPHF." This was still a sore point for her all these long years later, but they had moved well beyond the coy little dance of teasing out personal details in return for agreeable flirtations. This was life or death. "I don't know what that is," he responded predictably. Karen had already defined him as a man who didn't know things. She resolved to tell him later, when they had more time. "It doesn't matter. Find the lights." He unbent, face pale behind his bushy grey moustache and bushy grey eyebrows, and cast about uselessly on their little island of illuminated concrete. Only an emergency bulb over the door was lit. "I've never been in this sector," he muttered. "I only started work here last week." This tracked. Hiemal had given her a date who lived halfway across the world, in flagrant violation of her set preferences. That apparently sometimes happened when personnel transferred from station to station, when the system didn't have time to update. She'd only agreed to meet Stoica after realizing that a long distance relationship would take less effort to fake, achieving her goal with a minimum of socializing. "Look anyway. I'm trying the comms." She took out her pager, and began hitting buttons. "I could try comms." Stoica patted the grey brick walls sullenly. "And don't speak. Hello? This is Dr. Elstrom, L4. Instructions?" A calm male voice responded. "Seek cover. If possible, evacuate the area. Prioritize the bay." "Copy." She winced as the floor shook; another of those curious non-explosions, just outside by the sound of it. Stoica whimpered in the dark. The lights came on. They were standing in a large concrete boathouse, dominated by what looked to Karen's maritimeless eye -- when on boats, she preferred to sunbathe until the ordeal was over -- like an old timey harbour tug. There were signs and consoles everywhere, all smashed to pieces. There was a hole in the roof far above, and fallen masonry and structural steel every which where. "This place isn't safe." Karen turned to the door. "We'll be flattened when the roof comes down." "I'm not going back out there!" Stoica whined without conviction. "You'll do whatever I tell you," she snapped, and then as though in punctuation another blast went off, closer than ever before, and the wall shook and the door visibly buckled. Stoica reached for the handle, and Karen slapped his hand away. "Don't touch it now, you idiot! You could bring the entire wall down." "What should I do, then?" the grown man sulked at her. "Anything I ask, and nothing more. Don't touch anything, don't say anything, don't back talk me. I'm in charge." She didn't wait for a response, instead walking to the end of the pier and assessing the state of the twin boathouse doors. They seemed undamaged. "Hmm." She headed for the gangplank, miraculously still in place. "We're taking cover in there?" Stoica asked dubiously, against her instructions. "It doesn't look like it can take a beating. More like it already has." She stepped daintily onto the rusty deck with her black Manolo Blahnik shoes, adjusting her dress for longer strides. "It won't have to take much more. We're taking it out." "How is out better than--" She turned to present him with the glare that had already failed to deflect his interest, hoping it had more effect in person. "Dr. Stoica, you have no expertise relevant to this scenario. I do. Furthermore you lack both the courage and the ingenuity to react appropriately to an emergent situation. If you don't stop talking right now, I will render you unconscious with my taser as though you'd gotten handsy with me on the seawall. I have made myself clear." She considered the scene for a half-second more, not wanting to see the man's face fall further. "Go around back," she gestured at the wheelhouse, "and check for an anchor line. If there is one, haul it up. We're leaving." He disappeared behind the wall of the cabin. Karen busied herself with undoing the high strength mooring lines on both sides; the concrete formed a staple-shaped arc around the stern of the ship. There was a wet sort of snapping sound from the stern as she started on the starboard side, and she called out: "What was that?" "I don't know. But there's no anchor," Stoica called back. His voice had lost the shell shock of moments prior, likely due to her expert dressing-down. She hoped he remained pliable until she could ditch him with the security staff. She glanced over the edge of the hull, and blanched. Two figures in labcoats, a man and a woman, and four male agents lay face down in the water below. If they'd been there the entire time, they were either breathing water or long dead. The ruby cloud enveloping them was another clue. "Whatever hit this place killed everyone inside," she called out again without looking away. "All the more reason to get the hell out." "Quite." She nearly jumped out of her skin to find Stoica standing beside her. His face was even paler than before, and he did not look over the rail. She'd been too intent on the carnage to hear him approach. "Yes," he agreed again. "We should leave. Now." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Stoica disappeared into the bowels of the boat while Karen familiarized herself with the controls. By the time she thought she had it all figured out, a deep rumble rose up in the planks beneath her feet. Red dust billowed outside the wheelhouse, revealing oddly shiny metal underneath. Perhaps the rust was a blind, hiding the vehicle's true nature from curious civilian eyes? The old tub might get them out of here after all. "Ready to go." Stoica emerged from the hatch to the lower decks. "Where did you learn how to start a tugboat engine?" He chuckled. His voice had dropped at least an octave since their flaccid waterfront picnic. "I've done a few crossings in my time. Once piloted a sailing ship to shore all my lonesome. This is nothing." She granted him an appraising glance. He was standing taller, footing more sure, shoulders back, head cocked curiously to one side. He seemed more self-assured, more comfortable in his own skin. Had his challenges to her leadership been a test, or was he simply more in his element on a boat? If it was the latter, so much the better for their chances. She'd fished the remote control for the doors out of the pile of rubble on the pier. They were lucky it hadn't been in the hands of one of the dead scientists or guards. When she pressed the big green button, the thing actually fizzled audibly in her hand. As the doors swung open grudgingly against the pressure of the water within, a thin wet trickle emerged from between the button and its depression to roll down her wrist. It must've been doused when the ceiling fell into the berth. She tossed the remote aside, not wanting to get electrocuted. She eased the tug out. There was a hideous scraping sound from the bow, and she hurried out to the rail to see what they were dragging. A strange wooden shape like a keel turned upside-down slid along the hull, disentangling itself from a nasty gouge just above the waterline. The damage didn't look bad enough for them to start shipping water. There were pieces of corrugated steel from the roof on top of the bizarre wooden spar, suggesting that the roof falling in had also dislodged this strange alien component from the bow scar. Strange. The boat made it out of its house regardless, into the waters of the bay. South in the harbour they could see an aircraft carrier painted in curious livery, launching planes toward the Site. More of the invisible explosions were levelling outbuildings and shooting down fighter craft scrambling from the airstrip. The latter flew apart soundlessly and bloodlessly, parachutes deploying every time. It was a curiously non-fatal fracas. The radio crackled. "Unknown vessel. These waters are now under the authority of the," and Karen thought she heard 'Temporal Anomalies Department', though something didn't sound quite right and anyway that didn't make sense. "You will reverse your present course, or suffer the wrath of the //Boxer.// Please respond." "We can outrun them," Stoica declared confidently. She was still getting used to the idea that he could do anything with confidence. "Pour on the gas, and let's take a pleasure cruise." She barely suppressed a smile as she pushed the lever forward, her injunction against his speech forgotten. "Awfully bold all of a sudden, aren't we?" "It's a dramatic day." The ship's bow began to rise and fall in the choppy water. "And we're both dressed for theatre, so why not give them a show?" The assertiveness did wonders for him. What had just minutes before been a sunken-cheeked vision of middle aged surrender now seemed noble, almost imperial. Stoica had obviously missed his calling as a ship's captain. There was nothing but open water ahead. Stoica set down primly in a couch behind the conn. After a moment's consideration, Karen joined him. "This is one of the more eventful dates I've been on." She didn't say it was the //most,// because it wasn't. She also didn't mention how much time had elapsed since she'd enjoyed even a dull romantic excursion. "Have I made a good impression?" Stoica's grey eyes gleamed with both high interest and an unsuspected mirth. "Not at the outset," she admitted. "But you're improving." "Ah." He nodded. "Well, perhaps we should start over again, Karen." He hadn't called her anything but 'Dr. Elstrom' up to that moment. She shrugged amiably. "If you like, Karl. We've got nothing but time." He folded his hands in his lap aristocratically. "Then we are both incalculably rich." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Stoica had become such an expert conversationalist that Karen wanted to check him for head trauma. He regaled her with stories that under normal circumstances couldn't possibly be true. A Romanian village nearly flattened by a tentacular beast only thwarted when it broke into the local silver mine and poisoned itself. A prolific serial killer stalking Indonesia during the Krakatoa eruption of 1883 who had never been caught, having disappeared into thin air when the ash clouds finally lifted. A ship which had inexplicably sunk after its hold was filled with garlic, only to re-emerge from the deeps with the entire cargo disgorged. Stoica's relationship to these tales was unclear, but Karen didn't much care. He told them well, with a mellifluous baritone and a strong sense of moment. His delivery was hypnotic. "But enough about me." If he'd yet offered a single scrap of information about himself, Karen hadn't caught it. "What about you?" Karen considered. She'd spent twenty-plus years in one of the world's most fascinating workplaces, but when asked to relate any of it herself... well. There was one story she could lay claim to, but it was rather personal, and she hadn't brought it up a single time since it had occurred. She glanced her date up and down, calculating, then made the decision. She was getting too old to be hung up on the past. "Werewolves." She felt very vulnerable starting this story, like she was baring her jugular. "I was placed in charge of my Site before I was ready, and we were handling an anomaly exchange. These werewolves--" "I don't care to hear about //werewolves,//" Stoica barked. He stood and disappeared down the stairs to the lower compartments, leaving Karen alone on the couch in shock. She sat there for a moment, left eye twitching, feeling very foolish and exposed before leaping to her feet and storming after him. "Where do you get off?" she shouted at the back of his tuxedo. "I don't," he replied over his shoulder. He was heading for the engine room. "Turn around when I'm speaking to you!" He spun in place, one finger raised in a regal gesture of protest. "I am unaccustomed to taking orders." She shook her head in disbelief. "The hierarchy here is very simple, Karl. I'm in charge." She advanced on him, matching his finger with one of her own. Hers were longer. "I don't answer to you!" "I'm a full clearance level higher!" "I'm the one who understands the boat!" "I'm the one with a consistent personality!" The sound of vibrating pistons, amplified by the hull, surrounded them. They were screaming at each other to be heard over it. "My secrets are my own," he growled. "You have not earned the privilege." It was hard to change tack in this cacophony, but Karen made a college try. "You don't get to pick me up in an Audi, playing Michael Bolton on CD, then play the sexy and mysterious card!" "You think I'm sexy?" He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. She nearly busted them for him when she realized she could hear the sound of the blood in her ears. The engines had stopped. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "What's going on? Are we out of fuel?" They were both very badly dressed for the engine room. It was sleek and shiny, but still unmistakably industrial. "Not as such." Stoica removed his suit jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "There's plenty more, but it needs loading." "Loading," she repeated as the man removed a wide, flat ended shovel from a wall mounted tool rack. "Yes." Stoica walked over to what Karen now recognized as a coal hopper. "You mind opening the boiler door, or are menial tasks beneath you?" She placed both hands on her hips, a gesture which an entire generation of employees at Site-43 had learned to dread. "There is absolutely no way this tug runs on //coal.//" "Believe what you want." Stoica opened the boiler himself, and started shovelling. "But if you don't help me warm up this old boat's heart, that carrier is going to catch us." She watched him stoke the flame until she could feel the heat from the back of the compartment. She watched him strip to the waist, taking care to place his clean white shirt out of reach of the rising cloud of coal dust, and she wasn't sure whether to be more intrigued by how much more physically fit he seemed than she'd thought -- posture counted for so much -- or his concern for the state of his wardrobe. She liked a man who kept up appearances. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to be able to get the boiler up to full blast without help, despite making a near-heroic go of it, she headed to the fore compartments for a moment. She returned in her underwear, plain and utilitarian; she hadn't expected anyone, least of all Stoica, to see them today. As means of disrobing one's date went, this was surely novel. He made no effort at all to disguise the fact that he found the achievement agreeable. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] O we are damned to die below As off to war the triremes go Through strain and spit the music grows The whip that cracks, the oars that row [[/=]] [[/div]] She was surprised to hear him sing, and astonished to find that he was good at it. He hit every ominous note with practiced ease. They timed their motions to the steady rhythm, and before long the fuel was heaped high and the fire was stifling hot. His muscles shone with sweat, and her underwear soon left nothing at all to the imagination. If either of them had been inclined to find it titillating, the accumulation of black dust on their wet skin baking blacker took the shine off rapidly. They were both in complete and total coalface by the time Stoica slammed the boiler shut, and declared the job well done. They staggered back onto the bridge, then onto the deck. Karen could barely feel the wind through her protective layer of grime. The carrier was a distant stretch of detached horizon, heaving to, abandoning the pursuit. A small flotilla of angry-looking frigates, bristling with guns, was approaching from the Site. Bigger fish to fry. They'd made it. Stoica went back down to stop the engines while Karen walked to the stern, where an access ladder led to and from the waterline. She stripped off her filthy garments, piled them neatly on the captain's console, then climbed down. The water was warm, but felt ice cold in comparison to the slowly abating heat of the engine room. She fancied it sizzled as the coal armour coating her body ablated in sticky sheets while she hung from the ladder and felt the tug gradually lose its head of steam. When the boat had slowed to a backcrawl, she let go the ladder and dunked her head underwater. A few vigorous scrubs cleaned her face and hair of the worst of it; when she surfaced, the water was filthy but the filth was floating back toward the bay. She repeated the action, completing her ablutions just in time to see Stoica two-hand sliding down the ladder towards her. She nearly shouted a warning, but the man neatly sidestepped at the last possible second to catch the stern's narrow lip. He bent down to smile at her. "All better?" He was still caked with grime. "It's an improvement." She scrubbed at her arms and legs, conscious that the water afforded precious little cover but not wholly uncomfortable with that fact. Against all odds, the milquetoast had earned himself a little intimacy. "You are a thing of grace," the man remarked mildly as he squatted down. "I think you must have been a queen, in a past life." She wanted to snort, but snorting was undignified. She scoffed instead. "Royals are rarely beautiful. 'Good breeding' is just a euphemism for 'inbreeding'. I'd be a hag by now if I were a queen." Stoica laughed. It sounded nothing like any sound he'd made on land. "And you know you're no hag. I like that you see yourself so clearly, Karen. Is that one source of the authority you project?" Something about what he'd said set a bell ringing in the back of her brain. She knew from experience that it would resolve into words eventually, and figured she could afford to wait. "Authority comes from making mistakes until you know how to stop. That's all." He inclined his head. He'd done that a lot since crossing the gangplank. "Hardly //all.// There's also knowing your own worth, and the worth of those around you. I could tell when you spoke with," and he shifted his position as the boat rocked suddenly to port, "me in the boathouse, that ruling comes naturally to you. You were in the presence of a peon, and acted accordingly." She narrowed her eyes. "You're not much of a peon anymore, Karl. Was that all an act?" He shrugged. "I leave it to your interpretation. Things are not always as they seem." He leaned forward, no doubt getting a better look. "You're not wrong." She bobbed up and out of the water, like a mermaid, and planted a quick kiss on his soot-stained lips. The taste was sour. She looked down as she sank back in, and suddenly realized what was wrong. The words rang out loud and clear. Stoica was leaning out over the water. //He has no reflection.// And that wasn't the worst of it. //Neither does the boat.// She didn't cover up. That ship had long since sailed, and there was anyway little modesty in her makeup. Instead, she simply asked: "Who are you? Really?" Stoica blinked, then seemed to realize his error. He sighed. "I'd hoped we'd have more time to get acquainted before you noticed. I suppose you'll get all //professional// on me, now. I'd almost be disappointed to be wrong." "You're connected to the boat." It wasn't a question. "I am the boat." It was her turn to blink. She suddenly remembered the timing of his transformation from wilting violet to regal rose, and cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. "You took Stoica when I sent him for the anchor." The thing in Stoica's body nodded. "He's not bothered, if that's what's bothering you. Your little assignation was going very poorly for him, and I've been doing much better." "Will you let him go?" "I could, but that would deprive us of our best means of communicating." She placed both hands on the ladder rail experimentally. He made no move to interfere. "You're not going to drown me? Or leave me behind?" He laughed again. It still sounded genuine. "If I had wanted you dead and gone, Karen, you would never have made it this far. Once the doors were open, I didn't need you. No, this is all about desire now." There was nothing in her training about self-defence against boats, but she was sure she could improvise. She hadn't been lying about the taser before, though she'd left it with her necklace and clothes. "If I'm going to come aboard... you, again..." She saw him smirk. "...I'll at least want to know your real name." "That is only fair." He stood, looking almost majestic despite taking the form of a barrel chested middle aged man with too much moustache, a receding hairline, dusty dress pants and sweat-soaked cast of coal. "My name is [[[/scp-6426\|Vampire Boat]]]." He didn't hear her burst out laughing, because another bomb burst right beside them and showered the ship with an almighty roar. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The radio was blaring as Karen scurried nude across the deck. There were planes in the sky, ugly boxy things with bright red bulbous noses which barely looked capable of flight, and they were dropping those strange percussive devices willy-nilly. She'd been drenched twice by the spray while climbing the ladder, and nearly lost her grip. "Dr. Elstrom!" She'd left her pager on the console with her underwear, and the dispatcher was shouting. "Hostiles have targeted 6426." Four digits, an SCP number. The one she was standing on? "Attempts at negotiation have failed. We cannot assure your safety. Take cover." "//I// can assure it," Stoica -- she didn't have time to think of him as anything more complex -- declared. "Get below. I'll handle this." "That body is as vulnerable as mine." She knew her duty. "I'm staying up here to make sure you don't ruin it." "Fine." Stoica took the wheel, which gave her all manner of strange thoughts. "But stay out of the line of fire if you can. This is bound to get messy, and I don't want you hurt." She had a strange feeling that the body-hijacking sapient boat was finally telling her the truth about something. A trio of the ugly jets growled overhead, their payloads splashing down and splashing up in the tug's path. "Vampire Boat," the voice from earlier returned over the radio. "You have been identified. You will be pummelled. Do not resist." "I am going to resist," Stoica murmured. "They're bluffing. If they were going to blast you, they wouldn't bother threatening first. They want you to surrender." "You have witnesses on board," the voice continued. "By order of the Tempura Anomalies Department," and this time Karen heard it loud and clear, "this is unacceptable. Neutralize them, and you will be shown mercy." "Okay," she said. "Maybe they aren't bluffing. How do you know these people? Who are they?" Stoica sighed, and opened his mouth to answer. The radio cut him off. "You will now be boarded. Sock. Pummel. Combat." "They're from where I'm from." Stoica gripped the tug's wheel tightly, which Karen found intriguing but didn't have time to muse too closely on. "They're weirder than I am, but I am worse." The planes were coming in for another pass. A shape detached itself from the lead craft, falling toward them. Two more followed suit from its wingmen. "That's not much of an explanation." He pointed out the wheelhouse window. "If you can't figure it out from that, the answer won't make sense anyway." The first of the shapes crashed down on the bow, splintering wood momentarily obscured by a cloud of red dust. It was humanoid -- an exoskeleton, painted teal, with thick fists on both arms and both legs. The feet-fists mercilessly pounded the deck as it advanced, hand-fists pumping at the air with pneumatic anticipation. There was an insignia on each shoulder, a distorted Foundation emblem with fists instead of arrows. "What," Karen said, "is //that.//" "My past returns to haunt me," said Stoica. "That normally means an old girlfriend showing up. Not..." She waved at the window. "Whatever--" The other two attackers landed, flanking the leader. Karen opened her mouth to finish her interrupted sentence... and the first attacker closed the distance between them in a single bound, a single //instant,// launched by its spring loaded fist-feet. It struck the window and shattered it with one mighty blow, filling the wheelhouse with powdered glass. One mechanical hand pulled back, clenched, then struck at her like a pile driver. It didn't connect. A wall of red gristle shot up from the floor, the boards bending aside to let them pass. Suckers on the end drilled into the cabin roof with tiny teeth, like limpets, a dozen thick strands screening her from the incoming fist and redirecting its kinetic energy like a rubber band. Or a slingshot. The owner was flung back toward the bow, and the filament curtain immediately dropped back away so that Karen could see the deck plates under a second attacker collapse, reforming again once it had fallen in. A sequence of squeals, not all of them metal, echoed up from the open hatch, then a sound like a giant swallowing hard, then silence. The glass on the window grew back into place like ice sheeting out on a lake, and the air filled with dissipating rust. //It's eating them, and healing itself.// She remembered, //Vampire Boat.// The third attacker raised both fists to strike, but the tendrils struck it first. They crept across the gunwales, out of portholes down below and smokestacks up above, pulling its arms taut across the deck and binding its feet to the shifting boards. When the motors in the exoskeleton whirred to life, they tore its arms clean off. The hungry red feelers shot through the new armour gaps, and devoured the man inside. She knew it was a man by the tone of his screaming. "Won't lose her again," Stoica murmured. He was standing unsteadily. Karen placed one hand on his back, to brace him. The lead attacker had righted itself, and kicked its feet-fists up into the air. Rockets kept it hovering in place as it pointed all four fists at the bridge, the springs sprang... ...and a hundred organic harpoons cris-crossed its body, shredding it in midair. A solid curtain of wet human and twisted metal smashed into the window, and was gradually absorbed. When the glass was clear again, Karen could see the deck was immaculate. Not a spot of rust to be seen. The planes came around for another pass. The horizon... disappeared. Karen walked out of the wheelhouse, ambled around the back like she was on a Sunday stroll -- //It's Friday,// she thought dreamily -- and looked over the bulb of the stern. They were rising into the air, the surface of the water rapidly retreating. Already they were dozens of feet up. How did that work? She turned back to see the distant specks growing nearer. The deck rose up to meet them. The bow split open in a horizontal maw, and she gripped a stanchion to chance a look down through it. Three hundred feet, four hundred, five hundred feet below, the lower hull was squirming on the Baltic Sea. It was still under power. The upper decks were suspended at low flight altitude by straining, pulsating pillars of angry red flesh. "Hold on," a voice from the wheelhouse told her unnecessarily. It wasn't remotely human. The jaws opened so wide that they formed an almost straight line. Karen clutched the stanchion until her fingers ached. The planes plunged toward her. They were shaped like boxing gloves. The ship snapped shut. And they were gone. There was an explosion. She was blown up off her feet, and something soft and slimy caught and slid her back down to safety. The hull rumbled. It rocked. It roared, literally, like a tyrannosaur enraged or engorged or in heat. It sank, sank, sank, until she could see the horizon again. The sun was approaching it, tentatively, as though rubbernecking at the inexplicable carnage below. She stood in the middle of the deck, stock still, stark naked, and watched the contrails above melt into the evening cloudscape. Stoica stumbled out of the wheelhouse. All the ash had been washed off of him by bucketloads of sweat. Except for his soaked hair, he was as pristine as the tug he was an extension of. "Ask me again how you're doing," she said. Her voice sounded high and frantic. "What kind of an impression you're making." He shook his head. "I'm well aware." She pushed him over. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "Who was she?" "Who was who?" Karen prodded him in the stomach. He didn't react. "You said you wouldn't let it happen to her again. During the battle. Who did you lose?" "I was out of it. Strained. Just babbling." They were laying on the deck as the sun crept lazily to the ends of the Earth. She'd ended up sunbathing after all, though the distant ball of fire was barely visible behind the cloud cover. He was breathing very shallowly beside her, and he wasn't very warm. "Skip to the part where you relent, please. Who knows how long this interlude lasts? Let's not waste it." He squirmed. "A love from a past life. My bride. Andreea." "How did she die?" He pretended not to hear. "She was magnificently arrogant," he mused. "A true queen. Despised her lessers, acknowledged no betters. Held herself like no man or god had claim on her. Contempt for all the world at once, my god, she was a vision. I saw her in you, the moment you crossed my plank. Felt her certainty in your tread, and the quality of your shoe leather. She fired my heart, as you do." "This was mostly before you were a boat, I imagine." "Yes, long before. I lost no more humanity by taking this form than when I lost her." "How //did// you lose her?" she tried again. Still he ignored the question, affecting a faraway look as though lost in thought. She considered pinching something sensitive. "Her eyes were cobalt blue, like yours. Hair like honey... like yours, in an earlier day?" She nodded. "Your nose is more presumptuous, and your nostrils flare like an Arabian mare's. You could drive a man to war for that nose." "Was she killed by werewolves?" It was all falling into place, now. He turned to stare at her, surprised. "No. Do you know what a garderobe is?" She shook her head. "Well, she fell down the garderobe in our castle. Took the servants a week to figure out what smelled different in the shit pile." She knew what a garderobe was, now. "Werewolves are just over-rated," he added. "People and their dogs, am I right?" They stayed that way for a few minutes more before Karen sat up, massaging her aching back. As a Level 4 administrator, she had access to the best healthcare paranormalcy could buy. This meant at age 57, she was only physically ten years too old to be engaging in the gymnastics of the past few hours. "I knew someone back at my Site," she told the emerging sun as it sank. "About the age I am now. Hated her job. Always wanted more out of life. Something magical." She shook her head. "Ended up falling in love with a talking dragon, and flying away with it. Probably still out there, somewhere." "Is that what you want?" Stoica asked. "A dragon to sweep you off your feet?" This time, Karen did snort. It was a little late to be playing dainty. "No, I'm too old to elope, and I've had my fill of the sky today. But I //could// be convinced to take a three-hour cruise." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] She stepped over the bow railing without the faintest trace of caution. She knew he would catch her, one way or another, if she fell. She felt his hands probing around her waist as she imitated Hollywood's most romantic T-pose, channelling the flush of embarrassment into a wide and careless grin. She hadn't grinned in years. They were dressed to kill again -- she'd left only the necklace behind, not wishing to accidentally imitate Kate Winslet in that manner as well -- and sailing into the sunset a perfectly matched pair. She could only imagine what a splendid sight they were. "Queen of my world," he whispered in her ear. She turned her head, and muttered almost into his lips: "That's a different scene entirely." "Scene from what?" he replied, and the last rays of the setting sun -- finally shining bright, at the close of the day -- played upon his face. His face changed. His posture shifted. His colour worsened, except for a nasty purple bruise where his head bent hard against his shoulder. She saw the broken bones and tendons where his neck had been viciously snapped beneath the paper-thin and ghastly white skin -- //that// was what she'd heard when he'd gone behind the wheelhouse -- and saw his tongue lolling senselessly from his mouth. The sun had revealed the truth, because of course it had. The boat was a vampire. And Karl Stoica had been dead the entire time. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "I've changed my mind." The corpse didn't manage to look offended. Now that the bubble had been burst, she simply couldn't perceive the illusion anymore. She hoped Stoica, or rather the thing inhabiting him, wouldn't notice. "You want to cut the cruise short? It hasn't even been an hour." "No, I want to extend it. Let's fuel up the boiler again, get you a red hot belly full of flame, and you can be my dragon." He led her to the engine compartment with one clammy hand, head still cracking and popping as it gimballed around on his shoulders. She didn't have it in her to gag. This time they'd dressed in spare stokers' clothing, light and airy, their formal outfits neatly folded in the captain's bunk. She suspected Stoica would need his for the funeral; the Foundation's sentimental expenditures budget was tight near to nonexistence. She knew that better than most. She maintained the illusion of helping heap the coal on until the sweat was in both their eyes, then reached into her pants pocket to palm her necklace. Her silver necklace. She tossed it in. The effect was instantaneous. Stoica leapt off the floor as though lightning-struck, then fell to his knees with the squishy crack of pulverizing cartilage. He screamed. He clutched at his chest. He pounded his ribcage. The hull rattled and shook. Rivets popped. The corpse bellowed. "My heart! Faithless witch, you've poisoned my heart!" "I'm not a witch," she snarled. "I'm a //bitch.// Everyone says so." She picked up the shovel Stoica had dropped, and slammed it against the corner of the boiler. There was a //crack,// but the handle held. "Call me queen bitch, if you like." "//My// queen." Stoica reached out for her with one hand, clutching his throat with the other. His mouth didn't move when he talked; it never had. The boat had barely been able to make the body toddle around, shovel coal and turn the wheel. Everything else had been in her head, thanks to the congenital inability to recognize reality distortions which had disqualified her from first responder status. "Why? I would have given you the world! I would have gifted you life eternal! Why?!" "Because you murdered him," she spat. "Like you murdered those guards, and agents, right? In your //containment chamber,// SCP-6426. Smashed up all the signs and consoles so we wouldn't notice, then snapped my date's neck. None of that was self-defence. You're a monster." "Not self-defence?" The corpse was now shaking like a puppet on a string, broken knees against sackcloth pants rubbing the coal-streaked floor clean. "They locked me up! They drove a stake into my heart! They imprisoned //me,// ruler of the waves! They wounded the dignity of VAMPIRE BOAT!" "That," she said coldly, "is a fucking stupid name." "YOU are a fucking stupid name!" the voice screamed in her head. "And you are in my power!" The corpse reached out with both hands now, twirling its fingers like a second-rate magician. The eyelids opened wide, the eyes rolled all the way back in its skull, mesmerizing milky orbits penetrating deep into her soul. She blinked, and the connection broke. She blinked again, and it died in the dial-up phase. She laughed. "You really should have asked me what DPHF stands for." She swung the shovel again, and this time the handle snapped in half. The shovel head skittered away. "Dyspercipeal Hyperferoxia." "Meaning //what?//" the vampire spat, as the corpse masticated its own tongue. There was no blood left to draw. She raised the makeshift stake. "It means my subconscious is an easy mark, but my heart is mine alone." It seemed sufficiently pithy for a deathblow line. She felt reasonably good, under the circumstances, about her delivery of both. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "Near as we can tell, it's catatonic." The featureless containment specialist gestured at the creaking hull as a team of workmen re-inserted the naval ram which had once held Vampire Boat immobile. "The cost of pouring all that energy into one vessel, if you'll forgive the pun, then having it destroyed." Stoica, it turned out, wouldn't be needing his suit after all. He'd disintegrated the instant the shovel handle breached his heart. "You're lucky you can't be mind controlled," the man added. "You all are," she agreed. She gave him the chance to react; he let it pass without comment. "And the Shark Punching Center?" She hated saying the words out loud. "We're filing this under 'miscommunications'," the man sighed. "Like, actual miscommunications, not the Department of. They mistook our containment for collaboration with a refugee from their timeline, and Tempura Anomalies takes a dim view of harbouring fugitives. What?" She had begun to smile at the word 'harbouring'. "Nothing. Do you need anything further from me?" The man shook his head. "We have your statement. Sorry you had to go through that ordeal." Had it been an ordeal? She should have felt horrified, betrayed, traumatized. The thought of what could have been... Of course, she could have stayed sat at home, filling out form letters and rubber stamping personnel transfers. Perhaps her psychologist had had a point. A little misadventure now and again couldn't hurt. //You only just now stopped almost dying every five minutes or less.// "Yes, well," she murmured to her self as she left the specialists to their work. "Definitely fuck that boat, for sure." She shook her head. //No, specifically do __not__ fuck that boat.// Once through the repaired door, she took out her work device and activated the Hiemal app. Her own exasperated face stared up at her. She flicked on the camera, expecting to see herself even more obviously frustrated and exhausted now. After about a minute, she flicked back to the app. It was easy to find the button to delete her account, since nobody was getting paid to retain her. She pressed it. A warning popped up. She had an open romantic connection which had to be closed before she could cancel the service entirely. Stoica's mincing, manipulable, unthreatening face appeared in front of her. Fifty-six years old, probably never had an interesting moment in his sad, pathetic life until today, and he'd been dead for nearly all of it. Dead as she'd felt swirling that glass of red on the seawall and counting the minutes until she could beg off and go home. She neither felt, nor looked, dead now. She cancelled the account deletion. She did swipe left on Stoica first, though, for the symbolism. She didn't care for vampires, dragons, or for that matter, werewolves, but if there were queens left in the world, might there not still be kings as well? //Princes,// she amended with a smile. A prince would know his place -- and if not, well, then she could enjoy reminding him. ---- [[=]] *For an alternate take, see [[[/interview-with-a-vampire-boat\|What does B stand for?]]] by [[user Crow-Cat]]! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] > Filename: Asterisk43.png > Author:** [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-05-29T10:02:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "action", "bittersweet", "doctor-elstrom", "fantasy", "horror", "on-guard-43", "romance", "romcon2023-unofficial", "shark-punching-center", "tale" ]	The Ship of Screams - SCP Foundation	64	[ "scp-6426", "interview-with-a-vampire-boat", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "spc-hub", "romcon", "doctors-of-the-church-hub", "bitch-hub" ]	[ "http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png" ]	1447964425	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-ship-of-screams
the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="header-container"> <div class="text-item"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Lampeter Registrar</span></h1> <h2 id="toc1"><span>The SmogWastes of NeoAmerica</span></h2> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <p>The megacities of NeoAmerica lie among the furthest reaches of <a href="/scp-7005">the Lampeter network</a>, like a ring of distant mountains shrouded in smog. Every one of these cities is unique and magical, replete with nooks and crannies, stuffed with secrets stolen from other cities, other worlds. No multiversal sojourner has truly seen a city until they have seen a NeoAmerican megacity.</p> <p>In Universe Eastboard-12A, the American Eastern Seaboard Megacity stretches from former Boston to Atlanta, and the cobbled streets of old Boston, the silver spires of old New York, and the art deco towers of old Atlanta are cast in permanent neon twilight by the sky-spanning tracks of the Maglev of '89. In Universe ChicagIllinoi-89B, the American NorthMidWestern Megacity spans from former New York to Chicago to Washington D.C., connected by millions of crisscrossing subway charnel tunnels, through which the Chicago Revenants, the Sons of Liberty, and the Old Yorkers politic their eternal war. All are ultimately similar, marching arrays of urban spires. Each is unique in its own way, yet jumping from City to City one could be forgiven for thinking one had barely journeyed at all.</p> <p>The least navigable universes are those without mass transportation, not even the ubiquitous subway train or zeppelin ferry. These universes <em>require</em> automobiles to traverse; the sole conduits between sparse islands of civilization are highways, which coil upon themselves, labyrinthine knots of transport that enmesh the beating hearts of human civilization, like eggs in nests woven of thorns. These megacities sprout from poisoned seed: cities already crumbling upon their own weight, whether they be Los Angeles or American Peking. Smoggy, unwalkable, concrete.</p> <p>The Lampeter network is unreliable in these worlds. Usually, it can be traversed under one's own power — enter an unmarked door, or turn left at a right-only sign. Step upon a ski lift. Let go of a zipline once you pass a certain tree on a certain trail at a certain hour. But in these worlds, the routes between doors often traverse the bewildering webs of highways between vibrant urban nodes. These universes are best avoided by travelers seeking to go swiftly and safely, for they are too prone to the whims of others — other drivers that may be too cautious or reckless, too demanding to follow safety rules and too morbidly curious when another meets their doom. Traffic jams, from congestion or from gawking at accidents.</p> <p>Many of the NeoAmerican megacities are abandoned now, and more are fast becoming husks. There will always be American patriots dreaming of imagined glory days, but ever since the Neon God was discovered these cities have grown more uncanny, more unnerving. Refugees, fleeing the endless growth of the Neon God, stop in the cities but rarely stay long — to them, these worlds are uncannily similar to the cancer they flee.</p> <p>When the Neon God comes to these worlds, it does so silently, unnoticed until it can no longer be ignored. It is all too easy to ignore its growth, for in a world of City, what is one more skyscraper under construction that gets completed, without warning, all too quickly? What is one more road being blocked off for urban development, one more sunny park falling into perpetual shadow, one more dark alley adorned with endless glistering light?</p> <p>Are the words upon the new billboard gibberish, or are they a dialect of multiversal Tengrii carried by refugees from the Steppes? Is that illogical intersection a tendril of the Neon God, or is it merely the result of contradictory zoning laws? Was that street a one-way road yesterday, or is this an infrastructural reform that was relegated to a byline on the thirtieth page of a newspaper?</p> <p>You cannot tell, and so the once great NeoAmerican cities lie empty. How can you feel safe, in your cities full of beauty and wonder and diversity and life, when forces beyond your control might warp it into something unrecognizable overnight?</p> <p>And so the NeoAmerican highways fester. The purpose of a highway is to transport, and yet it is <em>bad</em> at that singular task; congestion, a disease of plenty, is inevitable. The mass transport solution does not <em>grow</em> ill: it was designed from the beginning to be a clogged artery.</p> <p>The highway yearns to transport, and yet it rests, plastic bags and other litter dancing across the asphalt wastes like tumbleweeds of yore. The blacktop corridors, once packed end-to-end by metal carriages stretching into the horizon, are empty, tasting no more of gasoline fumes and rubber tire.</p> <p>It is imprecise and flawed to claim that an inanimate construction <em>wants</em> something; highway systems, whenever they arise, perpetuate themselves, but these are the actions of agents with their own goals and wants and desires, not silent paths of black asphalt. Yet there is no other explanation for what occurs in these forgotten, abandoned Lampeter worlds.</p> <p>The highways call for rubber upon their backs, smog within their lungs, cacophony echoing in their ears. They yearn to be abused once more and to abuse in turn. They long to fulfill the only purpose they know, the only reason they ever had to exist. And if they were merely abandoned, these cries would be hollow, echoing into a million empty nights.</p> <p>But they were once roads within Lampeter.</p> <p>Without watchful eyes upon these rotting worlds, doors fray. They lead astray. The highways reach out across the multiverse, calling for drivers, promising faster routes to endless destinations, time saved, destiny in the driver's hands, the open road, freedom, to go wherever you want on your own time, your own schedule. Let us fulfill our purposes once more, say the highways.</p> <p>And Lampeter answers their prayers.</p> <p>You may find yourself on any road and any highway, in any world across the multiverse, listening to your GlobalMap or following your SmartNav, when you take an exit you do not recognize — and then you shall find yourself in the heaven of the highways. Where their supplications have been satisfied. Where they are veins of blood packed full of virus, and both boundless sky and earth-piercing chasm are filled with their putrid exhalation, and the honking of horns is the screams of the damned.</p> <p><a href="/scp-7034">And once you enter, you might never leave.</a></p> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="6887434169_e2e09a2d38_b.jpg" class="image" src="https://live.staticflickr.com/7188/6887434169_e2e09a2d38_b.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Interstate Highway I-85</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="/the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica">Lampeter Registrar Entry: The Smog-Wastes of NeoAmerica</a>" by LORDXVNV, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica">https://scpwiki.com/the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica</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> File:Manhattan (NYC-New York City) Skyline (31769153946).jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> File:Manhattan (NYC-New York City) Skyline (31769153946).jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/people/80038275@N00">Michael Vadon</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Manhattan_(NYC-New_York_City)_Skyline_(31769153946).jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> File:Los Angeles Freeway.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> File:Los Angeles Freeway.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> ChinoLemus<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Los_Angeles_Freeway.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Crews Adjust Median To Allow for Future Traffic Shifts<br/> <strong>Filename:</strong><br/> <strong>Authors:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/39320593@N03">NCDOTcommunications</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/39320593@N03/6887434169">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:paperstack">:scp-wiki:theme:paperstack</a>]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[div class="header-container"]] [[div class="text-item"]] + Lampeter Registrar ++ The SmogWastes of NeoAmerica [[/div]] @@ @@ [[/div]] [[=image https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/97/Manhattan_%28NYC-New_York_City%29_Skyline_%2831769153946%29.jpg/1024px-Manhattan_%28NYC-New_York_City%29_Skyline_%2831769153946%29.jpg]] The megacities of NeoAmerica lie among the furthest reaches of [[[SCP-7005\|the Lampeter network]]], like a ring of distant mountains shrouded in smog. Every one of these cities is unique and magical, replete with nooks and crannies, stuffed with secrets stolen from other cities, other worlds. No multiversal sojourner has truly seen a city until they have seen a NeoAmerican megacity. In Universe Eastboard-12A, the American Eastern Seaboard Megacity stretches from former Boston to Atlanta, and the cobbled streets of old Boston, the silver spires of old New York, and the art deco towers of old Atlanta are cast in permanent neon twilight by the sky-spanning tracks of the Maglev of '89. In Universe ChicagIllinoi-89B, the American NorthMidWestern Megacity spans from former New York to Chicago to Washington D.C., connected by millions of crisscrossing subway charnel tunnels, through which the Chicago Revenants, the Sons of Liberty, and the Old Yorkers politic their eternal war. All are ultimately similar, marching arrays of urban spires. Each is unique in its own way, yet jumping from City to City one could be forgiven for thinking one had barely journeyed at all. The least navigable universes are those without mass transportation, not even the ubiquitous subway train or zeppelin ferry. These universes //require// automobiles to traverse; the sole conduits between sparse islands of civilization are highways, which coil upon themselves, labyrinthine knots of transport that enmesh the beating hearts of human civilization, like eggs in nests woven of thorns. These megacities sprout from poisoned seed: cities already crumbling upon their own weight, whether they be Los Angeles or American Peking. Smoggy, unwalkable, concrete. The Lampeter network is unreliable in these worlds. Usually, it can be traversed under one's own power -- enter an unmarked door, or turn left at a right-only sign. Step upon a ski lift. Let go of a zipline once you pass a certain tree on a certain trail at a certain hour. But in these worlds, the routes between doors often traverse the bewildering webs of highways between vibrant urban nodes. These universes are best avoided by travelers seeking to go swiftly and safely, for they are too prone to the whims of others -- other drivers that may be too cautious or reckless, too demanding to follow safety rules and too morbidly curious when another meets their doom. Traffic jams, from congestion or from gawking at accidents. [[=image https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3a/Los_Angeles_Freeway.jpg/640px-Los_Angeles_Freeway.jpg]] Many of the NeoAmerican megacities are abandoned now, and more are fast becoming husks. There will always be American patriots dreaming of imagined glory days, but ever since the Neon God was discovered these cities have grown more uncanny, more unnerving. Refugees, fleeing the endless growth of the Neon God, stop in the cities but rarely stay long -- to them, these worlds are uncannily similar to the cancer they flee. When the Neon God comes to these worlds, it does so silently, unnoticed until it can no longer be ignored. It is all too easy to ignore its growth, for in a world of City, what is one more skyscraper under construction that gets completed, without warning, all too quickly? What is one more road being blocked off for urban development, one more sunny park falling into perpetual shadow, one more dark alley adorned with endless glistering light? Are the words upon the new billboard gibberish, or are they a dialect of multiversal Tengrii carried by refugees from the Steppes? Is that illogical intersection a tendril of the Neon God, or is it merely the result of contradictory zoning laws? Was that street a one-way road yesterday, or is this an infrastructural reform that was relegated to a byline on the thirtieth page of a newspaper? You cannot tell, and so the once great NeoAmerican cities lie empty. How can you feel safe, in your cities full of beauty and wonder and diversity and life, when forces beyond your control might warp it into something unrecognizable overnight? And so the NeoAmerican highways fester. The purpose of a highway is to transport, and yet it is //bad// at that singular task; congestion, a disease of plenty, is inevitable. The mass transport solution does not //grow// ill: it was designed from the beginning to be a clogged artery. The highway yearns to transport, and yet it rests, plastic bags and other litter dancing across the asphalt wastes like tumbleweeds of yore. The blacktop corridors, once packed end-to-end by metal carriages stretching into the horizon, are empty, tasting no more of gasoline fumes and rubber tire. It is imprecise and flawed to claim that an inanimate construction //wants// something; highway systems, whenever they arise, perpetuate themselves, but these are the actions of agents with their own goals and wants and desires, not silent paths of black asphalt. Yet there is no other explanation for what occurs in these forgotten, abandoned Lampeter worlds. The highways call for rubber upon their backs, smog within their lungs, cacophony echoing in their ears. They yearn to be abused once more and to abuse in turn. They long to fulfill the only purpose they know, the only reason they ever had to exist. And if they were merely abandoned, these cries would be hollow, echoing into a million empty nights. But they were once roads within Lampeter. Without watchful eyes upon these rotting worlds, doors fray. They lead astray. The highways reach out across the multiverse, calling for drivers, promising faster routes to endless destinations, time saved, destiny in the driver's hands, the open road, freedom, to go wherever you want on your own time, your own schedule. Let us fulfill our purposes once more, say the highways. And Lampeter answers their prayers. You may find yourself on any road and any highway, in any world across the multiverse, listening to your GlobalMap or following your SmartNav, when you take an exit you do not recognize -- and then you shall find yourself in the heaven of the highways. Where their supplications have been satisfied. Where they are veins of blood packed full of virus, and both boundless sky and earth-piercing chasm are filled with their putrid exhalation, and the honking of horns is the screams of the damned. [[[SCP-7034\|And once you enter, you might never leave.]]] [[=image https://live.staticflickr.com/7188/6887434169_e2e09a2d38_b.jpg]] [[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://live.staticflickr.com/7188/6887434169_e2e09a2d38_b.jpg\|align=center\|width=100%\|caption=Interstate Highway I-85]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: File:Manhattan (NYC-New York City) Skyline (31769153946).jpg > Name: File:Manhattan (NYC-New York City) Skyline (31769153946).jpg > Author: [https://www.flickr.com/people/80038275@N00 Michael Vadon] > License: CC BY SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Manhattan_(NYC-New_York_City)_Skyline_(31769153946).jpg Wikimedia Commons] ----- > Filename: File:Los Angeles Freeway.jpg > Name: File:Los Angeles Freeway.jpg > Author: ChinoLemus > License: CC BY SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Los_Angeles_Freeway.jpg Wikimedia Commons] ----- ===== > Name: Crews Adjust Median To Allow for Future Traffic Shifts > Filename: > Authors: [[[https://www.flickr.com/photos/39320593@N03\|NCDOTcommunications]]] > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: [[[https://www.flickr.com/photos/39320593@N03/6887434169\|Flickr]]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-31T06:02:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "adventure", "art-exchange", "bleak", "cosmic-horror", "dystopian", "horror", "lampeter", "otherworldly", "science-fiction", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	Lampeter Registrar Entry: The Smog-Wastes of NeoAmerica - SCP Foundation	57	[ "scp-7005", "scp-7034", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition", "qui-lactis", "lampeter-hub", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[ "https://live.staticflickr.com/7188/6887434169_e2e09a2d38_b.jpg" ]	1445812262	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-smog-wastes-of-neoamerica
the-taste-of-home-sweet-home	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> <br/> Have you heard of Omoide Yokocho? It’s a little alleyway located in Shinjuku, Tokyo. It’s chock full of bars and yakitori stands, and it has operated as the perfect tourist spot for many years. People flock to it, thinking the place’s narrow streets and discordant style makes it some sort of cyberpunk-esque refuge. In truth, the only dystopian thing about the place are the prices of the food. The whole cyberpunk deal is derisory: The place has remained mostly unchanged since the 50s, a portal into the distant past, rather than the future. Guess that’s why it’s called the ‘Alley of memories’. Not like the 50s were the best memories to keep in place, but to each their own… <p>Amidst the noise of drunk people and the sizzling of the chicken, a man walked past it all, as determined as he was lost. He didn’t look any different from the many patrons and drunkards that roamed the streets, and yet something about him made him look special, a Moses parting a mob sea, shoving people to the sides until he saw what he had come for in front of him.</p> <p>It was a dingy-looking restaurant, Hinata had to admit, not the kind of place he would ever visit, but he knew he had to be here. He didn’t know <em>why</em>: He just knew.</p> <p>With the cold winter wind pushing behind him, he was left with no choice but to enter the place.</p> <p>He stepped in, and as he did, he was greeted by two sights: One, a distinct lack of anything palpable within, darkness enveloping the whole place, safe for a single table, and a single chair. The second was the waiter standing next to him, ready to greet him.</p> <p>“<a href="http://scp-jp.wikidot.com/brothers-restaurant-hub">Welcome</a>, good sir, to the Brother’s <span class="ruby">Restaurant<span class="rt">Foodstuffs</span></span>. Please, take a seat.”</p> <p>The waiter seemed familiar, although he couldn’t figure out why. Had he seen him before?</p> <p>“Hm? Something wrong?” The waiter asked. Hinata shook his head, driving the strange thoughts away before stepping into the shadows, towards the only table. He was surprisingly calm, despite the weirdness of the place. Maybe it was the smell, or the fireplace over there. It was the same kind of fireplace of his old home. He remembered it well, as there aren’t many in Japan, unless you like in Hokkaido or somewhere like that. Odd thing: What would be the point of it, in the middle of the Tokyo metropolis?</p> <p>Hinata didn’t give it any more attention, and sat down, turning to- Huh? The Waiter had disappeared, slipped into the shadows. Maybe to get the menu? Or for the kitchen? But… Where was the kitchen, even? He could only see potted plants near the windows, those cheesy sweaters on each of them, something his mother used to buy for the little things. The wind chime played a tune, the chilly winter wind allowing for the melody of the answering machine to mix with the metallic, actually-nice-to-listen-to sounds of the trinket.</p> <p>He looked down, and saw that ugly carpet she loved so much. Ugh, she would kill him for stepping on it with his dirty, ugly shoes. She was more of a sandal woman, of course. Everyone at her age is.</p> <p>The house’s doorbell rang, making Hinata turn towards the entrance. Who could it be at this time of day? Don’t they know it’s Christmas?</p> <p>Wait. Yeah, it’s… It’s Christmas.</p> <p>But wasn’t he at a restaurant?</p> <p>“Here you go, sir.” And just as Hinata felt like he had struck gold, or perhaps something else entirely, the waiter returned, placing a plate of food and a glass of some sort of drink on the table. He turned to it, and he was back in the shadows.</p> <p>The patron looked at the serving incredulously. “I haven’t ordered anything.”</p> <p>“This is not a place of orders, good sir.” The waiter explained, before removing the cloche, presenting Hinata a simple congee-style dish. “This is a place of experiences.”</p> <p>Before Hinata could muster another word, the waiter disappeared. He looked at the food in front of him, unsure. He was hungry, but was he hungry enough to consume something he hadn’t ordered?</p> <p>The answer was yes, because he knew what was in front of him: Nanakusa-gayu. A congee-like porridge with 7 herbs added, eaten on the 7th of January because of something luck-related that had to do with religion. Hinata couldn’t say he remembered it much, but he did remember his mother served it to him every 7th, because it was good luck. And who wouldn’t want to start the New Year with a bit of extra luck?</p> <p>“When was the last time I ate this?” Hinata wondered before taking a spoonful. The soft porridge slowly dripped out the utensil, a futile attempt to escape its fate, like a misbehaving kid, picking up and hiding the pieces of a china plate he broke, attempting to escape his parent’s wrath, unsuccessfully.</p> <p>The taste was immaculate, fleshy yet crispy, warm, but not enough, flavors melting inside his mouth, the tends-to-be insipid rice being strengthened by the parsley and the turnip. It wasn’t a particularly amazing dish, but it worked as the perfect entrée. It helped Hinata remember those times, in that Frankestein month composed of late-December and early-January where the family gathered together. There were no business trips, no sudden plans, no nothing. Just calm and peace, eating fusion cuisine in front of the fireplace. In front of the people closest to him.</p> <p>Once done, he moved onto the drink, almost having forgotten it was there in the first place. He took a quick whiff, and oh, it was eggnog. Of course it was. It was the perfect season for it, no? And it wasn’t any normal eggnog, not that it wasn’t really a common drink here: It was his father’s recipe. He could recognize this cold garbage anywhere. Cognac, a tinge of brandy, and a hint of vanilla extract. It wasn’t anything out of this world, but it was definitely more nog than egg. The pungent aroma was strong, but the taste was far stronger.</p> <p>On a normal occasion like this, Hinata wouldn’t have chosen to drink. He wasn’t a fan of alcohol, really. Before he could even realize what he was doing, however, the drink had been downed. God, that was foul. His throat burned. Rice porridge and eggnog don’t go well together. Yet perhaps, that’s what made the combination work so well. He remembered when his father would put a tinge of booze here and there, like in Hinata’s drink, or the fruit punch at his brother’s high school, or inside that small flask he carried everywhere, his little fetish toy that would make him ‘luckier’, and, well, when he T-boned that van, drunk out his mind… Dad didn’t seem as lucky then.</p> <p>“How have you been enjoying the dishes?” The waiter asked, again resurfacing from the shadows.</p> <p>“They’re… They’ve been good.” Hinata responded, not even realizing the plurality of the question. As he would soon realize, the congee had been taken away, replaced by another cloched dish. “And this?”</p> <p>“Your next experience, of course.” The waiter explained. With the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving only the uncloched piece: A small gingerbread house.</p> <p>The gingerbread house was really simple, the kind you’d buy at the store for a quick buck and build on the kitchen counter, trying your best to use the small packets of icing to keep the thing welded together, but it’s never enough, and the house comes tumbling down, and you try again, and it falls again, and now the pieces are broken you give up and eat the crumbs as is. The kind of food that is bought not for the taste, or to even enjoy a good meal, but because…</p> <p>Because of the experience.</p> <p>As his brain began wrapping around the idea of this place, Hinata tried the gingerbread house, not thinking too hard about what he was experiencing, nor about the changing environment, the familiar smell, the sweet residues tickling the interior of his mouth. The ‘main dish’ was certainly not as inspired as the previous parts, but there was a bittersweet taste that kept making him go for an extra bite, a bigger and bigger piece of the house that he would put on his mouth and chew, destroying the veranda and the entrance, breaking apart the screen on each window, swallowing furniture whole, past the entrance, through the main room, into the dinner room, cracking bedrooms and bathrooms open, leaving no trace of what was once a fairly well constructed building.</p> <p>With each bite, he remembered: His sister’s birthday, his mother’s mother’s anniversary, the day he graduated high school, and they had ice cream cake and it was delicious, of the time his father got into a fight with their neighbors over their dog trashing their patio, of the day his brother’s left the house, and there was one empty room in the house, and they would soon use the space to store boxes, but the bed? No, the bed remained untouched, because there would always be a place to return to. His mother would always say that, and it made him as happy as it ticked him off, that stupid mantra of hers.</p> <p>He never returned. And why would he, after dad crashed the car? After he killed that family? After the family that he didn’t kill fell apart? Soon dad was no more, and mom began losing the few marbles she still had and each sibling drifted away from each other, like the walls of this now ravaged candy house, its gumdrops and canes splattered like bodies in a crime scene, waiting for the deputy to put down the markers, the drunk driver escorted to the back of the vehicle.</p> <p>Hinata stopped, and looked down at the plate. Only crumbs and icing remained, spread all around what remained of the ware. The plate was chipped, claw marks having broken it into pieces. It looked like a wild beast had been eating from it. A human being couldn’t have done this. Something had taken over him, consuming the broken memories and mixing them together, making them whole inside of him. Things were starting to make sense. There was purpose in the madness.</p> <p>“How have you been enjoying the dishes?” And after what Hinata believed was another moment of lucidity, the waiter returned, another cloche in hand.</p> <p>“It… It was filling.” And it really was. He felt full of… Full of feelings, sensations, both familiar and not his own. They were someone else’s. Several people’s. A family’s worth.</p> <p>“And how was the dining experience?”</p> <p>“Unlike any other.” Hinata replied matter-of-factly. It felt hypnotizing, as if someone else had replied to the waiter, not him. This wasn’t him. Something else resided inside his head now; he could feel it. There was a hand inside his head, pushing outwards. Would it get out? He couldn’t know.</p> <p>“That is good to know. Here, at this prestigious restaurant, we pride ourselves in always giving our customers an experience they will not forget; an experience so immaculate, with taste unlike any other, that dining will forever change for them.”</p> <p>And it had indeed. Something had changed. A door had been opened, and now Hinata could see it, the reason why he had decided to come here, on Christmas day. Why he felt the need to escape, and not look back. A memory had resurfaced, and with it, the last puzzle piece fell into place. He knew what to do next with… With the omiyage he was about to receive now.</p> <p>“Ah, right, here’s the last dish.” The waiter replied, knowing what Hinata was thinking, and lifted the cloche, revealing a small gift, the size of an advent calendar. “The souvenir you are looking for.”</p> <p>“Thanks.” Hinata replied, accepting the gift with a bow. The waiter bowed in response, before letting Hinata go.</p> <p>“Enjoy the rest of your life, good sir.” And with that, Hinata turned around, and was met with the alley of memories: The smell of fiberglass and broken verandas and leaking motor oil was replaced with the smell of cheap chicken and even cheaper alcohol.</p> <p>Hinata turned around once more, and was met with an empty lot. The restaurant had fulfilled its role, and so it was no more. Hinata would question it, but he could feel the effect in real-time, the memories of the restaurant disappearing bit by bit. There had never been a waiter, or an establishment, or a seat, or a table, or porridge, or eggnog, or a gingerbread house. Soon, there was nothing but a packaged omiyage in his hands.</p> <p>Hinata looked down at it, a familiar feeling coming to him as he intently stared at it. Something was coming to his mind.</p> <p>Hinata stared at the neat Christmas-themed packaging for half a minute before smiling.</p> <p>“Wonder if mom’ll like it.”</p> <p>Hinata began moving again, pulling out his phone, quickly buying a plane ticket to his hometown. To where his mother still lived, in that rickety old house he once called home. To the place he might call home once again, if only for a day.<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="/the-taste-of-home-sweet-home">The Taste of Home Sweet Home</a>" by Maxyfran73, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-taste-of-home-sweet-home">https://scpwiki.com/the-taste-of-home-sweet-home</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="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] @@@@ Have you heard of Omoide Yokocho? It’s a little alleyway located in Shinjuku, Tokyo. It’s chock full of bars and yakitori stands, and it has operated as the perfect tourist spot for many years. People flock to it, thinking the place’s narrow streets and discordant style makes it some sort of cyberpunk-esque refuge. In truth, the only dystopian thing about the place are the prices of the food. The whole cyberpunk deal is derisory: The place has remained mostly unchanged since the 50s, a portal into the distant past, rather than the future. Guess that’s why it’s called the ‘Alley of memories’. Not like the 50s were the best memories to keep in place, but to each their own… Amidst the noise of drunk people and the sizzling of the chicken, a man walked past it all, as determined as he was lost. He didn’t look any different from the many patrons and drunkards that roamed the streets, and yet something about him made him look special, a Moses parting a mob sea, shoving people to the sides until he saw what he had come for in front of him. It was a dingy-looking restaurant, Hinata had to admit, not the kind of place he would ever visit, but he knew he had to be here. He didn’t know //why//: He just knew. With the cold winter wind pushing behind him, he was left with no choice but to enter the place. He stepped in, and as he did, he was greeted by two sights: One, a distinct lack of anything palpable within, darkness enveloping the whole place, safe for a single table, and a single chair. The second was the waiter standing next to him, ready to greet him. “[http://scp-jp.wikidot.com/brothers-restaurant-hub Welcome], good sir, to the Brother’s [[span class="ruby"]]Restaurant[[span class="rt"]]Foodstuffs[[/span]][[/span]]. Please, take a seat.” The waiter seemed familiar, although he couldn’t figure out why. Had he seen him before? “Hm? Something wrong?” The waiter asked. Hinata shook his head, driving the strange thoughts away before stepping into the shadows, towards the only table. He was surprisingly calm, despite the weirdness of the place. Maybe it was the smell, or the fireplace over there. It was the same kind of fireplace of his old home. He remembered it well, as there aren’t many in Japan, unless you like in Hokkaido or somewhere like that. Odd thing: What would be the point of it, in the middle of the Tokyo metropolis? Hinata didn’t give it any more attention, and sat down, turning to- Huh? The Waiter had disappeared, slipped into the shadows. Maybe to get the menu? Or for the kitchen? But… Where was the kitchen, even? He could only see potted plants near the windows, those cheesy sweaters on each of them, something his mother used to buy for the little things. The wind chime played a tune, the chilly winter wind allowing for the melody of the answering machine to mix with the metallic, actually-nice-to-listen-to sounds of the trinket. He looked down, and saw that ugly carpet she loved so much. Ugh, she would kill him for stepping on it with his dirty, ugly shoes. She was more of a sandal woman, of course. Everyone at her age is. The house’s doorbell rang, making Hinata turn towards the entrance. Who could it be at this time of day? Don’t they know it’s Christmas? Wait. Yeah, it’s… It’s Christmas. But wasn’t he at a restaurant? “Here you go, sir.” And just as Hinata felt like he had struck gold, or perhaps something else entirely, the waiter returned, placing a plate of food and a glass of some sort of drink on the table. He turned to it, and he was back in the shadows. The patron looked at the serving incredulously. “I haven’t ordered anything.” “This is not a place of orders, good sir.” The waiter explained, before removing the cloche, presenting Hinata a simple congee-style dish. “This is a place of experiences.” Before Hinata could muster another word, the waiter disappeared. He looked at the food in front of him, unsure. He was hungry, but was he hungry enough to consume something he hadn’t ordered? The answer was yes, because he knew what was in front of him: Nanakusa-gayu. A congee-like porridge with 7 herbs added, eaten on the 7th of January because of something luck-related that had to do with religion. Hinata couldn’t say he remembered it much, but he did remember his mother served it to him every 7th, because it was good luck. And who wouldn’t want to start the New Year with a bit of extra luck? “When was the last time I ate this?” Hinata wondered before taking a spoonful. The soft porridge slowly dripped out the utensil, a futile attempt to escape its fate, like a misbehaving kid, picking up and hiding the pieces of a china plate he broke, attempting to escape his parent’s wrath, unsuccessfully. The taste was immaculate, fleshy yet crispy, warm, but not enough, flavors melting inside his mouth, the tends-to-be insipid rice being strengthened by the parsley and the turnip. It wasn’t a particularly amazing dish, but it worked as the perfect entrée. It helped Hinata remember those times, in that Frankestein month composed of late-December and early-January where the family gathered together. There were no business trips, no sudden plans, no nothing. Just calm and peace, eating fusion cuisine in front of the fireplace. In front of the people closest to him. Once done, he moved onto the drink, almost having forgotten it was there in the first place. He took a quick whiff, and oh, it was eggnog. Of course it was. It was the perfect season for it, no? And it wasn’t any normal eggnog, not that it wasn’t really a common drink here: It was his father’s recipe. He could recognize this cold garbage anywhere. Cognac, a tinge of brandy, and a hint of vanilla extract. It wasn’t anything out of this world, but it was definitely more nog than egg. The pungent aroma was strong, but the taste was far stronger. On a normal occasion like this, Hinata wouldn’t have chosen to drink. He wasn’t a fan of alcohol, really. Before he could even realize what he was doing, however, the drink had been downed. God, that was foul. His throat burned. Rice porridge and eggnog don’t go well together. Yet perhaps, that’s what made the combination work so well. He remembered when his father would put a tinge of booze here and there, like in Hinata’s drink, or the fruit punch at his brother’s high school, or inside that small flask he carried everywhere, his little fetish toy that would make him ‘luckier’, and, well, when he T-boned that van, drunk out his mind… Dad didn’t seem as lucky then. “How have you been enjoying the dishes?” The waiter asked, again resurfacing from the shadows. “They’re… They’ve been good.” Hinata responded, not even realizing the plurality of the question. As he would soon realize, the congee had been taken away, replaced by another cloched dish. “And this?” “Your next experience, of course.” The waiter explained. With the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving only the uncloched piece: A small gingerbread house. The gingerbread house was really simple, the kind you’d buy at the store for a quick buck and build on the kitchen counter, trying your best to use the small packets of icing to keep the thing welded together, but it’s never enough, and the house comes tumbling down, and you try again, and it falls again, and now the pieces are broken you give up and eat the crumbs as is. The kind of food that is bought not for the taste, or to even enjoy a good meal, but because… Because of the experience. As his brain began wrapping around the idea of this place, Hinata tried the gingerbread house, not thinking too hard about what he was experiencing, nor about the changing environment, the familiar smell, the sweet residues tickling the interior of his mouth. The ‘main dish’ was certainly not as inspired as the previous parts, but there was a bittersweet taste that kept making him go for an extra bite, a bigger and bigger piece of the house that he would put on his mouth and chew, destroying the veranda and the entrance, breaking apart the screen on each window, swallowing furniture whole, past the entrance, through the main room, into the dinner room, cracking bedrooms and bathrooms open, leaving no trace of what was once a fairly well constructed building. With each bite, he remembered: His sister’s birthday, his mother’s mother’s anniversary, the day he graduated high school, and they had ice cream cake and it was delicious, of the time his father got into a fight with their neighbors over their dog trashing their patio, of the day his brother’s left the house, and there was one empty room in the house, and they would soon use the space to store boxes, but the bed? No, the bed remained untouched, because there would always be a place to return to. His mother would always say that, and it made him as happy as it ticked him off, that stupid mantra of hers. He never returned. And why would he, after dad crashed the car? After he killed that family? After the family that he didn’t kill fell apart? Soon dad was no more, and mom began losing the few marbles she still had and each sibling drifted away from each other, like the walls of this now ravaged candy house, its gumdrops and canes splattered like bodies in a crime scene, waiting for the deputy to put down the markers, the drunk driver escorted to the back of the vehicle. Hinata stopped, and looked down at the plate. Only crumbs and icing remained, spread all around what remained of the ware. The plate was chipped, claw marks having broken it into pieces. It looked like a wild beast had been eating from it. A human being couldn’t have done this. Something had taken over him, consuming the broken memories and mixing them together, making them whole inside of him. Things were starting to make sense. There was purpose in the madness. “How have you been enjoying the dishes?” And after what Hinata believed was another moment of lucidity, the waiter returned, another cloche in hand. “It… It was filling.” And it really was. He felt full of… Full of feelings, sensations, both familiar and not his own. They were someone else’s. Several people’s. A family’s worth. “And how was the dining experience?” “Unlike any other.” Hinata replied matter-of-factly. It felt hypnotizing, as if someone else had replied to the waiter, not him. This wasn’t him. Something else resided inside his head now; he could feel it. There was a hand inside his head, pushing outwards. Would it get out? He couldn’t know. “That is good to know. Here, at this prestigious restaurant, we pride ourselves in always giving our customers an experience they will not forget; an experience so immaculate, with taste unlike any other, that dining will forever change for them.” And it had indeed. Something had changed. A door had been opened, and now Hinata could see it, the reason why he had decided to come here, on Christmas day. Why he felt the need to escape, and not look back. A memory had resurfaced, and with it, the last puzzle piece fell into place. He knew what to do next with… With the omiyage he was about to receive now. “Ah, right, here’s the last dish.” The waiter replied, knowing what Hinata was thinking, and lifted the cloche, revealing a small gift, the size of an advent calendar. “The souvenir you are looking for.” “Thanks.” Hinata replied, accepting the gift with a bow. The waiter bowed in response, before letting Hinata go. “Enjoy the rest of your life, good sir.” And with that, Hinata turned around, and was met with the alley of memories: The smell of fiberglass and broken verandas and leaking motor oil was replaced with the smell of cheap chicken and even cheaper alcohol. Hinata turned around once more, and was met with an empty lot. The restaurant had fulfilled its role, and so it was no more. Hinata would question it, but he could feel the effect in real-time, the memories of the restaurant disappearing bit by bit. There had never been a waiter, or an establishment, or a seat, or a table, or porridge, or eggnog, or a gingerbread house. Soon, there was nothing but a packaged omiyage in his hands. Hinata looked down at it, a familiar feeling coming to him as he intently stared at it. Something was coming to his mind. Hinata stared at the neat Christmas-themed packaging for half a minute before smiling. “Wonder if mom’ll like it.” Hinata began moving again, pulling out his phone, quickly buying a plane ticket to his hometown. To where his mother still lived, in that rickety old house he once called home. To the place he might call home once again, if only for a day. @@ @@ [[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>]]	2023-01-29T14:37:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "tale" ]	The Taste of Home Sweet Home - SCP Foundation	10	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1445795864	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-taste-of-home-sweet-home
the-thing-about-mortality	<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> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><sub>By Marcelles Diablo Raynes</sub></p> </div> <p>I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping. No, it's not memetic, or even anomalous. It's something different, something worse than either of those.</p> <p>The problem is that I'm scared to break my stream of consciousness. Terrified, actually, and even that's putting it mildly. There's no way to find out where <em>"I"</em> go when I'm asleep, and sleep is just temporary. If we as a species can't even figure out what happens to our consciousness when we're sleeping, I'm too scared to find out what happens when we die. You don't wake up after the end.</p> <p>There's been too much loss in my life; friends, family, co-workers, and loved ones. I'm sure you've had a similar experience, or maybe a few similar experiences. I really hope you haven't.</p> <p>I think about where they are right now every day, and if there is even a <em>"them"</em> to be somewhere in the first place. Every time I close my eyes at night I keep thinking about that place beyond this one.</p> <p>I <em>want</em> there to be an afterlife. Heaven, Hell, Limbo, Nirvana, Valhalla, any of them. Or if there's really nothing waiting for us, then I want to know that's what's coming. More than anything in the world, I just want some damn confirmation.</p> <p>I guess this all really started when my great-grandfather died. I was five, maybe six years old at the time, and I remember visiting him in the hospital every weekend just to check on him. We played cards, he showed me a few magic tricks, did all the things a great-grandpa is supposed to do for their grandkids.</p> <p>Then one day we stopped going, and my mom told me that he had passed in his sleep. I was sad, as anyone would be. I understood that I couldn't see him anymore and I knew that I missed him, but he was old. Old people don't have that much time left, and that made sense to me at least.</p> <p>My friend, Shannon, comforted me at school after his passing. She was a real help with processing the grief I didn't know I was feeling at the time. Hanging out with her made me feel better, and that's all that mattered.</p> <p>After I had finally started to move on from my great-grandfather's passing (is move on even the right term for that?), Shannon and I started talking more frequently. We sat next to each other in gym class, making fun of the try-hards and doing our best to avoid getting yelled at by the gym teacher. She started sitting next to me in class, passing funny notes to me whenever our teacher wasn't looking. I even went over to her house a few times and got to meet her family, who treated me like I was one of their own kids.</p> <p>All in all, it was a pretty sweet friendship. Probably the first one I ever had.</p> <p>When I heard that Shannon died, I was heartbroken. School ended one day just like it had for years at that point. There wasn't anything special about it. We said our "good-bye's" and our "see ya laters", and that was it. I went home, complained about my homework, played video games, and went to bed. Like clockwork. I was expecting to see Shannon the next day.</p> <p>But her heart gave out in the driveway practicing soccer with her dad. She died on the spot, and I never saw her again.</p> <p>Ever since that day, I realized the same thing would happen to me. It didn't bother me for a while, but then I started worrying about her. Where did Shannon go when she died on the pavement? Did she go to heaven like my pastor said? Was she somewhere else? Was there even a <em>"her"</em> to be anywhere else anymore? It's… horrifying. Kids aren't supposed to die, man. Especially not like that.</p> <p>I just want to stop thinking about it but I can't! I want to go back to a time when I wasn't aware of this bullshit. I want my friend back. And I don't want to die.</p> <p>I hate the thought that she's gone forever. I don't want to accept that but… that's the reality I'm stuck in, the one where I have to live without her. The one where I got a chance to grow up, and have kids, and go to prom, and college, and she didn't get any of that.</p> <p>I miss my friend.</p> <p>-Partial transcript of Dr. Rayne's 12<sup>th</sup> Therapy Session at Site-83</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-thing-about-mortality">The Thing About Mortality</a>" by Marcelles_Raynes, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-thing-about-mortality">https://scpwiki.com/the-thing-about-mortality</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 Rate]] ,,By Marcelles Diablo Raynes,, [[/>]] I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping. No, it's not memetic, or even anomalous. It's something different, something worse than either of those. The problem is that I'm scared to break my stream of consciousness. Terrified, actually, and even that's putting it mildly. There's no way to find out where //"I"// go when I'm asleep, and sleep is just temporary. If we as a species can't even figure out what happens to our consciousness when we're sleeping, I'm too scared to find out what happens when we die. You don't wake up after the end. There's been too much loss in my life; friends, family, co-workers, and loved ones. I'm sure you've had a similar experience, or maybe a few similar experiences. I really hope you haven't. I think about where they are right now every day, and if there is even a //"them"// to be somewhere in the first place. Every time I close my eyes at night I keep thinking about that place beyond this one. I //want// there to be an afterlife. Heaven, Hell, Limbo, Nirvana, Valhalla, any of them. Or if there's really nothing waiting for us, then I want to know that's what's coming. More than anything in the world, I just want some damn confirmation. I guess this all really started when my great-grandfather died. I was five, maybe six years old at the time, and I remember visiting him in the hospital every weekend just to check on him. We played cards, he showed me a few magic tricks, did all the things a great-grandpa is supposed to do for their grandkids. Then one day we stopped going, and my mom told me that he had passed in his sleep. I was sad, as anyone would be. I understood that I couldn't see him anymore and I knew that I missed him, but he was old. Old people don't have that much time left, and that made sense to me at least. My friend, Shannon, comforted me at school after his passing. She was a real help with processing the grief I didn't know I was feeling at the time. Hanging out with her made me feel better, and that's all that mattered. After I had finally started to move on from my great-grandfather's passing (is move on even the right term for that?), Shannon and I started talking more frequently. We sat next to each other in gym class, making fun of the try-hards and doing our best to avoid getting yelled at by the gym teacher. She started sitting next to me in class, passing funny notes to me whenever our teacher wasn't looking. I even went over to her house a few times and got to meet her family, who treated me like I was one of their own kids. All in all, it was a pretty sweet friendship. Probably the first one I ever had. When I heard that Shannon died, I was heartbroken. School ended one day just like it had for years at that point. There wasn't anything special about it. We said our "good-bye's" and our "see ya laters", and that was it. I went home, complained about my homework, played video games, and went to bed. Like clockwork. I was expecting to see Shannon the next day. But her heart gave out in the driveway practicing soccer with her dad. She died on the spot, and I never saw her again. Ever since that day, I realized the same thing would happen to me. It didn't bother me for a while, but then I started worrying about her. Where did Shannon go when she died on the pavement? Did she go to heaven like my pastor said? Was she somewhere else? Was there even a //"her"// to be anywhere else anymore? It's... horrifying. Kids aren't supposed to die, man. Especially not like that. I just want to stop thinking about it but I can't! I want to go back to a time when I wasn't aware of this bullshit. I want my friend back. And I don't want to die. I hate the thought that she's gone forever. I don't want to accept that but... that's the reality I'm stuck in, the one where I have to live without her. The one where I got a chance to grow up, and have kids, and go to prom, and college, and she didn't get any of that. I miss my friend. -Partial transcript of Dr. Rayne's 12^^th^^ Therapy Session at Site-83 [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Marcelles_Raynes]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-23T02:29:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "first-person", "tale" ]	The Thing About Mortality - SCP Foundation	26	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023" ]	[]	1445624193	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-thing-about-mortality
the-water-or-the-starlight	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> Suicide, Loneliness, Depression, Implied Religious Trauma/Homophobia</p> <hr/> <p>Did you know someone once died driving off the Pier bridge? Yeah. Freak accident, y’know. People consider it the town's sore spot. It’s not used a lot. I feel bad for her, the girl who died- y'know. Her family, her friends, her future. All dashed.</p> <p>I wonder how the stars looked under the water. Could she tell them apart from the sparks at the edge of her vision?</p> <p>Was she swallowed by the water or the starlight first?</p> <hr/> <p>Tick. Tick.</p> <p>Time starts again, clinging to my wrist like a watch with teeth. I am bitten and accepted into it. I am the werewolf of time.</p> <p>Sometimes it’s too hot to exist comfortably, and those are the days where I exist anyways, because why the fuck do I think I should be comfortable? I'm trapped in short story and polaroid collage form. I’m trapped in Ohio and years I don’t think I ever had the right to live.</p> <p>I don’t deserve the happiness I’m handing myself, but God help me if I ever feel sad.</p> <hr/> <p>“Sid?” Gail waves a hand in front of my eyes. I try to focus on the situation. We’re in the woods by Dev’s house, and there’s his minivan that can’t possibly be his since his Mom used to drive me to tap practise when I was seven, which also can’t be true because she had a stroke a year ago and time shouldn’t be allowed to work like that.</p> <p>The trees are thin green and threaded through with spiderwebbed light, and the ground is covered in dead leaves, like Fall never quite left the town even after it had slipped on its winter coat. I don’t think I ever really left Fall either. I don’t think I ever left my old twin size bed.</p> <hr/> <p>Tick. Tick.</p> <p>Why is this happening?</p> <hr/> <p>“Hey bud!” Dev’s smiling and has his hand up and I’m repeating “That’s Devyn Mallard” in my head because fuck he cut his hair short and that’s not allowed Dev has long hair long and brown and we have a joke about it and I’m losing it I’m losing my goddamn mind over a fucking haircut.</p> <p>“Hey Dev.” I grin. “Nice hair. It’s short!” Please tell me it’s not real. (Also I need to make your decisions for you because I am a control freak and the change is too much.)</p> <p>“Thanks!”</p> <p>God I’m a horrible friend.</p> <p>Gail and Dev and Madison and Brett(BrittneyBrittneyBrittney you transphobic pieceofshit) - and I became a friend group in Juniour year. Brit and Maddie and Gail were in Dev’s theatre class, and since I was Dev’s best friend and Gail’s writing workshop partner I was there too. Gail Maddie Dev and Brit are best friends since Gail and Dev are heading for the same college and Brit and Gail have some sort of Web Series too important for me and Maddie and Dev do music together so it all makes a lot of sense.</p> <p>I’m there too.</p> <p>But I’m peripheral fog (running out of excuses).</p> <p>I used to believe that this was a story. That my life was a book I was writing. But after too many pages and no real words down, I can't help but feel it would be better to end. I'm not a writer anymore. I haven't written anything in years that felt real. And all the teaching jobs and essays and talk of college won't change that I am trapped between the pages of my childhood home/short story form.</p> <p>When I'd rather be trapped in <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">my mothers arms</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">Gail's kiss</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">anything anything is better than this</span> ice water tears. That sounds poetic enough, right? Poetic enough so I can pretend I'm still a fucking writer and not a corpse with a pen.</p> <hr/> <p>Agnes’ kitchen was the best burgers in Anders until Agnes moved to Florida with her husband, and took her grey curls and crow footed kind eyes with her. So now Agnes’ is run by a guy named Michael or something who is supposed to be her nephew. She said I was like a daughter to her so I don’t see why it isn’t mine.</p> <p>The new teenage waitress is bored and doesn’t look at me while serving my burger. It tastes like coal. That’s when I find out that-<br/> I don’t come here for the burgers I come here so Agnes can help me with my homework and bring me a froth filled chocolate shake on the house while my Dad drives an hour to see how my Mom is doing in Chemo.</p> <p>The best nights were those in Sixth grade, when it was dark outside the windows and I knew everything would be okay, because Leukaemia isn’t that bad.<br/> Not until it comes back.</p> <p>Not until it’s sophomore year and nothing is your chest’s only word</p> <p>As</p> <p>She</p> <p>Dies</p> <p>.</p> <hr/> <p>A kid at the Elementary school I went to shadow at called me Mrs Elmers. (No no no) That’s what my friends called my mother but not me, never me. I’m just Sidney.</p> <p>Why don’t I have a name anymore?</p> <p>“Our last summer as kids?” Dev offered the line along with his amber filled glass to toast. I drank and tasted nothing but bitterness and my burnt taste buds from coffee that woke me up to the world too early. That was too much too soon. And I’m burned.</p> <p>“We should play hide and seek,” I suggested, smiling. They laughed. “Nah, we’re too big for that; Plus Maddie’s red hair is too easy to spot.” Dev nudged her. I took another drink as they squabbled. This isn’t their last summer as kids, it’s their first as adults.</p> <p>I’m the only one who never realised that.</p> <p>Fuck.</p> <hr/> <p>That’s Rebecca from school, waving at me.</p> <p>“Hey Sidney! How are you? Didn’t think you’d be around here.” She’s smiling. She used to trip me in the hall when I walked past. She’s smiling. She doesn’t remember. Why do I have to?</p> <p>I’m smiling.</p> <p>Why do I see her face-<br/> “Hey! Nice to see you too!”<br/> more clearly in my mind-<br/> “What’s going on?”<br/> Than I see my own Mother</p> <hr/> <p>I don’t feel my arms this morning I don’t feel like a person fuck is this normal am I going to die.</p> <p>Nothing’s wrong Sid it’s all in your head/Something’s wrong with you Sid you’re a bad person.</p> <p>Fuck I can’t breathe anymore.<br/> No one told me I would die by drowning.<br/> I sit until.<br/> It’s gone.</p> <hr/> <p>I just found some old letters at the bottom of a drawer. I think I left them for myself when I was younger because I thought one day I would be able to look back and think something nice about how far I’ve come but really I know that the girl in the letters is no happier or better than I was.<br/> She was just young enough to have an excuse for it.</p> <p>I know she (me? am I even the same person?) dreamed of changing the world. And sometimes I did, when my anger fell into my chest so hard it split my heart open to scream. But the more important it was - the more I wanted it - the more firm life's hand on my back became. I changed grades smudged onto my report cards, not teachers. I changed the weather once, I think, and took the stormcloud with me. It hangs over my head, reminding me I traded thunder for a blue sky, when I should've traded lightning for my Mom's life. When I should have traded my years for hers.</p> <hr/> <p>It’s warm, in the air and hot on the pavement and cool in the water where my toes dip and simmer, and it’s humid and uncomfortable inside my chest where I am holding myself upright on the ledge of the pool. Deja vu sits in my gut, dizzying. Why has this happened before? Why does it always get uncomfortable the closer I am to being free?</p> <p>Maddie is tanning and Brit is chatting up some blonde that’s laughing at her jokes and Dev and Gail are splashing each other in the pool and laughing. I’m on the edge and I’m sick to my stomach in a way that feels empty.</p> <p>I’m eating up the summer and eating up my time and eating up this postcard-ready day at the pool and I feel starved. Fuck, there’s Gail on the side of the pool with her short brown curls and shaved sides and a butterfly tattoo and olive skin and I’m trying not to stare at her.</p> <p>I think she likes Dev or something. I think I want to kiss her like cinnamon and hot fudge.</p> <p>I wish I had found this out six years ago when my Mom was alive and my Dad didn’t believe in God. Now he believes in a God that doesn’t want me. He thinks that He is the way back to my mother. He forgets that I am half her as well.</p> <hr/> <p>Did you know that someone died driving off of Pier bridge? Yeah. It was tragic. But it always was coming, I think.<br/> Coming around, and around. An endless cycle.<br/> The deja vu eats me when I dive.<br/> It doesn’t feel like falling because the car is too heavy to feel like real freefall.<br/> It was seven minutes after midnight last night. I took the long way around town first.</p> <p>I don’t remember-<br/> Anything I was now-<br/> But<br/> The<br/> Starlight<br/> That’s what swallowed me first.</p> <p>And I know this will repeat<br/> Until I am dead<br/> The cycle is endless,</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-water-or-the-starlight">the water or the starlight</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-water-or-the-starlight">https://scpwiki.com/the-water-or-the-starlight</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: Suicide, Loneliness, Depression, Implied Religious Trauma/Homophobia ------ Did you know someone once died driving off the Pier bridge? Yeah. Freak accident, y’know. People consider it the town's sore spot. It’s not used a lot. I feel bad for her, the girl who died- y'know. Her family, her friends, her future. All dashed. I wonder how the stars looked under the water. Could she tell them apart from the sparks at the edge of her vision? Was she swallowed by the water or the starlight first? ------ Tick. Tick. Time starts again, clinging to my wrist like a watch with teeth. I am bitten and accepted into it. I am the werewolf of time. Sometimes it’s too hot to exist comfortably, and those are the days where I exist anyways, because why the fuck do I think I should be comfortable? I'm trapped in short story and polaroid collage form. I’m trapped in Ohio and years I don’t think I ever had the right to live. I don’t deserve the happiness I’m handing myself, but God help me if I ever feel sad. ------ “Sid?” Gail waves a hand in front of my eyes. I try to focus on the situation. We’re in the woods by Dev’s house, and there’s his minivan that can’t possibly be his since his Mom used to drive me to tap practise when I was seven, which also can’t be true because she had a stroke a year ago and time shouldn’t be allowed to work like that. The trees are thin green and threaded through with spiderwebbed light, and the ground is covered in dead leaves, like Fall never quite left the town even after it had slipped on its winter coat. I don’t think I ever really left Fall either. I don’t think I ever left my old twin size bed. ------ Tick. Tick. Why is this happening? ------ “Hey bud!” Dev’s smiling and has his hand up and I’m repeating “That’s Devyn Mallard” in my head because fuck he cut his hair short and that’s not allowed Dev has long hair long and brown and we have a joke about it and I’m losing it I’m losing my goddamn mind over a fucking haircut. “Hey Dev.” I grin. “Nice hair. It’s short!” Please tell me it’s not real. (Also I need to make your decisions for you because I am a control freak and the change is too much.) “Thanks!” God I’m a horrible friend. Gail and Dev and Madison and Brett(BrittneyBrittneyBrittney you transphobic pieceofshit) - and I became a friend group in Juniour year. Brit and Maddie and Gail were in Dev’s theatre class, and since I was Dev’s best friend and Gail’s writing workshop partner I was there too. Gail Maddie Dev and Brit are best friends since Gail and Dev are heading for the same college and Brit and Gail have some sort of Web Series too important for me and Maddie and Dev do music together so it all makes a lot of sense. I’m there too. But I’m peripheral fog (running out of excuses). I used to believe that this was a story. That my life was a book I was writing. But after too many pages and no real words down, I can't help but feel it would be better to end. I'm not a writer anymore. I haven't written anything in years that felt real. And all the teaching jobs and essays and talk of college won't change that I am trapped between the pages of my childhood home/short story form. When I'd rather be trapped in --my mothers arms-- --Gail's kiss-- --anything anything is better than this-- ice water tears. That sounds poetic enough, right? Poetic enough so I can pretend I'm still a fucking writer and not a corpse with a pen. ------ Agnes’ kitchen was the best burgers in Anders until Agnes moved to Florida with her husband, and took her grey curls and crow footed kind eyes with her. So now Agnes’ is run by a guy named Michael or something who is supposed to be her nephew. She said I was like a daughter to her so I don’t see why it isn’t mine. The new teenage waitress is bored and doesn’t look at me while serving my burger. It tastes like coal. That’s when I find out that- I don’t come here for the burgers I come here so Agnes can help me with my homework and bring me a froth filled chocolate shake on the house while my Dad drives an hour to see how my Mom is doing in Chemo. The best nights were those in Sixth grade, when it was dark outside the windows and I knew everything would be okay, because Leukaemia isn’t that bad. Not until it comes back. Not until it’s sophomore year and nothing is your chest’s only word As She Dies . ------ A kid at the Elementary school I went to shadow at called me Mrs Elmers. (No no no) That’s what my friends called my mother but not me, never me. I’m just Sidney. Why don’t I have a name anymore? “Our last summer as kids?” Dev offered the line along with his amber filled glass to toast. I drank and tasted nothing but bitterness and my burnt taste buds from coffee that woke me up to the world too early. That was too much too soon. And I’m burned. “We should play hide and seek,” I suggested, smiling. They laughed. “Nah, we’re too big for that; Plus Maddie’s red hair is too easy to spot.” Dev nudged her. I took another drink as they squabbled. This isn’t their last summer as kids, it’s their first as adults. I’m the only one who never realised that. Fuck. ------ That’s Rebecca from school, waving at me. “Hey Sidney! How are you? Didn’t think you’d be around here.” She’s smiling. She used to trip me in the hall when I walked past. She’s smiling. She doesn’t remember. Why do I have to? I’m smiling. Why do I see her face- “Hey! Nice to see you too!” more clearly in my mind- “What’s going on?” Than I see my own Mother ------ I don’t feel my arms this morning I don’t feel like a person fuck is this normal am I going to die. Nothing’s wrong Sid it’s all in your head/Something’s wrong with you Sid you’re a bad person. Fuck I can’t breathe anymore. No one told me I would die by drowning. I sit until. It’s gone. ------ I just found some old letters at the bottom of a drawer. I think I left them for myself when I was younger because I thought one day I would be able to look back and think something nice about how far I’ve come but really I know that the girl in the letters is no happier or better than I was. She was just young enough to have an excuse for it. I know she (me? am I even the same person?) dreamed of changing the world. And sometimes I did, when my anger fell into my chest so hard it split my heart open to scream. But the more important it was - the more I wanted it - the more firm life's hand on my back became. I changed grades smudged onto my report cards, not teachers. I changed the weather once, I think, and took the stormcloud with me. It hangs over my head, reminding me I traded thunder for a blue sky, when I should've traded lightning for my Mom's life. When I should have traded my years for hers. ------ It’s warm, in the air and hot on the pavement and cool in the water where my toes dip and simmer, and it’s humid and uncomfortable inside my chest where I am holding myself upright on the ledge of the pool. Deja vu sits in my gut, dizzying. Why has this happened before? Why does it always get uncomfortable the closer I am to being free? Maddie is tanning and Brit is chatting up some blonde that’s laughing at her jokes and Dev and Gail are splashing each other in the pool and laughing. I’m on the edge and I’m sick to my stomach in a way that feels empty. I’m eating up the summer and eating up my time and eating up this postcard-ready day at the pool and I feel starved. Fuck, there’s Gail on the side of the pool with her short brown curls and shaved sides and a butterfly tattoo and olive skin and I’m trying not to stare at her. I think she likes Dev or something. I think I want to kiss her like cinnamon and hot fudge. I wish I had found this out six years ago when my Mom was alive and my Dad didn’t believe in God. Now he believes in a God that doesn’t want me. He thinks that He is the way back to my mother. He forgets that I am half her as well. ------ Did you know that someone died driving off of Pier bridge? Yeah. It was tragic. But it always was coming, I think. Coming around, and around. An endless cycle. The deja vu eats me when I dive. It doesn’t feel like falling because the car is too heavy to feel like real freefall. It was seven minutes after midnight last night. I took the long way around town first. I don’t remember- Anything I was now- But The Starlight That’s what swallowed me first. And I know this will repeat Until I am dead The cycle is endless, [[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>]]	2023-10-06T16:17:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "first-person", "tale" ]	the water or the starlight - SCP Foundation	10	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1450394868	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-water-or-the-starlight
the-world-fades-to-black	<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> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="darkdocument"> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>SYNECDOCHE</span></h1> <h3 id="toc1"><span>(<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7079">RESEARCH STATION SYNECDOCHE</a>)</span></h3> <img alt="poni" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/from-nothing-and-back/poni" style="animation: rotation 64s infinite linear;" width="300px"/> <h2 id="toc2"><span>RELOAD REPORT</span></h2> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <em>OVERSEER: []<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]</em><br/> <em>LOAD TECH: Res. Jamie Roselyn</em><br/> <em>DEPARTMENT: Pataphysical Optics, Noospheric Imaging</em></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="jotting"> <div class="tableb"> <table class="wiki-content-table" style="background-color: rgba(15 15, 15, 1);"> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(80, 80, 80, 1);">A/V TRANSCRIPT - PARADOX ENTRY</th> </tr> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"><BEGIN TRANSCRIPT></th> </tr> <tr> <td> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="blockquote" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"> <p><<em>Location irretrievable. Time irretrievable. Actions irretrievable.</em>></p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Sir. The image failed.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Cause?</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Semiotic collapse, Phyiscal-Abstract Recursion. Requesting clearance for reloading protocol.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Diagnose first.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Understood. Will you assist?</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> <strong>[Transcript recording errors while processing interview log, please contact your site's records liaison for more information.]</strong></p> <p><<em>Local reality obliviates from 3rd dimension.</em>></p> </div> </div> </td> </tr> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"><END TRANSCRIPT></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="skip_box terminal"> <hr/> <h2 id="toc3"><span>PONI - <strong>SYNECDOCHE</strong></span></h2> <h4 id="toc4"><span>Imaging Failure</span></h4> <h4 id="toc5"><span>ERROR CODE: 001</span></h4> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h5 id="toc6"><span>Physical Terminal: <strong><span style="color: red">DISCONNECTED</span></strong></span></h5> <h5 id="toc7"><span>Semio Terminal: <strong><span style="color: red">DISCONNECTED</span></strong></span></h5> <h5 id="toc8"><span>Noo/Info Terminal: <strong><span style="color: red">DISCONNECTED</span></strong></span></h5> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h3 id="toc9"><span><strong>PLEASE CHECK STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY</strong></span></h3> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h4 id="toc10"><span>Retrying snapshot in [5] seconds…</span></h4> <h6 id="toc11"><span>If this error appears after the 3rd attempted snapshot, please reload prior snapshot.</span></h6> </div> <hr/> <div class="jotting"> <div class="tableb"> <table class="wiki-content-table" style="background-color: rgba(15 15, 15, 1);"> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(80, 80, 80, 1);">A/V TRANSCRIPT - DIAGNOSIS/RELOAD</th> </tr> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"><BEGIN TRANSCRIPT></th> </tr> <tr> <td> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="blockquote" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"> <p><<em>Terminal <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">room</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">hall</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">area</span> section. Time irretrievable. Actions irretrievable.</em>></p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Retrieve final image.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Retrieved.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Error origin?</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Proximity "Thaumaturgy, Tired, Machine."</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Isolate and trace.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> 934 results. 49 fresh connections.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Focus on fresh. Search "destroy, engine."</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Eight connections.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Manually sort by probability. Widen connection searches.</p> <p><<em>Error. Automatic transcriber is unable to specify the amount of time passed. Please activate a Scranton Reality Anchor nearby if error reoccurs</em>></p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> One likely connection found.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Remove filters. Search for common factors.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Factor found. <strong>[ENTITY REMOVED]</strong></p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Retrieve coinciding pataspheric image.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Retrieved.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Rewrite pataphysical outcome. Erase <strong>[ENTITY REMOVED]</strong> and ensure Foundation retrieves the ontokinetic engine.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Rewritten to specifications. Confirm rewrite.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> Confirm. Save and load rewritten snapshots.</p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Loaded. Imaging.</p> <p><<em>Five-esque minutes pass</em>></p> <p><strong>Res. Roselyn:</strong> Imaging success. Error reverted.</p> <p><strong>[]<span class="st">UNINTELLEGIBLE</span>[]:</strong> You are excused.</p> </div> </div> </td> </tr> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"><END TRANSCRIPT></th> </tr> <tr> <th></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="skip_box terminal"> <hr/> <h2 id="toc12"><span>PONI - <strong>SYNECDOCHE</strong></span></h2> <h4 id="toc13"><span>Snapshot Success</span></h4> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h5 id="toc14"><span>Physical Terminal: <strong><span style="color: green">CONNECTED</span></strong></span></h5> <h5 id="toc15"><span>Semio Terminal: <strong><span style="color: green">CONNECTED</span></strong></span></h5> <h5 id="toc16"><span>Noo/Info Terminal: <strong><span style="color: green">CONNECTED</span></strong></span></h5> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h3 id="toc17"><span><strong>STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY @ 100%</strong></span></h3> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h3 id="toc18"><span>Reloading Protocol Report has been filed and saved.</span></h3> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="modal"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc19"><span>Related Materials</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <div class="transcript"> <div class="tableb"> <table class="wiki-content-table" style="background-color: rgba(15 15, 15, 1);"> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(80, 80, 80, 1);">A/V TRANSCRIPT - UIU - MTF BACKDOOR SOHO/8631</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="background-color: rgba(5, 5, 5, 1);"> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p><span class="bigtext">FOREWORD:</span> UIU police forces requested assistance from SCPF MTF units to engage an unknown hostile entity. The following is body camera footage from MTF Pi-1 "City Slickers" upon arrival at the scene.</p> </div> </td> </tr> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"><BEGIN TRANSCRIPT></th> </tr> <tr> <td> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div class="blockquote" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"> <p><<em>P1-α, β, and γ face an empty alleyway locked by a holographic thaumaturgic seal and are surrounded by UIU teams. P1-α brings a megaphone to their mouth.</em>></p> <p><span style="color: #0a0a0a"><strong>P1-α:</strong> If you do not exit the alleyway and surrender, we hold the right to enter and arrest. Compliance will be rewarded.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #0a0a0a"><strong>[ENTITY REMOVED]:</strong> Leave me alone! I-I'm so tired, please. Just— <<em>pauses</em>> Just let me have this!</span></p> <p><span style="color: #0a0a0a"><strong>P1-α:</strong> Do you understand the consequences of what you are trying to do? You'll destroy everything! Nothing will be left if you go through with this.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #0a0a0a"><strong>Command:</strong> You have clearance to enter.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #0a0a0a"><strong>[ENTITY REMOVED]:</strong> Please, I'm so tired…</span></p> <p><<em>P1-α, β, and γ breach the seal and enter the alleyway. They pause for ten seconds, confused.</em>></p> <p><strong>P1-γ:</strong> Command, please reconfirm mission objective.</p> <p><strong>Command:</strong> Uh… Unsure, checking in with supervisor and UIU.</p> <p><<em>Five seconds pass.</em>></p> <p><strong>Command:</strong> Objective is hostile entity engagement and disarmament.</p> <p><strong>P1-α:</strong> No entities detected nearby, several thaumaturgic glyphs surround the area and are connected to a machine. Please advise.</p> <p><strong>Command:</strong> Understood, changing objective. Object recovery and containment. Notifying the UIU and sending a containment team. Please vacate the space.</p> </div> </div> </td> </tr> <tr> <th style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"><END TRANSCRIPT></th> </tr> <tr> <th></th> </tr> </table> </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="/the-world-fades-to-black">The World Fades to Black</a>" by yewse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-world-fades-to-black">https://scpwiki.com/the-world-fades-to-black</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> darkmode=a\|hidetitle=a]] [[module css]] :root { --logo:url(https://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/thebillith/synec.png); --title:"R.S. SYNECDOCHE"; --subtitle:"SUPERVISION CONTROLS PROBLEMS"; --barColor:rgb(237, 237, 237); --basalt-overtone: 100, 100, 100; --basalt-undertone: var(--admo-color-bright); --basalt-UI-dark-palette: var(--admo-color-dim); --basalt-bright-element-color: var(--admo-color-bright); --basalt-dark-element-color: var(--admo-color-alt); --basalt-primary-color: var(--admo-color-dark); --basalt-secondary-color: var(--admo-color-dim); --basalt-tertiary-color: 40, 40, 40; --basalt-main-text-color: 190, 190, 190; --basalt-light-text-color: 0, 0, 0; --admo-color-bright: 194, 25, 53; --admo-color-dim: 10, 10, 10; --admo-color-dark: 0, 0, 0; --admo-color-alt: 150, 15, 37; --admo-backdrop: none; --window-radius: 0.875rem; --window-shadow: 0 0 0.625rem rgb(var(--basalt-UI-dark-palette),0.5); --window-border-width: 0.125rem; --window-buttons: radial-gradient(circle at 1rem 50%, rgb(var(--basalt-cancel-color)) 0.35rem, rgb(0,0,0,0) 0.375rem), radial-gradient(circle at 2.125rem 50%, rgb(var(--basalt-alternate-color)) 0.35rem, rgb(0,0,0,0) 0.375rem), radial-gradient(circle at 3.25rem 50%, rgb(var(--basalt-positive-color)) 0.35rem, rgb(0,0,0,0) 0.375rem); --darkdocument-background-color: 22, 22, 22; :is(#page-content table:not(.form), table.wiki-content-table) th :is(div.blockquote, .blockquote, blockquote) { font-family: var(--UI-font); font-weight: normal; text-align: left; background-color: rgb(var(--basalt-primary-color)); word-spacing: 2px; div.blockquote { background-color: rgb(var(--blockquote-background-color)) !important; :is(#page-content table:not(.form), table.wiki-content-table) td { background-color: 48, 48, 48; } } } } @keyframes rotation { from { transform: rotate(0deg); } to { transform: rotate(360deg); } } [class^="skip_"] { box-shadow: var(--window-shadow); border-radius: var(--window-radius); background-color: rgb(var(--basalt-background-color)); padding: 0.5rem 1.5rem; margin: 1.5rem 0; } .skip_box, .skip_side { position: relative; } .skip_box::before, .skip_side::before { content: ""; display: block; width: 4rem; height: 2rem; position: relative; margin-inline-start: -0.5rem; margin-block-end: -0.75rem; background: var(--window-buttons); } .skip_box.terminal { position: relative; font-family: var(--mono-font); background-color: rgb(var(--basalt-UI-dark-palette)); } .skip_box.terminal::after { content: "Terminal"; font-weight: bold; position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; padding: 0.875rem 5.125rem 0; } div.skip_window { position: relative; padding-top: 0; } .skip_window::before { content: attr(data-title); font-family: var(--header-font); font-weight: bold; display: grid; align-items: center; background-color: rgb(var(--basalt-UI-dark-palette)); text-align: center; min-height: var(--window-radius); padding: 0.625em 4rem; margin: 0 -1.5rem; border-radius: var(--window-radius) var(--window-radius) 0 0; } .skip_window::after { content: ""; position: absolute; inset-inline-start: 0.5rem; inset-block-start: 0; width: 4rem; height: 2.5rem; background: var(--window-buttons); } div.skip_float { font-size: 0.9125em; background-color: rgb(var(--blockquote-background-color),var(--basalt-UI-opacity)); -webkit-backdrop-filter: blur(var(--basalt-UI-blur)); backdrop-filter: blur(var(--basalt-UI-blur)); float: left; width: calc(var(--main-content-width)/2.25); box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0.25rem 1.25rem; margin-left: clamp(calc(var(--main-content-width)/-4.5),calc((87.5vw - 95%)/-2), 0rem); } div.skip_float.right { float: right; margin-left: 1.25rem; margin-right: clamp(calc(var(--main-content-width)/-4.5),calc((87.5vw - 95%)/-2), 0rem); } @media only screen and (max-width: 640px) { #page-content div.skip_float { float: none; margin: 0.5rem auto; width: 100%; } } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="darkdocument"]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] + SYNECDOCHE +++ ([[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7079\|RESEARCH STATION SYNECDOCHE]]]) [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/from-nothing-and-back/poni width="300px" style="animation: rotation 64s infinite linear;"]] ++ RELOAD REPORT @@ @@ //OVERSEER: [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]// //LOAD TECH: Res. Jamie Roselyn// //DEPARTMENT: Pataphysical Optics, Noospheric Imaging// [[/div]] [[/=]] ---- [[div class="jotting"]] [[div class="tableb"]] [[table class="wiki-content-table" style="background-color: rgba(15 15, 15, 1);"]]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(80, 80, 80, 1);"]] A/V TRANSCRIPT - PARADOX ENTRY [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"]] <BEGIN TRANSCRIPT> [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[<]] [[div class="blockquote" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"]] <//Location irretrievable. Time irretrievable. Actions irretrievable.//> Res. Roselyn: Sir. The image failed. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Cause? Res. Roselyn: Semiotic collapse, Phyiscal-Abstract Recursion. Requesting clearance for reloading protocol. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Diagnose first. Res. Roselyn: Understood. Will you assist? [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: [Transcript recording errors while processing interview log, please contact your site's records liaison for more information.] <//Local reality obliviates from 3rd dimension.//> [[/div]] [[/<]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"]] <END TRANSCRIPT> [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[div class="skip_box terminal"]] ---- ++ PONI - SYNECDOCHE ++++ Imaging Failure ++++ ERROR CODE: 001 @@ @@ +++++ Physical Terminal: ##red\|DISCONNECTED## +++++ Semio Terminal: ##red\|DISCONNECTED## +++++ Noo/Info Terminal: ##red\|DISCONNECTED## @@ @@ +++ PLEASE CHECK STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY @@ @@ ++++ Retrying snapshot in [5] seconds... ++++++ If this error appears after the 3rd attempted snapshot, please reload prior snapshot. [[/div]] ---- [[div class="jotting"]] [[div class="tableb"]] [[table class="wiki-content-table" style="background-color: rgba(15 15, 15, 1);"]]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(80, 80, 80, 1);"]] A/V TRANSCRIPT - DIAGNOSIS/RELOAD [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"]] <BEGIN TRANSCRIPT> [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[<]] [[div class="blockquote" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"]] <//Terminal --room-- --hall-- --area-- section. Time irretrievable. Actions irretrievable.//> [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Retrieve final image. Res. Roselyn: Retrieved. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Error origin? Res. Roselyn: Proximity "Thaumaturgy, Tired, Machine." [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Isolate and trace. Res. Roselyn: 934 results. 49 fresh connections. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Focus on fresh. Search "destroy, engine." Res. Roselyn: Eight connections. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Manually sort by probability. Widen connection searches. <//Error. Automatic transcriber is unable to specify the amount of time passed. Please activate a Scranton Reality Anchor nearby if error reoccurs//> Res. Roselyn: One likely connection found. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Remove filters. Search for common factors. Res. Roselyn: Factor found. [ENTITY REMOVED] [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Retrieve coinciding pataspheric image. Res. Roselyn: Retrieved. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Rewrite pataphysical outcome. Erase [ENTITY REMOVED] and ensure Foundation retrieves the ontokinetic engine. Res. Roselyn: Rewritten to specifications. Confirm rewrite. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: Confirm. Save and load rewritten snapshots. Res. Roselyn: Loaded. Imaging. <//Five-esque minutes pass//> Res. Roselyn: Imaging success. Error reverted. [][[span class="st"]]UNINTELLEGIBLE[[/span]][]: You are excused. [[/div]] [[/<]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"]] <END TRANSCRIPT> [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ---- [[div class="skip_box terminal"]] ---- ++ PONI - SYNECDOCHE ++++ Snapshot Success @@ @@ +++++ Physical Terminal: ##green\|CONNECTED## +++++ Semio Terminal: ##green\|CONNECTED## +++++ Noo/Info Terminal: ##green\|CONNECTED## @@ @@ +++ STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY @ 100% @@ @@ +++ Reloading Protocol Report has been filed and saved. [[/div]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div class="modal"]] [[=]] ++ Related Materials [[/=]] ---- [[div class="transcript"]] [[div class="tableb"]] [[table class="wiki-content-table" style="background-color: rgba(15 15, 15, 1);"]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(80, 80, 80, 1);"]] A/V TRANSCRIPT - UIU - MTF BACKDOOR SOHO/8631 [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell style="background-color: rgba(5, 5, 5, 1);"]] [[<]] [[span class="bigtext"]]FOREWORD:[[/span]] UIU police forces requested assistance from SCPF MTF units to engage an unknown hostile entity. The following is body camera footage from MTF Pi-1 "City Slickers" upon arrival at the scene. [[/<]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"]] <BEGIN TRANSCRIPT> [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[cell]] [[<]] [[div class="blockquote" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;"]] <//P1-α, β, and γ face an empty alleyway locked by a holographic thaumaturgic seal and are surrounded by UIU teams. P1-α brings a megaphone to their mouth.//> ###0a0a0a\|P1-α: If you do not exit the alleyway and surrender, we hold the right to enter and arrest. Compliance will be rewarded.## ###0a0a0a\|[ENTITY REMOVED]: Leave me alone! I-I'm so tired, please. Just— <//pauses//> Just let me have this!## ###0a0a0a\|P1-α: Do you understand the consequences of what you are trying to do? You'll destroy everything! Nothing will be left if you go through with this.## ###0a0a0a\|Command: You have clearance to enter.## ###0a0a0a\|[ENTITY REMOVED]: Please, I'm so tired...## <//P1-α, β, and γ breach the seal and enter the alleyway. They pause for ten seconds, confused.//> P1-γ: Command, please reconfirm mission objective. Command: Uh... Unsure, checking in with supervisor and UIU. <//Five seconds pass.//> Command: Objective is hostile entity engagement and disarmament. P1-α: No entities detected nearby, several thaumaturgic glyphs surround the area and are connected to a machine. Please advise. Command: Understood, changing objective. Object recovery and containment. Notifying the UIU and sending a containment team. Please vacate the space. [[/div]] [[/<]] [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell style="background-color: rgba(40, 40, 40, 1);"]] <END TRANSCRIPT> [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[row]] [[hcell]] [[/hcell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=yewse]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-22T07:11:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	The World Fades to Black - SCP Foundation	9	[ "scp-7079", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[ "http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/from-nothing-and-back/poni" ]	1446361485	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-world-fades-to-black
the-world-i-knew	<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> <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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="danke mike"> <p>You arrive in your old neighborhood. It feels different. You can hear the cicadas chirping. That probably shouldn't be your primary focus though. The water should. It rises just above your shoes. You feel it soaking into your socks. It bothers you greatly.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>OBSERVE AREA</span></p> <p>You can clearly see the water covering the lawn of your old home. It has been three years. The house remains standing. Your home sits at the bottom of a small incline. The water rises further down towards the house. Trash is strewn about the yard. Old soda cans and empty water bottles that you forgot to throw away. At the top of the incline sits a lone trashcan.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>OBSERVE "TRASHCAN"</span></p> <p>You find yourself walking towards the trashcan, taking the lid off and staring down at the contents within. It's just trash. Relief washes over you. You aren't quite sure what you expected to find, but you suppose it doesn't matter. You put the lid back on slowly, making sure not to disturb the trashcan further.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>OBSERVE "HOUSE"</span></p> <p>You look at the building in front of you. You always said the facade was painted white, but it seems to be a very light yellow. You never were good at noticing those small, minor details. The door seems to be broken, as if it were thrown open with great force. The hinges at the top are broken, leaving the door hanging by the bottom hinges. You see the wall directly behind the door. A portrait your great-grandfather painted of a woman hangs there. The lights are off. It's boiling hot outside, but for whatever reason you feel a chill. You rub your hands together to get some warmth. Something about this situation feels distinctly odd to you. Haven't you done this before?</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>ENTER "HOUSE"</span></p> <p>You walk up the wooden porch steps and feel them creak under your weight. The water has rotted away part of the wood. You hold on tightly to the railing, stopping to smell the air. It smells awful. It's a smell you remember. The smell of rotting cicadas. You look down at the water and see hundreds of cicadas floating above the decaying wood. They must have drowned. You wait a moment, steel yourself, and gently step through the door. The stench has only gotten more powerful. It feels like a furnace inside. You can see the old painting in more detail now. You look around to see your paths forward. The right leads directly upstairs to where the bedrooms are. The left leads directly into the living room. Forward is nothing but the painting.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>ENTER "LIVING ROOM"</span></p> <p>As you turn to face the living room, feeling the water beneath your feet, you feel an impending sense of dread. You shouldn't turn. Yet you do. You see your mother's corpse in the living room. It is floating in the water, face upwards. You think you should feel shock, but you don't feel anything. Her arms and legs are facing outwards like a starfish. You wish she had a face. There is a hole from her chin to her forehead. You hope she drowned. That seems unlikely. You can see blood in the water. Do cicadas bleed?</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>CLOSE "EYES"</span></p> <p>I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by CLOSE "EYES".</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>KNEEL</span></p> <p>I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by KNEEL.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>CRY</span></p> <p>I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by CRY.</p> <p>The only thing you can do is stare at her corpse. She was alive when you last saw her three short years ago. Now she isn't. This single moment is one you've been coming back to for years and years. You look at her face and think that maybe this time will be different. Maybe you could do something to save her. The truth is that you can't.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>RESTART</span></p> <p>No. You'll come back to this moment again anyway. You need to look at her. Repeating the same shattered scene day in and day out has brought you here. It's quite sad. You blame yourself for what happened. The hole in her face confirms your guilt. It was your fault. She isn't the only one. She just happens to be the one in front of you. You feel a drop of water hit your neck.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>LOOK UP</span></p> <p>You look up and see a hole in the ceiling. It seems the rain is starting early. You might have to end the trip here. You don't want to, though. You don't want to accept the passing of time. Certainly an understandable sentiment, but one that reeks of childish sorrow. Crying when the lights go out and the cicadas begin to chirp so loudly you can't hear your heartbeat. Listening to the sounds of someone you'll never meet on your radio to put you to sleep. It's pathetic. A grown woman hiding in a closet full of memories to escape her problems, as if she's the only one in the world with them. As if her problems are real.</p> <p>They aren't. Do you remember your mother's face? Your father's? Do you remember the feel of the bed you never slept in? Memories of things that never occurred, of people who never existed, of a mother who never died. It keeps you up at night. It tortures you. Is it okay to feel this way? To cry over these non-existent victims of a non-existent disaster? People say it is but… you question it. Their sincerity. They don't truly understand you, after all. Even the ones just like you look down on you. You aren't really one of them, are you? You're just some lonely woman making things up to get people to pity you. To sympathize with you. Pathetic. You suppose in the end it doesn't matter. You've always been alone. It begins to rain.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">>EXIT</span></p> <p>The rain batters your skin, as though soft fists hammering your body. It beats into your soul, your heart a drum. Every night is a hellish return to this day. Every time you close your eyes, you come back here and relive a nightmare. You want to go back to the world you knew, as painful as it was. You want this moment back, as horrifying as it is. You want the rain in your heart to feel like it belongs. You want the bright nights and cold days to give way once more to endless heat and great hordes of cicadas.</p> <p>As much as it pains you to say, you miss the days when the world felt like it was slowly decaying, when your heart was closed to all. The days without anyone to talk to. The nights spent listening to the rain drowning the world in accumulated sorrow and pain. It's time to stop living in the shadows of a forgotten past.</p> <p>Shut the computer off. Turn the lights out. At the end of everything, all you have left are memories of nothing.</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-world-i-knew">The World I Knew</a>" by MisatoKS, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/the-world-i-knew">https://scpwiki.com/the-world-i-knew</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/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> darkmode=a\|centertitle=a]] [[module css]] .danke { padding: 5px; margin-bottom:10px; font-family: monospace; font-size: 1.1em; } .agent { background-color:#002200; border: 3px solid #55AA55; color: #77CC77; } .site { background-color:#222200; border: 3px solid #AAAA55; color: #DDDD77; } .mike { background-color:#000000; border: 3px solid #FFFFFF; color: #FFFFFF; } [[/module]] [[div class="danke mike"]] You arrive in your old neighborhood. It feels different. You can hear the cicadas chirping. That probably shouldn't be your primary focus though. The water should. It rises just above your shoes. You feel it soaking into your socks. It bothers you greatly. @@>OBSERVE AREA@@ You can clearly see the water covering the lawn of your old home. It has been three years. The house remains standing. Your home sits at the bottom of a small incline. The water rises further down towards the house. Trash is strewn about the yard. Old soda cans and empty water bottles that you forgot to throw away. At the top of the incline sits a lone trashcan. @@>OBSERVE "TRASHCAN"@@ You find yourself walking towards the trashcan, taking the lid off and staring down at the contents within. It's just trash. Relief washes over you. You aren't quite sure what you expected to find, but you suppose it doesn't matter. You put the lid back on slowly, making sure not to disturb the trashcan further. @@>OBSERVE "HOUSE"@@ You look at the building in front of you. You always said the facade was painted white, but it seems to be a very light yellow. You never were good at noticing those small, minor details. The door seems to be broken, as if it were thrown open with great force. The hinges at the top are broken, leaving the door hanging by the bottom hinges. You see the wall directly behind the door. A portrait your great-grandfather painted of a woman hangs there. The lights are off. It's boiling hot outside, but for whatever reason you feel a chill. You rub your hands together to get some warmth. Something about this situation feels distinctly odd to you. Haven't you done this before? @@>ENTER "HOUSE"@@ You walk up the wooden porch steps and feel them creak under your weight. The water has rotted away part of the wood. You hold on tightly to the railing, stopping to smell the air. It smells awful. It's a smell you remember. The smell of rotting cicadas. You look down at the water and see hundreds of cicadas floating above the decaying wood. They must have drowned. You wait a moment, steel yourself, and gently step through the door. The stench has only gotten more powerful. It feels like a furnace inside. You can see the old painting in more detail now. You look around to see your paths forward. The right leads directly upstairs to where the bedrooms are. The left leads directly into the living room. Forward is nothing but the painting. @@>ENTER "LIVING ROOM"@@ As you turn to face the living room, feeling the water beneath your feet, you feel an impending sense of dread. You shouldn't turn. Yet you do. You see your mother's corpse in the living room. It is floating in the water, face upwards. You think you should feel shock, but you don't feel anything. Her arms and legs are facing outwards like a starfish. You wish she had a face. There is a hole from her chin to her forehead. You hope she drowned. That seems unlikely. You can see blood in the water. Do cicadas bleed? @@>CLOSE "EYES"@@ I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by CLOSE "EYES". @@>KNEEL@@ I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by KNEEL. @@>CRY@@ I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by CRY. The only thing you can do is stare at her corpse. She was alive when you last saw her three short years ago. Now she isn't. This single moment is one you've been coming back to for years and years. You look at her face and think that maybe this time will be different. Maybe you could do something to save her. The truth is that you can't. @@>RESTART@@ No. You'll come back to this moment again anyway. You need to look at her. Repeating the same shattered scene day in and day out has brought you here. It's quite sad. You blame yourself for what happened. The hole in her face confirms your guilt. It was your fault. She isn't the only one. She just happens to be the one in front of you. You feel a drop of water hit your neck. @@>LOOK UP@@ You look up and see a hole in the ceiling. It seems the rain is starting early. You might have to end the trip here. You don't want to, though. You don't want to accept the passing of time. Certainly an understandable sentiment, but one that reeks of childish sorrow. Crying when the lights go out and the cicadas begin to chirp so loudly you can't hear your heartbeat. Listening to the sounds of someone you'll never meet on your radio to put you to sleep. It's pathetic. A grown woman hiding in a closet full of memories to escape her problems, as if she's the only one in the world with them. As if her problems are real. They aren't. Do you remember your mother's face? Your father's? Do you remember the feel of the bed you never slept in? Memories of things that never occurred, of people who never existed, of a mother who never died. It keeps you up at night. It tortures you. Is it okay to feel this way? To cry over these non-existent victims of a non-existent disaster? People say it is but… you question it. Their sincerity. They don't truly understand you, after all. Even the ones just like you look down on you. You aren't really one of them, are you? You're just some lonely woman making things up to get people to pity you. To sympathize with you. Pathetic. You suppose in the end it doesn't matter. You've always been alone. It begins to rain. @@>EXIT@@ The rain batters your skin, as though soft fists hammering your body. It beats into your soul, your heart a drum. Every night is a hellish return to this day. Every time you close your eyes, you come back here and relive a nightmare. You want to go back to the world you knew, as painful as it was. You want this moment back, as horrifying as it is. You want the rain in your heart to feel like it belongs. You want the bright nights and cold days to give way once more to endless heat and great hordes of cicadas. As much as it pains you to say, you miss the days when the world felt like it was slowly decaying, when your heart was closed to all. The days without anyone to talk to. The nights spent listening to the rain drowning the world in accumulated sorrow and pain. It's time to stop living in the shadows of a forgotten past. Shut the computer off. Turn the lights out. At the end of everything, all you have left are memories of nothing. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=MisatoKS]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-11T02:59:00	[ "_licensebox", "no-dialogue", "reviewers-spotlight", "second-person", "tale" ]	The World I Knew - SCP Foundation	55	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii" ]	[]	1449355448	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-world-i-knew
there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard	<html><body></body></html>	[[>]] [[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/theme:eventyr">:scp-wiki:theme:eventyr</a>]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/1_1%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/1%20%284%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/2%20%282%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/3%20%283%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/4%20%284%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/5%20%283%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/6%20%283%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/7%20%283%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/8%20%282%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/9.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/10%20%283%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/11%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/12%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/13%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/14%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/15%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/16%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/17%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/18%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/19%20%283%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/20%20%281%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/21%20%282%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/22.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/23.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/24%20%282%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/25%20%282%29.png]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard/26%20%282%29.png]]	2023-08-21T10:43:00	[ "_cc", "cel-shaded", "comic", "eventyr", "painted", "remixcon2023", "scp-art", "sketched", "tale" ]	There Be Dragons In My Backyard - SCP Foundation	115	[]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "remixcon2023", "artist-showcase-archive" ]	[]	1449446580	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/there-be-dragons-in-my-backyard
theres-ngo-helping-this-one	<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> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>There's Ngo Helping This One</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>"I just feel like I get no respect around here, Dr. Ngo, no respect." William Wettle sighed, burying his face in his hands, which caused his glasses to get smudged up. He grumbled and grabbed at his mustard-stained lab coat to clean the smudge, only for one of the lenses to pop out and hit the ground. Wettle sighed again, then bent over from the couch to pick it up.</p> <p>"Were you going for a Rodney Dangerfield reference with that last bit there, Dr. Wettle?" Ngo clasped her hands together and raised her leg up on the chair she sat on.</p> <p>"Who?"</p> <p>"You know, the comedian with the wild eyes who pulls on his tie and says 'no respect' and things like that?"</p> <p>"I'm not much into comedians."</p> <p>"In either case, maybe this is a problem with how you are perceiving yourself in comparison to your peers. Do you view yourself as worthy of respect?"</p> <p>Wettle futzed with his glasses and the missing lens, trying to re-insert it. He muttered a few curse words under his breath before answering with a drawn out "Yes."</p> <p>Ngo nodded. "And why do you think people treat you different?"</p> <p>"I have no god damn idea, Dr. Ngo! It's like I'm a magnet for abuse. Like I'm a chew toy for the fucking universe."</p> <p>"It is important to consider one's own actions and words when viewing how others inter—"</p> <p>"Dr. Ngo, no one calls me Dr. Wettle. It's 'Willie' at best or 'Fat Slob' at worst. I have a PhD, god damn it!" He raised his hands in annoyance, swinging his glasses around as he did so.</p> <p>"We all have PhDs here, Dr. Wettle. But I'll bite. Do you perhaps have any examples of your coworkers not treating you with due respect?"</p> <p>"Why, yes, yes I do. So Dr. Blank, right? You know him, right? Harry?"</p> <p>"I do."</p> <p>"Right, yes. Anyway, there's a file about <a href="/scp-6263">an anomaly that affects people who make typos.</a> I leave a note saying that it's a stupid anomaly that probably just comes down to human error. I would know, I'm a replications expert. And then Harry, he just comes along and points out that I made a typo and makes fun of me for it. Spelled 'buffoon' with an 'a.' Next thing I know, the file is locked and I'm the laughingstock of the entire Site because of a simple spelling error."</p> <p>"It's just a typo. I don't think you should let it get to you as much as you have. We all make mistakes."</p> <p>"But clearly everyone else treats it like a big deal!" Wettle again swung his glasses around; this time they flew out of his hand and impacted against the wall. "Ugh. Great," he sighed, getting up to grab them. The lens that was still in place was now cracked.</p> <p>"Hmm." Ngo's raised leg met the ground again as she pondered. "Well, Dr. Wettle—"</p> <p>"Thank you for calling me Dr. Wettle, by the way. You're the only one who does."</p> <p>"Of course. Now, as I was saying, I think your coworker's behavior may be a reflection of how you view yourself. Do you view yourself as someone worth respecting?"</p> <p>"No shit, I do," he said under his breath, taking a seat on the couch again while inspecting his broken glasses.</p> <p>"I think you may have some confidence issues, Dr. Wettle."</p> <p>"Why? I'm plenty confident."</p> <p>"When was the last time you took a risk?"</p> <p>"I take a risk coming into work every day."</p> <p>"That's not what I mean. I mean being open with your feelings. Telling your coworkers about how they are hurting you."</p> <p>For the first time since entering her office, Wettle was silent. He stammered a few incomprehensible phrases before ultimately shutting up and looking down to the frame of his glasses in his hands. Ngo nodded knowingly.</p> <p>"I see. Well, Dr. Wettle, I want you to try and be open with them next time you feel you are disrespected. That will be your homework for next session. Sound good?"</p> <p>"I… I suppose so."</p> <p>"Good. And get yourself new glasses while you're at it. I'd hate for you to have an accident because you couldn't see."</p> <div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> <strong>From:</strong> William Wettle<br/> <strong>To:</strong> Nhung Ngo<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> Emergency visit<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 07/07/2022<br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Dr. Ngo,</p> <p>I realize that you may be busy with other patients but I had a really bad day today. Would it be possible for me to come whenever you can pencil me in for?</p> <p>Thanks.</p> <hr/> <p><em>Replication Studies</em></p> <p>William Wettle</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> <strong>From:</strong> Nhung Ngo<br/> <strong>To:</strong> William Wettle<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> RE: Emergency visit<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 07/07/2022<br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Hello,</p> <p>I am actually all booked up throughout the immediate future, but I can try my best to provide help via email for now. What happened?</p> <p>Hoping things get better,</p> <hr/> <p><em>Psychology and Parapsychology Section</em></p> <p>Nhung Ngo</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> <strong>From:</strong> William Wettle<br/> <strong>To:</strong> Nhung Ngo<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> RE:RE:Emergency visit<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 07/07/2022<br/> <em>📎One (1) Attachment</em><br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Dr. Ngo,</p> <p>I think it would just be for best if you read the disciplinary report I got today.</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">View Attachment?</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Attachment Opened</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <h4 id="toc1"><span>NOTICE OF DISCIPLINARY WARNING</span></h4> <p>This notice indicates that I, <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: red">WILLIAM WETTLE</span></em></span>, have been informed by <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: green">THE ETHICS COMMITTEE</span></em></span> of recent rule-breaking behavior. I, <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: red">WILLIAM WETTLE</span></em></span>, agree to not repeat this behavior under threat of further disciplinary action.</p> <p>ETHICS COMMITTEE LIAISON SIGNATURE:</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: green">K. INADA</span></em></span></p> <p>SUPERVISOR SIGNATURE:</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: blue">A. MCINNIS</span></em></span></p> <p>PENALTY:</p> <p>Docking of monthly pay (TBD).</p> <p>NOTES:<br/> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: green">Violence against fellow employees, whether claimed to be unintentional or not, will not be tolerated.</span></em></span></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><span style="color: blue">Get it together, Willie.</span></em></span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p><em>Replication Studies</em></p> <p>William Wettle</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> <strong>From:</strong> Nhung Ngo<br/> <strong>To:</strong> William Wettle<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> RE:RE:RE: Emergency visit<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 07/07/2022<br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>VIOLENCE AGAINST FELLOW EMPLOYEES?????????<br/> William, what did you do?!</p> <hr/> <p><em>Psychology and Parapsychology Section</em></p> <p>Nhung Ngo</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> <strong>From:</strong> William Wettle<br/> <strong>To:</strong> Nhung Ngo<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> RE:RE:RE:RE:Emergency visit<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 07/07/2022<br/> <em>📎One (1) Attachment</em><br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Dr. Ngo,</p> <p>Please, just let me talk to you in person. I can explain everything.</p> <p>Please.</p> <hr/> <p><em>Replication Studies</em></p> <p>William Wettle</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"> <p><span style="font-size:75%;"><br/> <strong>From:</strong> Nhung Ngo<br/> <strong>To:</strong> William Wettle<br/> <strong>Subject:</strong> RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Emergency…<br/> <strong>Date:</strong> 07/07/2022<br/></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Meet me in my office. You have five minutes.</p> <hr/> <p><em>Psychology and Parapsychology Section</em></p> <p>Nhung Ngo</p> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p>Wettle entered Ngo's office in a manic state: missing a shoe, lab coat stained with a mystery substance, and out of breath. "Dr. Ngo!" he wheezed out, dragging himself towards the psychologist like a wounded seal on the beach.</p> <p>Ngo was perfectly opposed to Wettle; sitting with her hands folded and resting on her desk. "Yes, Dr. Wettle?" She replied calmly.</p> <p>"Give me a moment, I just need to… need to catch my breath."</p> <p>"Five minutes, Dr. Wettle."</p> <p>"Okay okay fine! I was going to the Site cafeteria and Dr. Blank was in front of me. I… I fell. And I reached forward trying to not fall and I guess I flailed and hit Harry in the face by accident."</p> <p>"… Dr. Wettle…"</p> <p>"But wait, there's more."</p> <p>"Oh my God."</p> <p>"Remember my homework that you told me to do? I did it there because I felt like I was being disrespected over an accident."</p> <p>"Dr. Wettle, I—"</p> <p>"I didn't do it on purpose! I just—"</p> <p>Ngo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay. I believe you. You are the most accident-prone person I have ever met. To the point of… well… to the point of it being anomalous."</p> <p>"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just unfortunate."</p> <p>"Well… There is something you should be made aware about, Dr. Wettle."</p> <p>"What's that?"</p> <p>"Have you checked your email since this morning?"</p> <p>"No. I don't like looking at my email."</p> <p>"…"</p> <p>"Don't give me that face. It's usually either Harry making fun of me or Karen being a bitch."</p> <p>"Seriously. It's an ETTRA all-hands-on-deck crisis."</p> <p>"What?" Dr. Wettle reached into his lab coat pocket to pull out his phone, only for it to fall. He bent over to pick it up and farted. "Oops. Excuse me."</p> <p>Ngo sighed. She watched as Wettle unlocked his device and scrolled to his emails.</p> <p>"The one from Sokolsky?" Wettle looked up at her.</p> <p>"Who else would it be from?"</p> <p>The two were silent for a moment as he read the message through his cracked screen. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he turned around.</p> <p>"I need to go." Wettle ran out of Ngo's office, leaving the door wide open. She heard him trip over himself further down the hallway as she stood to shut the door.</p> <p>"What a <a href="/scp-7000">loser.</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></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-076">SCP-ES-076</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-3756">SCP-3756</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="/scp-2983">SCP-2983</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7725">SCP-7725</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-4206">SCP-4206</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4046">SCP-4046</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-4982">SCP-4982</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4726">SCP-4726</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-654">SCP-654</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6467">SCP-6467</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4176">SCP-4176</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="/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="/uiu-file-2001-745">UIU File: 2001-745</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/critter-profile-maya">Critter Profile: Maya!</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/raisa-6147">RAISA-6147 (PENDING ASSIGNMENT)</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/sc-99-734-01-506">SC-99/734/01/506</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/sebastian">Sebastian</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/fifteenth-anonymous-donation">Fifteenth Anonymous Donation</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="/para-puppies">'Para-Pedigrees' PED464/CAN33/LUP22</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/stormsite19">#StormSite19</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/shape-shift-with-me">Shape Shift With Me</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/uiu-file-2008-21">UIU File: 2008-021</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="/a-tale-about-petty-revenge">A Tale Of Petty Revenge</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/chasing-the-union">Chasing The Union</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="/theres-ngo-helping-this-one">There's Ngo Helping This One</a>" by Uncle Nicolini, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/theres-ngo-helping-this-one">https://scpwiki.com/theres-ngo-helping-this-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>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + There's Ngo Helping This One [[/=]] ----- "I just feel like I get no respect around here, Dr. Ngo, no respect." William Wettle sighed, burying his face in his hands, which caused his glasses to get smudged up. He grumbled and grabbed at his mustard-stained lab coat to clean the smudge, only for one of the lenses to pop out and hit the ground. Wettle sighed again, then bent over from the couch to pick it up. "Were you going for a Rodney Dangerfield reference with that last bit there, Dr. Wettle?" Ngo clasped her hands together and raised her leg up on the chair she sat on. "Who?" "You know, the comedian with the wild eyes who pulls on his tie and says 'no respect' and things like that?" "I'm not much into comedians." "In either case, maybe this is a problem with how you are perceiving yourself in comparison to your peers. Do you view yourself as worthy of respect?" Wettle futzed with his glasses and the missing lens, trying to re-insert it. He muttered a few curse words under his breath before answering with a drawn out "Yes." Ngo nodded. "And why do you think people treat you different?" "I have no god damn idea, Dr. Ngo! It's like I'm a magnet for abuse. Like I'm a chew toy for the fucking universe." "It is important to consider one's own actions and words when viewing how others inter--" "Dr. Ngo, no one calls me Dr. Wettle. It's 'Willie' at best or 'Fat Slob' at worst. I have a PhD, god damn it!" He raised his hands in annoyance, swinging his glasses around as he did so. "We all have PhDs here, Dr. Wettle. But I'll bite. Do you perhaps have any examples of your coworkers not treating you with due respect?" "Why, yes, yes I do. So Dr. Blank, right? You know him, right? Harry?" "I do." "Right, yes. Anyway, there's a file about [[[scp-6263\|an anomaly that affects people who make typos.]]] I leave a note saying that it's a stupid anomaly that probably just comes down to human error. I would know, I'm a replications expert. And then Harry, he just comes along and points out that I made a typo and makes fun of me for it. Spelled 'buffoon' with an 'a.' Next thing I know, the file is locked and I'm the laughingstock of the entire Site because of a simple spelling error." "It's just a typo. I don't think you should let it get to you as much as you have. We all make mistakes." "But clearly everyone else treats it like a big deal!" Wettle again swung his glasses around; this time they flew out of his hand and impacted against the wall. "Ugh. Great," he sighed, getting up to grab them. The lens that was still in place was now cracked. "Hmm." Ngo's raised leg met the ground again as she pondered. "Well, Dr. Wettle--" "Thank you for calling me Dr. Wettle, by the way. You're the only one who does." "Of course. Now, as I was saying, I think your coworker's behavior may be a reflection of how you view yourself. Do you view yourself as someone worth respecting?" "No shit, I do," he said under his breath, taking a seat on the couch again while inspecting his broken glasses. "I think you may have some confidence issues, Dr. Wettle." "Why? I'm plenty confident." "When was the last time you took a risk?" "I take a risk coming into work every day." "That's not what I mean. I mean being open with your feelings. Telling your coworkers about how they are hurting you." For the first time since entering her office, Wettle was silent. He stammered a few incomprehensible phrases before ultimately shutting up and looking down to the frame of his glasses in his hands. Ngo nodded knowingly. "I see. Well, Dr. Wettle, I want you to try and be open with them next time you feel you are disrespected. That will be your homework for next session. Sound good?" "I... I suppose so." "Good. And get yourself new glasses while you're at it. I'd hate for you to have an accident because you couldn't see." [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] [[div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[size 75%]] From: William Wettle To: Nhung Ngo Subject: Emergency visit Date: 07/07/2022 [[/size]] @@ @@ Dr. Ngo, I realize that you may be busy with other patients but I had a really bad day today. Would it be possible for me to come whenever you can pencil me in for? Thanks. ---- //Replication Studies// William Wettle [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[size 75%]] From: Nhung Ngo To: William Wettle Subject: RE: Emergency visit Date: 07/07/2022 [[/size]] @@ @@ Hello, I am actually all booked up throughout the immediate future, but I can try my best to provide help via email for now. What happened? Hoping things get better, ---- //Psychology and Parapsychology Section// Nhung Ngo [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[size 75%]] From: William Wettle To: Nhung Ngo Subject: RE:RE:Emergency visit Date: 07/07/2022 //📎One (1) Attachment// [[/size]] @@ @@ Dr. Ngo, I think it would just be for best if you read the disciplinary report I got today. [[collapsible show="View Attachment?" hide="Attachment Opened"]] [[div class="blockquote"]] ++++ NOTICE OF DISCIPLINARY WARNING This notice indicates that I, __//##red\|WILLIAM WETTLE##//__, have been informed by __//##green\|THE ETHICS COMMITTEE##//__ of recent rule-breaking behavior. I, __//##red\|WILLIAM WETTLE##//__, agree to not repeat this behavior under threat of further disciplinary action. ETHICS COMMITTEE LIAISON SIGNATURE: __//##green\|K. INADA##//__ SUPERVISOR SIGNATURE: __//##blue\|A. MCINNIS##//__ PENALTY: Docking of monthly pay (TBD). NOTES: __//##green\|Violence against fellow employees, whether claimed to be unintentional or not, will not be tolerated.##//__ __//##blue\|Get it together, Willie.##//__ [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ---- //Replication Studies// William Wettle [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[size 75%]] From: Nhung Ngo To: William Wettle Subject: RE:RE:RE: Emergency visit Date: 07/07/2022 [[/size]] @@ @@ VIOLENCE AGAINST FELLOW EMPLOYEES????????? William, what did you do?! ---- //Psychology and Parapsychology Section// Nhung Ngo [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[size 75%]] From: William Wettle To: Nhung Ngo Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:Emergency visit Date: 07/07/2022 //📎One (1) Attachment// [[/size]] @@ @@ Dr. Ngo, Please, just let me talk to you in person. I can explain everything. Please. ---- //Replication Studies// William Wettle [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div style="background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png) top right no-repeat; float: center; border: solid 3px #444444; width: 85%; padding: 1px 15px; margin: auto; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(0,0,0,.2);"]] [[size 75%]] From: Nhung Ngo To: William Wettle Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Emergency... Date: 07/07/2022 [[/size]] @@ @@ Meet me in my office. You have five minutes. ---- //Psychology and Parapsychology Section// Nhung Ngo [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[/div]] Wettle entered Ngo's office in a manic state: missing a shoe, lab coat stained with a mystery substance, and out of breath. "Dr. Ngo!" he wheezed out, dragging himself towards the psychologist like a wounded seal on the beach. Ngo was perfectly opposed to Wettle; sitting with her hands folded and resting on her desk. "Yes, Dr. Wettle?" She replied calmly. "Give me a moment, I just need to... need to catch my breath." "Five minutes, Dr. Wettle." "Okay okay fine! I was going to the Site cafeteria and Dr. Blank was in front of me. I... I fell. And I reached forward trying to not fall and I guess I flailed and hit Harry in the face by accident." "... Dr. Wettle..." "But wait, there's more." "Oh my God." "Remember my homework that you told me to do? I did it there because I felt like I was being disrespected over an accident." "Dr. Wettle, I--" "I didn't do it on purpose! I just--" Ngo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay. I believe you. You are the most accident-prone person I have ever met. To the point of... well... to the point of it being anomalous." "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just unfortunate." "Well... There is something you should be made aware about, Dr. Wettle." "What's that?" "Have you checked your email since this morning?" "No. I don't like looking at my email." "..." "Don't give me that face. It's usually either Harry making fun of me or Karen being a bitch." "Seriously. It's an ETTRA all-hands-on-deck crisis." "What?" Dr. Wettle reached into his lab coat pocket to pull out his phone, only for it to fall. He bent over to pick it up and farted. "Oops. Excuse me." Ngo sighed. She watched as Wettle unlocked his device and scrolled to his emails. "The one from Sokolsky?" Wettle looked up at her. "Who else would it be from?" The two were silent for a moment as he read the message through his cracked screen. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he turned around. "I need to go." Wettle ran out of Ngo's office, leaving the door wide open. She heard him trip over himself further down the hallway as she stood to shut the door. "What a [[[scp-7000\|loser.]]]" @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[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>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-12-29T14:32:00	[ "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "comedy", "doctor-wettle", "on-guard-43", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	There's Ngo Helping This One - SCP Foundation	41	[ "scp-6263", "scp-7000", "scp-es-076", "scp-3756", "scp-1799", "scp-2983", "scp-7725", "scp-7260", "scp-4206", "scp-4046", "scp-1046", "scp-4982", "scp-4726", "scp-3297", "scp-654", "scp-6467", "scp-4176", "error-404-database-not-found", "uiu-file-2001-745", "critter-profile-maya", "raisa-6147", "sc-99-734-01-506", "sebastian", "fifteenth-anonymous-donation", "surprise-happy-birthday-12", "para-puppies", "stormsite19", "shape-shift-with-me", "uiu-file-2008-21", "la-persistencia-de-la-memoria", "a-tale-about-petty-revenge", "chasing-the-union", "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "sciptember-2022-art", "ode-to-the-unknown-author", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1451996022	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theres-ngo-helping-this-one
thereven-germination	<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 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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="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>THEREVEN: GERMINATION</span></h1> </div> <br/> Director Cole Thereven slams into a Eurtec alley wall, his twin pistols slippery with sweat. <p>The neon purple and blue lights of Eurtec disorient him; he can't tell if his pursuers are still rushing towards him in the distance.</p> <p>This assignment had seemed so simple — the Foundation Eurtech diplomatic team had requested his presence for a highly delicate arrangement, given the past successes of the Department of Anomalous Communications and Relations in dealing with extreme deviant psychologies. And he'd charmed the Eurtec underworld delegation for long enough, and the progress was going fine, and it seemed like it would be another great success for Thereven and DACR — but then he'd accidentally chained together a series of kill words, and the Eurtec cops' cybernetic kill implants had activated, and he'd barely escaped with his life.</p> <p>(did it even make sense for Eurtec to have an underworld, wondered Cole Thereven. The Silicon Nornir were the weavers of fate, a hybrid between deitic and machine intelligences, running the city in the name of the Global Occult Coalition, the Foundation's sole rival for the fate of the world. He'd hoped to have a chance to speak with them while he was here, but that seemed out of the question now. But why would they allow crime in their perfect city?)</p> <p>The rain hammers his head. His breath is heavy, but he has no chance to rest. They'll be upon him soon.</p> <p>He kisses his guns — Candor and Connection — and hurries deeper into the alleyway. To his dismay, it ends in a chain link fence, and he can't climb it with this much rain and with guns in hand.</p> <p>The alleyway lights up with strobing red. They've caught him. But Cole isn't one to give up.</p> <p>He swivels around, shooting wildly as he does so. And he falls, gracefully, in a rain of their plasma bullets.</p> <p>And so Cole Thereven dies.</p> <p>Again.</p> <hr/> <p>Cole Thereven was always destined to meet the mysteries of the universe face-to-face.</p> <p>When Cole was a child, his family took a trip to Japan. Japan, of course, is famously racist and xenophobic, especially against other Asians, and Cole just so happened to be Filipino. So while the Thereven family was able to enjoy the benefits of tourism in Japan, the endless food, the shopping, the ancient shrines and high tech cities, being there was a sad and constant reminder that the technological paradise of glorious Nihon was for other people.</p> <p>Cole wasn't satisfied by this, even then. On the final day of their vacation, he snuck away from his parents to see what the real Japan was like. He passed by a Japanese elementary school and spied some kids some age. He was always a gregarious and friendly child, and while this worked very well in his quaint midwestern homeland of Wisconsin, it served him less well here.</p> <p>He said hi to the Japanese schoolchildren, and they responded in Japanese, which he did not speak. They grew ever more derisive and he responded in more and more panicked English, which ended with him being shoved into a sewer.</p> <p>This could have been the end of Cole Thereven, there and then, but even at such a young age Cole was resilient, persevering, and unwilling to give up. On sight alone, he followed the sewer along the walls, facing the wind, hoping to find a way out. Every step he took seemed to bring him deeper into the darkness, but he refused to let that stop him.</p> <p>And then he reached a set of stairs.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="stairs.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6807/stairs.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>The Stairs.</p> </div> </div> <p>He began to climb. There was a faint hum in the distance, the sound of the wind or perhaps the city above. As he climbed, that sound seemed to get louder and higher.</p> <p>He wondered, with every step, if his parents missed him, and if his family worried for him. He felt bad to worry them, of course, and mad that his sense of adventure had landed him in such water. Most of all, he missed them, and his tummy was starting to hurt.</p> <p>There were mushrooms on the side of the stairs, bright green, and they smelled like candy, so he ate some even though they were glowing. They didn't look like poisonous red mushrooms, so he thought he was safe. And in any case he knew that if he didn't eat, he would die anyways. The mushrooms gave him strength to keep climbing, filling him with an endless vigor.</p> <p>He kept following the stairs upwards. The higher and higher he went, the higher the hum grew. He felt confident he was going the right way. But the higher he went, the harder it became to keep going, and the more he stopped to eat the green mushrooms, but not the red ones.</p> <p>He wondered how he hadn't made it back to the surface yet. He hadn't fallen that far when the bullies had shoved him into the drain. Surely he would have reached the surface hours and hours ago. But still he kept climbing. The stairs kept going up, and the noise kept getting louder, so it made sense, didn't it?</p> <p>But as he took another step upwards, he saw a great big twisted claw — and a great big clawed flipper, reaching for his head, and he stumbled backwards and fell, and thought he would be falling to his death, tumbling down hundreds upon hundreds of flights of stairs — but he crashed to the ground after only one flight of stairs, and he saw, atop that single flight, a dark and looming shadow, staring at him with bright red eyes, and he knew his death was come—</p> <p>But then a figure, clad in blue overalls and a rusty brown t-shirt, jumped past him towards the stairs, wielding a wrench in one hand, reaching into a utility belt with the other. From that utility belt the figure pulled a welding torch, and brandished it at the shadow atop the stairs. The foul demon of the stairs roared in agony and stepped upwards into nothingness, fading from sight, and as if to dismiss it for good the noble warrior jumped towards the darkness and jumped on its head.</p> <p>It roared in agony, falling to its belly as it faded into the distant darkness.</p> <p>The valiant warrior came to Cole, and to his mortification he began to cry. He was tired and lost and had had a very stressful day. "I want my mommy!"</p> <p>The man said, in slightly accented English. "Hey. Hey, it's ok, little boy. Are you lost?"</p> <p>Slowly, Cole nodded. He knew talking to strangers was dangerous, but it wasn't like this day could get any worse.</p> <p>"It's alright now. I'll get you out of here and to your parents. You can trust me. I'm a Plumber."</p> <p>Cole knew that Plumbers were usually pretty good at fixing pipes and toilets, so this made him feel better. He pointed at the stairs, which looked like a normal pair of stairs again. "What was that?"</p> <p>The Plumber looked at the stairs with a troubled look upon his face. "Something me and my friends have spent a very long time dealing with," he said soberly. "You're lucky I came here when I did — that's a very dangerous set of stairs you found yourself on."</p> <p>"I meant the turtle," Cole said.</p> <p>"Some things are too dangerous to know about," the Plumber said, his bushy mustache twisting with his frown.</p> <p>But Cole didn't believe that. He'd heard the roars of the demon as it was driven away, and a part of him had felt a kindred spirit with the beast. It hadn't sounded angry, or hungry, or mad.</p> <p>It had sounded lonely, the keening of a wounded beast, trying to find others of its kind but repelled from this reality by guardians who didn't know better.</p> <p>The Plumber led Cole out of the sewers, and by nightfall he had been reunited with his parents.</p> <p>But that encounter stuck with him.</p> <p>There were places out there, locations that didn't make sense, and beings that dwelled at their edges. And the default poise of the guardians of this world, the Plumbers and the Electricians and the Carpenters and Masons, was to beat them back into the darkness. To seal them beyond the gates, to prevent them from entering the light, when there was plenty of room under the sun for any who could endure it.</p> <p>He could promise them a better future.</p> <hr/> <p>Cole infers what happens to him next after he wakes:</p> <p>The Cyberserkers of the Silicon Nornir seize Cole's corpse, steal his pathetically outmoded guns — who uses lead when lasers are available? — and bring him before the Nornir for forensic analysis.</p> <p>The Interface Room is sleek silver. It would be too dangerous, and completely unnecessary, to bring a Foundation corpse before the Silicon Nornir themselves.</p> <p>The nanoprobes will be more than enough to extract intelligence from the fallen Foundation representative.</p> <p>Cole jerks awake.</p> <p>He knows the Nornir probably anticipated something similar to this, but not exactly like this. Immortal or resurrecting Foundation doctors are nothing new. The trick is determining the nature of their immortality. And he's not going to give up his secrets.</p> <p>Cole, for his part, seems rather pleased.</p> <p>"I wasn't expecting to get an audience this way, but it's good enough for me. Now, why don't you tell me about yourselves?" he says to no one in particular, expecting the Nornir to hear and respond.</p> <p>They do not. He supposes it's rather foolish of him.</p> <p>The Nornir, after all, are not true gods. They're supercomputers — great and alien intelligences that connect things in unintuitive ways. A deitic intelligence is often similar, of course — when you interact with a god, you're not interacting with the whole entirety of that god's power in one place at the same time. So much power would probably burn most humans to a crisp. You're interacting with a tiny sliver of a god's power, shoved through the lens of your cultural expectations, warped in a way you can understand.</p> <p>But it's odd, really, how often the GOC and Foundation employees he's talked to think of the Nornir as actual beings instead of a tripartite supercomputer.</p> <p>Lights pulse, silver droplets flowing through fiber optic. A distant bass hum punctuated by beeps, the occasional high pitched whine of spinning discs.</p> <p>Why is he here?</p> <p>They must want his system — his proprietary method of negotiating with anomalies, no matter where they come from. Cryptid, Deitic, Time Displaced, Bestial, and the kitchen sink/generalized sentience. It's brought him great success in the past. The Silicon Nornir must want his methods, so they can connect to other beings more easily and bring them into the fold of the GOC.</p> <p>He can't allow that.</p> <p>They've taken his guns. Without Candor and Connection, Communication is impossible. Only trickery and force remain.</p> <hr/> <p>Cole's never used a computer before, but of course he's first in line when his university gets one.</p> <p>These are the machines of the future, after all. A computer is a way of connecting to human beings across the world, speaking to them, getting to share experiences. In the future, computers might even be able to translate between languages, removing one of the last barriers between the unity of all mankind. If computers are common by the year 2000, there's a very real chance that they will usher in an era of world peace.</p> <p>When his 30 minute time slot begins, he's sure he doesn't want to waste a single minute of it.</p> <p>He finds a "language and cultural exchange" Usenet group. He can't wait to introduce himself.</p> <p>"Hi. I'm Cole Thereven, 23, University of Manitoba. Studying for my PhD in Psychology. I am very glad to have a chance to talk to people from all across the world."</p> <p>The instant he hits enter, a response pops up.</p> <p>PSYCHOLOGY??????????????? ???????? ???????? ?????????????? ??????????????? ?? ?????????? ??????????????? ??????????? ?????? ????????? ????????? ???????!?? NEWSFLASH BUDDY YOU NEVER MET A REAL PSYCHO LIKE ME. THE ONLY LANGUAGE I SPEAK IS AMERICAN AND KICKING ASS. KIDS TODAY NEED THEIR VACCINES, PARTICIPATION AWARDS, AND STAR BUCKS BEFORE THEY CAN GET GOING. ME? I WAKE UP, BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THE FIRST GREMLIN THAT TRIES TO TEST ME, AND IM READY TO GO. FIGURE IT OUT.</p> <p>—HOGSLICE</p> <p>Cole's a little surprised at how fast this seems to work, but he's really quite interested in what this fine fellow is saying. He's especially interested in this "star bucks" — might it be some way of sending money over the internet, or could it be a fascinating pagan religion?</p> <p>"That's interesting, Hogslice. Are you a martial artist? I did Tae Kwon Do when I was in elementary school. My teacher always talked to us about the importance of discipline and respecting your opponent."</p> <p>The instant he responds, HOGSLICE replies.</p> <p>THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT BRO. YOU DON'T NEED TO RESPECT YOUR OPPONENT YOU JUST NEED TO WIN. WINNING IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. DONKEY PUNCHES, GOING FOR THE EYES, POCKET SAND. YOU USE IT OR YOU LOSE IT AND I NEVER FUCKING LOSE. THE ONLY DISCIPLINE I NEED IS THE DISCIPLINE TO CURL MY FIST. HONOR IS FOR PUSSIES.</p> <p>—HOGSLICE</p> <p>It's 1999, and the concept of the internet troll is not yet common.</p> <p>"How can you say that?" Cole types, furiously, his heart palpitating. "How can you be like this? Doesn't it hurt you when you hurt other people? Do you really believe this?"</p> <p>ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR? ARE YOU MOCKING ME?</p> <p>—HOGSLICE</p> <p>"I just"</p> <p>Cole pauses, not sure how he intends to finish his sentence. His hands shaking with adrenaline, he types the next phrase carefully, watching the keyboard closely to type every letter.</p> <p>"I just don't believe you're like this for real."</p> <p>OH, I'LL SHOW YOU HOW REAL I AM. IT'S ON.</p> <p>—HOGSLICE</p> <p>Cole frowned, wondering what anyone could do to him over the internet. He gets his answer when a hand grabs him by the hair and smashes his face into the university's computer.</p> <p>He groans in surprise, though that quickly becomes groans of pain.</p> <p>In between his impromptu bouts of facial reconstruction surgery, he catches a glimpse of his assailant. To his surprise, it looks like he's being beaten to death by professional wrestler Scott Steiner.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="SLICE.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6599/SLICE.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>The man himself.</p> </div> </div> <p>The glass of the computer shatters; the machine silences with an electronic pop. "HOGSLICE" proceeds to smash Cole's face into the desk, the wall, and his other fist, in no particular order, multiple times apiece. Soon, Cole knows no more.</p> <p>He is in a place that is not a place; a place that is endless void with streams of swirling fate and blood. Before his eyes, he dreams of himself. He sees a green mushroom that he had seen before only in a dream</p> <p>Behind it, in the middle distance, is an image of his face, floating in the void, and next to it is a burning numeral: XIII. Before his eyes, it ticks down: XII.</p> <p>In the distance there is a steady beep. It is not the annoying drone of an alarm clock, but something more soothing. Rhythmic. Ominous.</p> <p>He turns and exits the unplace, and awakens in a hospital bed.</p> <p>The attending nurse's eyes open, and she seems to cry tears of joy, and she calls her colleagues. That he's awakened is miraculous. He's escaped from beyond the reign of death.</p> <hr/> <p>There are some people who only speak the language of violence. Cole learned that lesson the hard way.</p> <p>EURTEC is under extreme GOC control. It's a GOC project for human development, under the eye of the Silicon Nornir.</p> <p>The Department of Anomalous Relations and Communications is roughly under the various diplomatic functions of the Foundation, and Cole's rather proud he's managed to keep it independent. The relationships between the Foundation and GOC are governed by an ever-increasingly complex network of treaties and agreements, starting with the Koln Agreement in the 1940s, with the addition of the House Accords and the Cartegena Agreement sometime in the adjoining period, among others. Cole was hoping his presence here could be leveraged into a nice, shiny diplomatic agreement with his name on it — the Thereven Compact, or something like it — but alas, the whole thing had been a trap.</p> <p>Now he sits beneath the watchful machine-eyes of the Silicon Nornir.</p> <p>They're silent.</p> <p>Cole's familiar with the silent treatment. His wife started doing it to him once their daughter fell ill. He's also learned not to be the first one to talk.</p> <p>But he's familiar with machine intelligences, as well as deitic ones. Gods have patience on the span of centuries; machines experience millennia in second. The two concepts are in opposition, yet Cole is willing to bet that in the balance, the Nornir will be more patient than he is.</p> <p>They can take his guns, but they can't take his knowledge. Without Candor and Connection, Cole must rely instead on Deception and Rejection.</p> <p>He takes in a deep, deep breath. He hates doing this, though he doesn't like to use the word hate because of its negative connotations and its role as a barrier to further communication.</p> <p>His fingers shudder as he curls them. He relaxes them, letting them go limp for just a second — but he has no other choice.</p> <p>Slowly, slowly, his fingers close. Then his thumb goes over them. His eyes water from shame.</p> <p>Now he wields his bare fists — Deception, his left. Rejection, his right.</p> <p>He hates it — but Thereven the diplomat must cease. Thereven the warrior must awaken to fight the GOC.</p> <hr/> <p>Cole shades his eyes and resists the urge to scratch his ears to pull out his earplugs.</p> <p>In the distance, he can see Dolores King Memorial Belltower. If he were to approach, he knows he would hear a gaudy bodily of one of the movements of Vivaldi's Four Seasons.</p> <p>The containment ritualists besides him are fretting, eyeing him askance.</p> <p>"Frankly, kid," says one of them, a stern woman named Rossellini, "You sure you don't want me to call Regional Command? See if we can get you reassigned? You see a bit out of place here."</p> <p>Cole shakes his head. "I asked for this, and I'm going to see it through. My momma didn't raise a quitter."</p> <p>"But—why?"</p> <p>He's not sure he can answer her. He's listened to the the redacted versions of 6447's music, had some contacts of his run them through signal processing and cryptography, thought about it for quite some time — and he's convinced that 6447 is saying something more than it seems.</p> <p>"Mister Thereven," Rossellini started.</p> <p>"Doctor."</p> <p>"Doctor—wow, really? Doctor? So young?" Rossellini says. "Doctor Thereven. I've been working with 6447 for quite some time, and it's an incredibly delicate system in contrabalance. The weather is tied to the music. We've lost hundreds to it over the years, and once you're part of it, you cannot die. It won't let you."</p> <p>"Hey now," Cole says. "You're not that much older than I am!"</p> <p>The truth was, Cole wants to be here because everything else that could be called a god was under strict lockdown. The Foundation keeps strict tabs on any deitic beings in custody, precisely because if they were to run amuck, it could have devastating effects on reality. 6447 is barely said to be in custody, however. It's hardly under control. But it fits his criteria. It's an Emergent Eschatological Entity. And if he can figure out what makes it tick, he can solve a problem. Help the world. Make his parents proud of him.</p> <p>He can tell Rosellini isn't going to be of much help.</p> <p>When night falls, he sneaks out of the Foundation camp and approaches the Dolores King Memorial Belltower on foot. He brings his trusty speak and spell with him, so he can take extensive notes.</p> <p>The music vibrates through his bones even though his earplugs are in. No normal human beings should be able to make such loud noises with their own bodies. It would scare him. But he needs to know.</p> <p>He sees them. They don't stop him from walking among them. They don't notice him at all. They simply keep playing the music.</p> <p>Their throats are bare. It makes no sense that they can sing at all. And they exude the substance, R-447. He's careful not to touch it, but he knows it's only poisonous if ingested, and even then it can be eaten in safe doses if diluted far enough. But a part of him feels like a voyeur, among all of these people focusing on their art, yet unable to engage.</p> <p>He knows he won't get anything from them if he just tries to talk.</p> <p>So instead he starts to clap. There's a place in the song for a percussion line. Not quite traditional for Vivaldi — he can't make a cymbal sound with his bare hands — but it'll have to do. And anyways body percussion and voice was never meant for Vivaldi in the first place.</p> <p>He gives himself to the music.</p> <p>His hands are drumsticks. His thighs marimbas. His voice both trumpet and violin.</p> <p>He doesn't know how long he's there.</p> <p>One eternity blurs into another.</p> <p>The music gives way to darkness. A sense of falling, and then cold.</p> <p>The fire ticks down.</p> <p>When he awakens, he's been recovered by a Foundation team and is in Site-12, convalescing.</p> <p>They don't know how he survived any of it. He's just glad he did.</p> <p>He's upset to learn they've taken him off of the 6447 project, though.</p> <hr/> <p>Cole unclenches his fists.</p> <p>He won't get anywhere by punching with them. It was mostly symbolic to clench them anyways, to represent him embracing Deception and Rejection.</p> <p>"I am now about to speak a lethal cognitohazard, that I personally have been immunized against," he says, enunciating loudly and clearly. "I do not expect this to be of any harm to the Nornir. However, the mechanism of action for this cognitohazard is to cause overheating via neural agitation. I don't know the first thing about how computer brains work, but I bet they don't like being hot any more than meat brains do."</p> <p>There's no response. The lights of the computer banks hum as usual. If he's been heard, he's not being listened to, which is always hurtful for communication. Cole would go so far as to say that it sucks.</p> <p>He walks over to the door and pushes on it. It's locked, as expected, but the locking mechanism is electronic. He suspects it's like a distant limb or a skin tag to the Nornir, in that if he had a way to break through it normally they would usually not take notice, but since he's drawn their attention, he can pull a con.</p> <p>They searched him, yes, but they can't take away all of his knowledge and his magic.</p> <p>"Sussamogus Vent," he stage whispers at the lock. It's a nonsense word, a homage to his beloved daughter Lisa's favorite video game. It's an added bonus that the GOC's thaumatologists and linguists will waste upwards of 20 hours trying to figure out the nature of the "spell" he used.</p> <p>Simultaneously, he performs a very complicated set of hand twitches that took him a very long time to learn, which superheat the locks of the door, melting them. He does it again to the other side. When he sees red-hot liquid metal dripping out the side, he gives it one great kick.</p> <p>The door falls flat outside with a great clang.</p> <p>"There's more where that came from," he says.</p> <p>And now, to escape from Eurtec.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Cole Thereven will return in:</p> <h3 id="toc1"><span>THEREVEN: PROLONGATION</span></h3> </div> <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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Staar Cuttt 2 5</a></td> <td>Rating: 45</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-wandsman-in-the-greaze-lands-of-kansas">A Wandsman In The Greaze Lands Of Kansas</a></td> <td>Rating: 43</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-166">SPC-166: CERISE CERES</a></td> <td>Rating: 42</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-1548">SPC-1548</a></td> <td>Rating: 39</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-cn-985">SPC-CN-985: FIST CONTACT</a></td> <td>Rating: 32</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:120%;">Hubs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/goldbaker-reinz-hub">Goldbaker-Reinz Hub</a></td> <td>Rating: 108</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/april-fools-hub">April Fools Hub</a></td> <td>Rating: 51</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/qui-lactis">NIGHTFALL: Qui Lactis</a></td> <td>Rating: 40</td> </tr> </table> </div> <h2 id="toc2"><span>Collaborations!</span></h2> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="3"><span style="font-size:120%;">SCPs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th>Page</th> <th>Title</th> <th>Co-Author</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6301">SCP-6301</a></td> <td>Funky Finn's Children Happy Hour</td> <td><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=1730032452" 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>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gremlingroup" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5287352); return false;"><img alt="GremlinGroup" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5287352&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5287352)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gremlingroup" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5287352); return false;">GremlinGroup</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6447">SCP-6447</a></td> <td>Sinners' Symphony</td> <td>Many.</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6483">SCP-6483</a></td> <td>The Polar Express</td> <td><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=1730032452" 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></td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6542">SCP-6542</a></td> <td>Virgin Dairy 2: SECOND CHURNING</td> <td><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=1730032452" 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></td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6596">SCP-6596</a></td> <td>8 Mile: The Beast of Lust and Hatred Born</td> <td><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=1730032452" 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></td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6760">SCP-6760</a></td> <td>Better Luck Next Time</td> <td><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=1730032452" 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></td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="3"><span style="font-size:120%;">Tales</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="2">Page</th> <th>Co-Author</th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><a href="/a-nightmare-dreary">A Nightmare Dreary</a></td> <td><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dododevil" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1854139); return false;"><img alt="DodoDevil" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1854139&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1854139)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dododevil" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1854139); return false;">DodoDevil</a></span>, <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=1730032452" 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>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lan-2d" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5241510); return false;"><img alt="LAN 2D" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5241510&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5241510)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lan-2d" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5241510); return false;">LAN 2D</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/impperatrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7191955); return false;"><img alt="Impperatrix" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7191955&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7191955)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/impperatrix" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7191955); return false;">Impperatrix</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><a href="/the-bathrooms-wiki">The Bathrooms Wiki</a></td> <td><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><strong>THE YURT</strong></span></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="3"><span style="font-size:120%;">Hubs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <th colspan="2">Page</th> <th>Co-Author</th> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><a href="/spc-hub">SPC Hub</a></td> <td><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mrwrong" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2039383); return false;"><img alt="MrWrong" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2039383&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2039383)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mrwrong" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2039383); return false;">MrWrong</a></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=1730032452" 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>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/peppersghost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1553042); return false;"><img alt="PeppersGhost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1553042&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1553042)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/peppersghost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1553042); return false;">PeppersGhost</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="2"><a href="/holiday-hub">Holiday Hub</a></td> <td><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/deadly-bread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3988532); return false;"><img alt="Deadly Bread" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3988532&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3988532)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/deadly-bread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3988532); return false;">Deadly Bread</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/peppersghost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1553042); return false;"><img alt="PeppersGhost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1553042&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1553042)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/peppersghost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1553042); return false;">PeppersGhost</a></span>, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/theboxoffun" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5348991); return false;"><img alt="TheBoxOfFun" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5348991&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032452" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5348991)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/theboxoffun" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5348991); return false;">TheBoxOfFun</a></span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Hide</a></div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a> fade=a]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[module CSS]] :root{ --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "Anomalous Communications and Relations"; } div#extra-div-1 { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme:calibri-logos/scp%20dado); filter: opacity(50%); } [[/module]] [[=]] + THEREVEN: GERMINATION [[/=]] Director Cole Thereven slams into a Eurtec alley wall, his twin pistols slippery with sweat. The neon purple and blue lights of Eurtec disorient him; he can't tell if his pursuers are still rushing towards him in the distance. This assignment had seemed so simple -- the Foundation Eurtech diplomatic team had requested his presence for a highly delicate arrangement, given the past successes of the Department of Anomalous Communications and Relations in dealing with extreme deviant psychologies. And he'd charmed the Eurtec underworld delegation for long enough, and the progress was going fine, and it seemed like it would be another great success for Thereven and DACR -- but then he'd accidentally chained together a series of kill words, and the Eurtec cops' cybernetic kill implants had activated, and he'd barely escaped with his life. (did it even make sense for Eurtec to have an underworld, wondered Cole Thereven. The Silicon Nornir were the weavers of fate, a hybrid between deitic and machine intelligences, running the city in the name of the Global Occult Coalition, the Foundation's sole rival for the fate of the world. He'd hoped to have a chance to speak with them while he was here, but that seemed out of the question now. But why would they allow crime in their perfect city?) The rain hammers his head. His breath is heavy, but he has no chance to rest. They'll be upon him soon. He kisses his guns -- Candor and Connection -- and hurries deeper into the alleyway. To his dismay, it ends in a chain link fence, and he can't climb it with this much rain and with guns in hand. The alleyway lights up with strobing red. They've caught him. But Cole isn't one to give up. He swivels around, shooting wildly as he does so. And he falls, gracefully, in a rain of their plasma bullets. And so Cole Thereven dies. Again. ------ Cole Thereven was always destined to meet the mysteries of the universe face-to-face. When Cole was a child, his family took a trip to Japan. Japan, of course, is famously racist and xenophobic, especially against other Asians, and Cole just so happened to be Filipino. So while the Thereven family was able to enjoy the benefits of tourism in Japan, the endless food, the shopping, the ancient shrines and high tech cities, being there was a sad and constant reminder that the technological paradise of glorious Nihon was for other people. Cole wasn't satisfied by this, even then. On the final day of their vacation, he snuck away from his parents to see what the real Japan was like. He passed by a Japanese elementary school and spied some kids some age. He was always a gregarious and friendly child, and while this worked very well in his quaint midwestern homeland of Wisconsin, it served him less well here. He said hi to the Japanese schoolchildren, and they responded in Japanese, which he did not speak. They grew ever more derisive and he responded in more and more panicked English, which ended with him being shoved into a sewer. This could have been the end of Cole Thereven, there and then, but even at such a young age Cole was resilient, persevering, and unwilling to give up. On sight alone, he followed the sewer along the walls, facing the wind, hoping to find a way out. Every step he took seemed to bring him deeper into the darkness, but he refused to let that stop him. And then he reached a set of stairs. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6807/stairs.png\|width=100%\|align=center\|caption=The Stairs.]] He began to climb. There was a faint hum in the distance, the sound of the wind or perhaps the city above. As he climbed, that sound seemed to get louder and higher. He wondered, with every step, if his parents missed him, and if his family worried for him. He felt bad to worry them, of course, and mad that his sense of adventure had landed him in such water. Most of all, he missed them, and his tummy was starting to hurt. There were mushrooms on the side of the stairs, bright green, and they smelled like candy, so he ate some even though they were glowing. They didn't look like poisonous red mushrooms, so he thought he was safe. And in any case he knew that if he didn't eat, he would die anyways. The mushrooms gave him strength to keep climbing, filling him with an endless vigor. He kept following the stairs upwards. The higher and higher he went, the higher the hum grew. He felt confident he was going the right way. But the higher he went, the harder it became to keep going, and the more he stopped to eat the green mushrooms, but not the red ones. He wondered how he hadn't made it back to the surface yet. He hadn't fallen that far when the bullies had shoved him into the drain. Surely he would have reached the surface hours and hours ago. But still he kept climbing. The stairs kept going up, and the noise kept getting louder, so it made sense, didn't it? But as he took another step upwards, he saw a great big twisted claw -- and a great big clawed flipper, reaching for his head, and he stumbled backwards and fell, and thought he would be falling to his death, tumbling down hundreds upon hundreds of flights of stairs -- but he crashed to the ground after only one flight of stairs, and he saw, atop that single flight, a dark and looming shadow, staring at him with bright red eyes, and he knew his death was come-- But then a figure, clad in blue overalls and a rusty brown t-shirt, jumped past him towards the stairs, wielding a wrench in one hand, reaching into a utility belt with the other. From that utility belt the figure pulled a welding torch, and brandished it at the shadow atop the stairs. The foul demon of the stairs roared in agony and stepped upwards into nothingness, fading from sight, and as if to dismiss it for good the noble warrior jumped towards the darkness and jumped on its head. It roared in agony, falling to its belly as it faded into the distant darkness. The valiant warrior came to Cole, and to his mortification he began to cry. He was tired and lost and had had a very stressful day. "I want my mommy!" The man said, in slightly accented English. "Hey. Hey, it's ok, little boy. Are you lost?" Slowly, Cole nodded. He knew talking to strangers was dangerous, but it wasn't like this day could get any worse. "It's alright now. I'll get you out of here and to your parents. You can trust me. I'm a Plumber." Cole knew that Plumbers were usually pretty good at fixing pipes and toilets, so this made him feel better. He pointed at the stairs, which looked like a normal pair of stairs again. "What was that?" The Plumber looked at the stairs with a troubled look upon his face. "Something me and my friends have spent a very long time dealing with," he said soberly. "You're lucky I came here when I did -- that's a very dangerous set of stairs you found yourself on." "I meant the turtle," Cole said. "Some things are too dangerous to know about," the Plumber said, his bushy mustache twisting with his frown. But Cole didn't believe that. He'd heard the roars of the demon as it was driven away, and a part of him had felt a kindred spirit with the beast. It hadn't sounded angry, or hungry, or mad. It had sounded lonely, the keening of a wounded beast, trying to find others of its kind but repelled from this reality by guardians who didn't know better. The Plumber led Cole out of the sewers, and by nightfall he had been reunited with his parents. But that encounter stuck with him. There were places out there, locations that didn't make sense, and beings that dwelled at their edges. And the default poise of the guardians of this world, the Plumbers and the Electricians and the Carpenters and Masons, was to beat them back into the darkness. To seal them beyond the gates, to prevent them from entering the light, when there was plenty of room under the sun for any who could endure it. He could promise them a better future. ------ Cole infers what happens to him next after he wakes: The Cyberserkers of the Silicon Nornir seize Cole's corpse, steal his pathetically outmoded guns -- who uses lead when lasers are available? -- and bring him before the Nornir for forensic analysis. The Interface Room is sleek silver. It would be too dangerous, and completely unnecessary, to bring a Foundation corpse before the Silicon Nornir themselves. The nanoprobes will be more than enough to extract intelligence from the fallen Foundation representative. Cole jerks awake. He knows the Nornir probably anticipated something similar to this, but not exactly like this. Immortal or resurrecting Foundation doctors are nothing new. The trick is determining the nature of their immortality. And he's not going to give up his secrets. Cole, for his part, seems rather pleased. "I wasn't expecting to get an audience this way, but it's good enough for me. Now, why don't you tell me about yourselves?" he says to no one in particular, expecting the Nornir to hear and respond. They do not. He supposes it's rather foolish of him. The Nornir, after all, are not true gods. They're supercomputers -- great and alien intelligences that connect things in unintuitive ways. A deitic intelligence is often similar, of course -- when you interact with a god, you're not interacting with the whole entirety of that god's power in one place at the same time. So much power would probably burn most humans to a crisp. You're interacting with a tiny sliver of a god's power, shoved through the lens of your cultural expectations, warped in a way you can understand. But it's odd, really, how often the GOC and Foundation employees he's talked to think of the Nornir as actual beings instead of a tripartite supercomputer. Lights pulse, silver droplets flowing through fiber optic. A distant bass hum punctuated by beeps, the occasional high pitched whine of spinning discs. Why is he here? They must want his system -- his proprietary method of negotiating with anomalies, no matter where they come from. Cryptid, Deitic, Time Displaced, Bestial, and the kitchen sink/generalized sentience. It's brought him great success in the past. The Silicon Nornir must want his methods, so they can connect to other beings more easily and bring them into the fold of the GOC. He can't allow that. They've taken his guns. Without Candor and Connection, Communication is impossible. Only trickery and force remain. ------ Cole's never used a computer before, but of course he's first in line when his university gets one. These are the machines of the future, after all. A computer is a way of connecting to human beings across the world, speaking to them, getting to share experiences. In the future, computers might even be able to translate between languages, removing one of the last barriers between the unity of all mankind. If computers are common by the year 2000, there's a very real chance that they will usher in an era of world peace. When his 30 minute time slot begins, he's sure he doesn't want to waste a single minute of it. He finds a "language and cultural exchange" Usenet group. He can't wait to introduce himself. "Hi. I'm Cole Thereven, 23, University of Manitoba. Studying for my PhD in Psychology. I am very glad to have a chance to talk to people from all across the world." The instant he hits enter, a response pops up. PSYCHOLOGY??????????????? ???????? ???????? ?????????????? ??????????????? ?? ?????????? ??????????????? ??????????? ?????? ????????? ????????? ???????!?? NEWSFLASH BUDDY YOU NEVER MET A REAL PSYCHO LIKE ME. THE ONLY LANGUAGE I SPEAK IS AMERICAN AND KICKING ASS. KIDS TODAY NEED THEIR VACCINES, PARTICIPATION AWARDS, AND STAR BUCKS BEFORE THEY CAN GET GOING. ME? I WAKE UP, BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THE FIRST GREMLIN THAT TRIES TO TEST ME, AND IM READY TO GO. FIGURE IT OUT. --HOGSLICE Cole's a little surprised at how fast this seems to work, but he's really quite interested in what this fine fellow is saying. He's especially interested in this "star bucks" -- might it be some way of sending money over the internet, or could it be a fascinating pagan religion? "That's interesting, Hogslice. Are you a martial artist? I did Tae Kwon Do when I was in elementary school. My teacher always talked to us about the importance of discipline and respecting your opponent." The instant he responds, HOGSLICE replies. THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT BRO. YOU DON'T NEED TO RESPECT YOUR OPPONENT YOU JUST NEED TO WIN. WINNING IS THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS. DONKEY PUNCHES, GOING FOR THE EYES, POCKET SAND. YOU USE IT OR YOU LOSE IT AND I NEVER FUCKING LOSE. THE ONLY DISCIPLINE I NEED IS THE DISCIPLINE TO CURL MY FIST. HONOR IS FOR PUSSIES. --HOGSLICE It's 1999, and the concept of the internet troll is not yet common. "How can you say that?" Cole types, furiously, his heart palpitating. "How can you be like this? Doesn't it hurt you when you hurt other people? Do you really believe this?" ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR? ARE YOU MOCKING ME? --HOGSLICE "I just" Cole pauses, not sure how he intends to finish his sentence. His hands shaking with adrenaline, he types the next phrase carefully, watching the keyboard closely to type every letter. "I just don't believe you're like this for real." OH, I'LL SHOW YOU HOW REAL I AM. IT'S ON. --HOGSLICE Cole frowned, wondering what anyone could do to him over the internet. He gets his answer when a hand grabs him by the hair and smashes his face into the university's computer. He groans in surprise, though that quickly becomes groans of pain. In between his impromptu bouts of facial reconstruction surgery, he catches a glimpse of his assailant. To his surprise, it looks like he's being beaten to death by professional wrestler Scott Steiner. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6599/SLICE.png\|align=center\|width=100%\|caption=The man himself.]] The glass of the computer shatters; the machine silences with an electronic pop. "HOGSLICE" proceeds to smash Cole's face into the desk, the wall, and his other fist, in no particular order, multiple times apiece. Soon, Cole knows no more. He is in a place that is not a place; a place that is endless void with streams of swirling fate and blood. Before his eyes, he dreams of himself. He sees a green mushroom that he had seen before only in a dream Behind it, in the middle distance, is an image of his face, floating in the void, and next to it is a burning numeral: XIII. Before his eyes, it ticks down: XII. In the distance there is a steady beep. It is not the annoying drone of an alarm clock, but something more soothing. Rhythmic. Ominous. He turns and exits the unplace, and awakens in a hospital bed. The attending nurse's eyes open, and she seems to cry tears of joy, and she calls her colleagues. That he's awakened is miraculous. He's escaped from beyond the reign of death. ------ There are some people who only speak the language of violence. Cole learned that lesson the hard way. EURTEC is under extreme GOC control. It's a GOC project for human development, under the eye of the Silicon Nornir. The Department of Anomalous Relations and Communications is roughly under the various diplomatic functions of the Foundation, and Cole's rather proud he's managed to keep it independent. The relationships between the Foundation and GOC are governed by an ever-increasingly complex network of treaties and agreements, starting with the Koln Agreement in the 1940s, with the addition of the House Accords and the Cartegena Agreement sometime in the adjoining period, among others. Cole was hoping his presence here could be leveraged into a nice, shiny diplomatic agreement with his name on it -- the Thereven Compact, or something like it -- but alas, the whole thing had been a trap. Now he sits beneath the watchful machine-eyes of the Silicon Nornir. They're silent. Cole's familiar with the silent treatment. His wife started doing it to him once their daughter fell ill. He's also learned not to be the first one to talk. But he's familiar with machine intelligences, as well as deitic ones. Gods have patience on the span of centuries; machines experience millennia in second. The two concepts are in opposition, yet Cole is willing to bet that in the balance, the Nornir will be more patient than he is. They can take his guns, but they can't take his knowledge. Without Candor and Connection, Cole must rely instead on Deception and Rejection. He takes in a deep, deep breath. He hates doing this, though he doesn't like to use the word hate because of its negative connotations and its role as a barrier to further communication. His fingers shudder as he curls them. He relaxes them, letting them go limp for just a second -- but he has no other choice. Slowly, slowly, his fingers close. Then his thumb goes over them. His eyes water from shame. Now he wields his bare fists -- Deception, his left. Rejection, his right. He hates it -- but Thereven the diplomat must cease. Thereven the warrior must awaken to fight the GOC. ------ Cole shades his eyes and resists the urge to scratch his ears to pull out his earplugs. In the distance, he can see Dolores King Memorial Belltower. If he were to approach, he knows he would hear a gaudy bodily of one of the movements of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. The containment ritualists besides him are fretting, eyeing him askance. "Frankly, kid," says one of them, a stern woman named Rossellini, "You sure you don't want me to call Regional Command? See if we can get you reassigned? You see a bit out of place here." Cole shakes his head. "I asked for this, and I'm going to see it through. My momma didn't raise a quitter." "But--why?" He's not sure he can answer her. He's listened to the the redacted versions of 6447's music, had some contacts of his run them through signal processing and cryptography, thought about it for quite some time -- and he's convinced that 6447 is saying something more than it seems. "Mister Thereven," Rossellini started. "Doctor." "Doctor--wow, really? Doctor? So young?" Rossellini says. "Doctor Thereven. I've been working with 6447 for quite some time, and it's an incredibly delicate system in contrabalance. The weather is tied to the music. We've lost hundreds to it over the years, and once you're part of it, you cannot die. It won't let you." "Hey now," Cole says. "You're not that much older than I am!" The truth was, Cole wants to be here because everything else that could be called a god was under strict lockdown. The Foundation keeps strict tabs on any deitic beings in custody, precisely because if they were to run amuck, it could have devastating effects on reality. 6447 is barely said to be in custody, however. It's hardly under control. But it fits his criteria. It's an Emergent Eschatological Entity. And if he can figure out what makes it tick, he can solve a problem. Help the world. Make his parents proud of him. He can tell Rosellini isn't going to be of much help. When night falls, he sneaks out of the Foundation camp and approaches the Dolores King Memorial Belltower on foot. He brings his trusty speak and spell with him, so he can take extensive notes. [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6447/dolores-king-memorial.png width="50%"]] The music vibrates through his bones even though his earplugs are in. No normal human beings should be able to make such loud noises with their own bodies. It would scare him. But he needs to know. He sees them. They don't stop him from walking among them. They don't notice him at all. They simply keep playing the music. Their throats are bare. It makes no sense that they can sing at all. And they exude the substance, R-447. He's careful not to touch it, but he knows it's only poisonous if ingested, and even then it can be eaten in safe doses if diluted far enough. But a part of him feels like a voyeur, among all of these people focusing on their art, yet unable to engage. He knows he won't get anything from them if he just tries to talk. So instead he starts to clap. There's a place in the song for a percussion line. Not quite traditional for Vivaldi -- he can't make a cymbal sound with his bare hands -- but it'll have to do. And anyways body percussion and voice was never meant for Vivaldi in the first place. He gives himself to the music. His hands are drumsticks. His thighs marimbas. His voice both trumpet and violin. He doesn't know how long he's there. One eternity blurs into another. The music gives way to darkness. A sense of falling, and then cold. The fire ticks down. When he awakens, he's been recovered by a Foundation team and is in Site-12, convalescing. They don't know how he survived any of it. He's just glad he did. He's upset to learn they've taken him off of the 6447 project, though. ------ Cole unclenches his fists. He won't get anywhere by punching with them. It was mostly symbolic to clench them anyways, to represent him embracing Deception and Rejection. "I am now about to speak a lethal cognitohazard, that I personally have been immunized against," he says, enunciating loudly and clearly. "I do not expect this to be of any harm to the Nornir. However, the mechanism of action for this cognitohazard is to cause overheating via neural agitation. I don't know the first thing about how computer brains work, but I bet they don't like being hot any more than meat brains do." There's no response. The lights of the computer banks hum as usual. If he's been heard, he's not being listened to, which is always hurtful for communication. Cole would go so far as to say that it sucks. He walks over to the door and pushes on it. It's locked, as expected, but the locking mechanism is electronic. He suspects it's like a distant limb or a skin tag to the Nornir, in that if he had a way to break through it normally they would usually not take notice, but since he's drawn their attention, he can pull a con. They searched him, yes, but they can't take away all of his knowledge and his magic. "Sussamogus Vent," he stage whispers at the lock. It's a nonsense word, a homage to his beloved daughter Lisa's favorite video game. It's an added bonus that the GOC's thaumatologists and linguists will waste upwards of 20 hours trying to figure out the nature of the "spell" he used. Simultaneously, he performs a very complicated set of hand twitches that took him a very long time to learn, which superheat the locks of the door, melting them. He does it again to the other side. When he sees red-hot liquid metal dripping out the side, he gives it one great kick. The door falls flat outside with a great clang. "There's more where that came from," he says. And now, to escape from Eurtec. ------ [[=]] Cole Thereven will return in: +++ THEREVEN: PROLONGATION [[/=]] [[include <a href="/more-by:lordxvnv">more-by:lordxvnv</a>]]	2023-05-02T03:21:00	[ "_cc", "action", "art-exchange", "chase", "doctor-thereven", "global-occult-coalition", "hogslice", "science-fiction", "tale" ]	THEREVEN: GERMINATION - SCP Foundation	28	[ "lordxvnv", "scp-6987", "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", "taking-the-reinz", "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", "deusvolt", "spc-6500", "spc-1981", "spc-105", "spc-179", "spc-1258", "hist-327-comparative-mythology-of-mekhanism-and-naelkae", "project-proposal-2007-012", "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" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-7-tales-edition", "qui-lactis", "goc-hub-page", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6807/stairs.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-6599/SLICE.png" ]	1447597524	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/thereven-germination
therion-devours	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Coldest_Asshole.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/therion-devours/Coldest_Asshole.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>777</p> </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;"><img alt="Coldest_Asshole.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/therion-devours/Coldest_Asshole.jpg"/> <h2 id="toc0"><span>The Disposal of Babalon</span></h2> <hr/> <h3 id="toc1"><span>Author:</span></h3> <p><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;"><img alt="Fantem" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1391641&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043677" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1391641)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;">Fantem</a></span></p> <h3 id="toc2"><span>Illustrator:</span></h3> <p><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/opossumistic" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8279973); return false;"><img alt="Opossumistic" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8279973&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043677" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8279973)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/opossumistic" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8279973); return false;">Opossumistic</a></span></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This story contains technical transphobia/deadnaming, strong language, blasphemy, domestic abuse and violence, mental and emotional abuse, and mentions of sexual abuse and violence.</p> </div> </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><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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div style="border: solid 3px #70D8E5; background: rgba(0,0,0, 0.616); padding:10px; margin: -10px;"> <div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Therion Devours." class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/Therion-devours/Therion_Devours.png" style="width:100%;"/> <hr/> <h1 id="toc3"><span><span style="color: #70d8e5">THE DISPOSAL OF BABALON</span></span></h1> </div> <p>Therion Theleman.</p> <p>King of the 7th Circle of Inferno. Lord of Violence. Financial expert. Father. And <a href="/scp-7603">up until recently,</a> a married man.</p> <p>The infernal king regretted having to end such a wonderful party early, but he needed to tend to the remains of his permanently comatose ex-wife, and salvage her power. Additionally, it would be irresponsible considering his latest acquisition.</p> <p>Babalon’s signature weapon, Blood Rose, was capable of mass-devastation using a process where, in the right hands, would condense every demon and angel in a Circle into a harmless soul gem. Just the <strong>threat</strong> of being the only person capable of doing that was reason enough to obey.</p> <p>The only problem; the “right hands” consisted of two people. Babalon, whose hands were currently being used to make a delicious curry along with the rest of her flesh, and their child Pluto, who was ‘too much of a pussy’ to go through with it.</p> <p>If only Babalon didn’t place a cosmological patent on it. Therion would have been able to simply recreate it from scratch, or hire someone else to do so. But, no. Now he would need to go through Pluto.</p> <p>He looked at the late Queen Babalon with a satisfied smirk. “I think I had a change of heart. Maybe I should listen to you more. After all, Blood Rose <strong>is</strong> your own discovery. Go on, don’t be shy. I’m all ears.”</p> <p>The conscious, severed head of Babalon sat there on his desk, predictably unresponsive.</p> <p>“Oh, and we’ll probably have to crack down a bit on Pluto. I’m a fan of enrolling him in Boot Camp again. What do you think, dear?”</p> <p>The skull sat there, unable to tell or express to Therion what a piece of shit he was. All she could do was stew in her emotions.</p> <p>“Oh? No objections?… I’m very glad you agree, dear~” He chuckled, picking her up, tossing her up and down in his hands as he made his way to his trophy room. He could sense her anger. Her hatred. But that only gave him pleasure. “You know, I think I love you a lot more like this. Shorter than me and so much more agreeable. As a <em>good</em> wife should be.” He laughed.</p> <p>Therion's laughter quickly died when he opened the door to his study.</p> <p>It was gone.</p> <p>The locked glass case that once contained Blood Rose was empty.</p> <p>He made a dash for the house alarm and activated it. The thief was likely long gone from the manor, but the Red Dragon is under orders to report to him immediately whenever the alarm goes off. Whoever stole it would have to deal with the best merc in the business chasing them to the end of the earths.</p> <p>He ran over to Pluto’s room, and yanked open the door. “BOY, GET IN H-“ He dropped Babalon on the hard, mahagony wood floor. His eyes widened.</p> <p>He was gone. His school supplies were dumped on the floor, and his school bag was missing. He ran away. It didn’t take a genius to realize what went down.</p> <p>Pluto stole Blood Rose.</p> <p>The Red Dragon ran up to Therion, and stood at attention. <em>“Sir.”</em> he addressed.</p> <p>“Relax, birdbrain. My brat of a son just stole Babalon’s fork.” Therion groaned. “You were outside. Did you see where he went?”</p> <p>“… Yes, sir.”</p> <p>“Then, <em>find him.</em> Do whatever it takes, just don’t butcher him. He’s still useful to- hey wait… didn’t you say you were injured or some shit earlier?”</p> <p>The Red Dragon paused. "… No, sir."</p> <p>Therion squinted his eyes and stepped forward. He was nearly chest to chest with The Red Dragon as he looked up to stare at him.</p> <p>The Red Dragon's pupils shifted and broke the stare.</p> <p>"Oh, you little <strong>FUCKER!"</strong> Therion punched larger demon in the abdomen. The Red Dragon fell to his knees and grimaced as he felt his wound re-open.</p> <p>Therion sneered "You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Didn't you learn not to hide things from <em>me?</em> Absolutely fucking <em>embarrassing.</em>"</p> <p>"I- I'm… sorry."</p> <p>Therion grabbed the Red Dragon by the neck and squeezed. <em>"Do you think I WANT your apology? Do you think I'm so beneath you that I would even accept it?!"</em></p> <p>The Red Dragon's hands were by his knees, he knew better than to fight back. He only looked up and shook his head.</p> <p>"Good." Therion said as he let go. "Of course, that little bleeding heart pussy stopped to heal you, I really tried my best to raise him right but that <em>whore</em> had to fill his head with stupid ideas like that. You know what she was like."</p> <p>"Yes, sir." The Red Dragon slowly stood up slowly, he held the side of his abdomen that continued bleeding. He kept his head low and eyes averted.</p> <p>Therion smiled. "Good boy. Go and bring him back. I think I'll put out a general bounty on him as well."</p> <p>The Red Dragon's eyes widened. The mercenaries of the 7th Circle were notoriously brutal. He thought about what they would do to Pluto to capture him. What they might do to him after.</p> <p>He clenched his fist tight.</p> <p>"… I'll find him first, sir. They won't get him before me."</p> <p>"I don't really give a shit as long as the boy returns to me." Therion scoffed. "Now, please, <em>fuck off,</em> you're stinking up the place."</p> <p>The Red Dragon wanted to tell him that he only stank due to his direct order to never wash the blood off his feathers.</p> <p>Instead he simply kept quiet and nodded his head.</p> <p>“Yes sir.” he obeyed, and took off.</p> <p>Therion was alone, once more. Alone with Babalon’s skull. He picked her up, and shuddered.</p> <p>Babalon felt joy. She was laughing at him, albeit internally.</p> <p>“Shut up, <em>cunt.</em> You don’t think I’m not gonna kick his ass when I see him again?”</p> <p>Babalon didn’t stop. If anything, she was downright cackling.</p> <p>"I said <em>SHUT THE FUCK UP!"</em> Therion screamed as blue Cocytean fire erupted from his shoulders and froze his jacket solid. "Do you think you're in any position to laugh now, bitch?! I have your skull in my hands and your body being used for lunch meat! Do you honestly think you're still better than <em>me?!"</em></p> <p>Babalon's laughter roared through Therion's head. Louder than ever before. He didn't need her to speak to know what the answer was.</p> <p>He squeezed her skull hard enough that his hands trembled. If he could he would crush Babalon's skull like a hammer to a kneecap. Instead all he could do was shut his eyes and clench his jaw tight as her laughter overpowered every single thought he had.</p> <p>Therion inhaled and opened his eyes. ”… You know, I just realized. He might come back for you… Say, what was that Living World you were messing with? The one you made us invest in for your little secret project?”</p> <p>She fell emotionally silent.</p> <p>“How about we take a visit?”</p> <hr/> <p>The dark cave echoed with the sounds of footsteps and dripping stalactites as the ritual started up. The robed participants marched into the open area, and led the sacrificial lamb into the center.</p> <p>“Io Therion, Beast of Violence, and bringer of the antichrist,” the ceremony master began in Latin. “Hear our call, and accept our offering.”</p> <p>“Hear us. Hear us. Hear us,” his followers chanted, one of them approaching the sheep with an ornate dagger.</p> <p>“Accept our offering, and protect our souls as we devote them unto your service,” the leader continued as his servant raised the dagger, ready to drop it down upon the lamb. “We dedicate this tribute to you. In your name. Ame-“</p> <p>He was cut off by the sudden rift opening up, in the middle of the cave, the King of Violence himself stepping out from the opposite side, clutching the skull of a jackal-like being.</p> <p>“L-Lord Therion! All hail th-“</p> <p>“Yeah yeah yeah, hail me, whatever.” He waved his free-hand dismissively. “Look, hold onto this for me, will ya?” He said, tossing the skull into the hands of theirs priest, who fumbled the catch in his hands. “I gotta go beat my son's ass, I'll be back in like five minutes or something. See ya.”</p> <p>And just as soon as he came, he left. The only evidence of his arrival sitting in the human’s hands. There was a long silence; the only sounds that could be heard was the dripping water and the singular ‘baaa’ of the sheep they brought with them.</p> <p>It was then that one of the mortals would say the only thing that they could think to say in that moment. He doffed his hood, and cleared his throat.</p> <p>“… What the fuck?”</p> </div> <div class="papernote"> <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="/therion-devours">Therion Devours</a>" by Fantem, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/therion-devours">https://scpwiki.com/therion-devours</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> sigil2.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;"><img alt="Fantem" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1391641&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043677" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1391641)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;">Fantem</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Therion_Devours.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;"><img alt="Fantem" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1391641&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043677" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1391641)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;">Fantem</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Coldest_Asshole.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/opossumistic" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8279973); return false;"><img alt="Opossumistic" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8279973&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043677" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8279973)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/opossumistic" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8279973); return false;">Opossumistic</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/therion-devours/Coldest_Asshole.jpg \|caption=777 \|width=100% \|align=center]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/therion-devours/Coldest_Asshole.jpg]] ++ The Disposal of Babalon ---- +++ Author: [[User Fantem]] +++ Illustrator: [[User Opossumistic]] [[/=]] ---- [[=]] ⚠️ Content warning: This story contains technical transphobia/deadnaming, strong language, blasphemy, domestic abuse and violence, mental and emotional abuse, and mentions of sexual abuse and 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>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> darkmode=a\|redmode=b\|hidetitle=a]] [[module css]] :root{ --logo: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/whore-of-blood-hub/Primrose-Sigil-white-badge.png); --title: "Beast of Violence"; --subtitle: "fuck you"; /scrollbar/ --basalt-dark-element-color: 112, 187, 229; /links and highlights/ --basalt-bright-element-color: 19, 75, 106; } a:link { color: #70D8E5; } a:visited { color: #70D8E5; } a:hover { color: #70D8E5; } a:active { color: #70D8E5; } body { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/whore-of-blood-hub/HellBackgroundTherion.png); background-attachment: fixed; background-size: cover; background-blend-mode: difference; } body:before { content: ' '; position: fixed; display: block; left: 0; top: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; background-image: linear-gradient(170deg, transparent, rgb(0, 0, 0) 65%, rgb(0, 0, 0) 65%, rgb(0, 0, 0) 100%); z-index: -1; color:#EDEDED; } [[/module]] [[div style="background-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/whore-of-blood-hub/Black_Paper.jpg"); background-size: cover; background-color: black; color: white; border: 6px solid #820e06; border-style: ridge; width: 300px; margin:auto;"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/whore-of-blood-hub/button.png link="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/whore-of-blood-hub" width="100%"]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[div style="border: solid 3px #70D8E5; background: rgba(0,0,0, 0.616); padding:10px; margin: -10px;"]] [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/Therion-devours/Therion_Devours.png style="width:100%;" alt="Therion Devours."]] ---- + ##70D8E5\|THE DISPOSAL OF BABALON## [[/=]] Therion Theleman. King of the 7th Circle of Inferno. Lord of Violence. Financial expert. Father. And [[[SCP-7603\|up until recently,]]] a married man. The infernal king regretted having to end such a wonderful party early, but he needed to tend to the remains of his permanently comatose ex-wife, and salvage her power. Additionally, it would be irresponsible considering his latest acquisition. Babalon’s signature weapon, Blood Rose, was capable of mass-devastation using a process where, in the right hands, would condense every demon and angel in a Circle into a harmless soul gem. Just the threat of being the only person capable of doing that was reason enough to obey. The only problem; the “right hands” consisted of two people. Babalon, whose hands were currently being used to make a delicious curry along with the rest of her flesh, and their child Pluto, who was ‘too much of a pussy’ to go through with it. If only Babalon didn’t place a cosmological patent on it. Therion would have been able to simply recreate it from scratch, or hire someone else to do so. But, no. Now he would need to go through Pluto. He looked at the late Queen Babalon with a satisfied smirk. “I think I had a change of heart. Maybe I should listen to you more. After all, Blood Rose is your own discovery. Go on, don’t be shy. I’m all ears.” The conscious, severed head of Babalon sat there on his desk, predictably unresponsive. “Oh, and we’ll probably have to crack down a bit on Pluto. I’m a fan of enrolling him in Boot Camp again. What do you think, dear?” The skull sat there, unable to tell or express to Therion what a piece of shit he was. All she could do was stew in her emotions. “Oh? No objections?… I’m very glad you agree, dear~” He chuckled, picking her up, tossing her up and down in his hands as he made his way to his trophy room. He could sense her anger. Her hatred. But that only gave him pleasure. “You know, I think I love you a lot more like this. Shorter than me and so much more agreeable. As a //good// wife should be.” He laughed. Therion's laughter quickly died when he opened the door to his study. It was gone. The locked glass case that once contained Blood Rose was empty. He made a dash for the house alarm and activated it. The thief was likely long gone from the manor, but the Red Dragon is under orders to report to him immediately whenever the alarm goes off. Whoever stole it would have to deal with the best merc in the business chasing them to the end of the earths. He ran over to Pluto’s room, and yanked open the door. “BOY, GET IN H-“ He dropped Babalon on the hard, mahagony wood floor. His eyes widened. He was gone. His school supplies were dumped on the floor, and his school bag was missing. He ran away. It didn’t take a genius to realize what went down. Pluto stole Blood Rose. The Red Dragon ran up to Therion, and stood at attention. //“Sir.”// he addressed. “Relax, birdbrain. My brat of a son just stole Babalon’s fork.” Therion groaned. “You were outside. Did you see where he went?” “… Yes, sir.” “Then, //find him.// Do whatever it takes, just don’t butcher him. He’s still useful to- hey wait... didn’t you say you were injured or some shit earlier?” The Red Dragon paused. "... No, sir." Therion squinted his eyes and stepped forward. He was nearly chest to chest with The Red Dragon as he looked up to stare at him. The Red Dragon's pupils shifted and broke the stare. "Oh, you little FUCKER!" Therion punched larger demon in the abdomen. The Red Dragon fell to his knees and grimaced as he felt his wound re-open. Therion sneered "You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Didn't you learn not to hide things from //me?// Absolutely fucking //embarrassing.//" "I- I'm... sorry." Therion grabbed the Red Dragon by the neck and squeezed. //"Do you think I WANT your apology? Do you think I'm so beneath you that I would even accept it?!"// The Red Dragon's hands were by his knees, he knew better than to fight back. He only looked up and shook his head. "Good." Therion said as he let go. "Of course, that little bleeding heart pussy stopped to heal you, I really tried my best to raise him right but that //whore// had to fill his head with stupid ideas like that. You know what she was like." "Yes, sir." The Red Dragon slowly stood up slowly, he held the side of his abdomen that continued bleeding. He kept his head low and eyes averted. Therion smiled. "Good boy. Go and bring him back. I think I'll put out a general bounty on him as well." The Red Dragon's eyes widened. The mercenaries of the 7th Circle were notoriously brutal. He thought about what they would do to Pluto to capture him. What they might do to him after. He clenched his fist tight. "... I'll find him first, sir. They won't get him before me." "I don't really give a shit as long as the boy returns to me." Therion scoffed. "Now, please, //fuck off,// you're stinking up the place." The Red Dragon wanted to tell him that he only stank due to his direct order to never wash the blood off his feathers. Instead he simply kept quiet and nodded his head. “Yes sir.” he obeyed, and took off. Therion was alone, once more. Alone with Babalon’s skull. He picked her up, and shuddered. Babalon felt joy. She was laughing at him, albeit internally. “Shut up, //cunt.// You don’t think I’m not gonna kick his ass when I see him again?” Babalon didn’t stop. If anything, she was downright cackling. "I said //SHUT THE FUCK UP!"// Therion screamed as blue Cocytean fire erupted from his shoulders and froze his jacket solid. "Do you think you're in any position to laugh now, bitch?! I have your skull in my hands and your body being used for lunch meat! Do you honestly think you're still better than //me?!"// Babalon's laughter roared through Therion's head. Louder than ever before. He didn't need her to speak to know what the answer was. He squeezed her skull hard enough that his hands trembled. If he could he would crush Babalon's skull like a hammer to a kneecap. Instead all he could do was shut his eyes and clench his jaw tight as her laughter overpowered every single thought he had. Therion inhaled and opened his eyes. ”… You know, I just realized. He might come back for you... Say, what was that Living World you were messing with? The one you made us invest in for your little secret project?” She fell emotionally silent. “How about we take a visit?” ---- The dark cave echoed with the sounds of footsteps and dripping stalactites as the ritual started up. The robed participants marched into the open area, and led the sacrificial lamb into the center. “Io Therion, Beast of Violence, and bringer of the antichrist,” the ceremony master began in Latin. “Hear our call, and accept our offering.” “Hear us. Hear us. Hear us,” his followers chanted, one of them approaching the sheep with an ornate dagger. “Accept our offering, and protect our souls as we devote them unto your service,” the leader continued as his servant raised the dagger, ready to drop it down upon the lamb. “We dedicate this tribute to you. In your name. Ame-“ He was cut off by the sudden rift opening up, in the middle of the cave, the King of Violence himself stepping out from the opposite side, clutching the skull of a jackal-like being. “L-Lord Therion! All hail th-“ “Yeah yeah yeah, hail me, whatever.” He waved his free-hand dismissively. “Look, hold onto this for me, will ya?” He said, tossing the skull into the hands of theirs priest, who fumbled the catch in his hands. “I gotta go beat my son's ass, I'll be back in like five minutes or something. See ya.” And just as soon as he came, he left. The only evidence of his arrival sitting in the human’s hands. There was a long silence; the only sounds that could be heard was the dripping water and the singular ‘baaa’ of the sheep they brought with them. It was then that one of the mortals would say the only thing that they could think to say in that moment. He doffed his hood, and cleared his throat. “… What the fuck?” [[/div]] [[div class="papernote"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: sigil2.png > Author: [[user Fantem]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Therion_Devours.png > Author: [[user Fantem]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Coldest_Asshole.jpg > Author: [[user Opossumistic]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/div]]	2023-01-06T02:02:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "coldpostcon", "primrose-esquire", "tale", "whore-of-blood" ]	Therion Devours - SCP Foundation	58	[ "whore-of-blood-hub", "scp-7603", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "whore-of-blood-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "coldpostcon" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/therion-devours/Coldest_Asshole.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/therion-devours/Coldest_Asshole.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/Therion-devours/Therion_Devours.png" ]	1445399531	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/therion-devours
they-have-no-use-for-your-song	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>I’d been sat in the bathroom for half an hour now. The toilet seat was cold. I wasn’t exactly feeling the call of nature, but.. I needed a minute or thirty to myself. God, had it really been a year since I’d last visited home? Since I'd last seen any of my extended family?</p> <p>I hadn’t even planned on coming back. I was just about to let my parents know I’d be working in Bismarck over the winter break, hoping to save up for a post-graduation holiday, when they’d come up to visit. Stern faces looking across from me at the coffee shop. None of the cheer that they were known for. Lots of discussions about ‘coming of age’ and ‘being old enough to know.’</p> <p>My mother’s side of the family is strange. My dad is ‘American’, in the sense that he doesn’t really care about his heritage. He takes more pride in the local baseball team than he does in which European country his great great forebears came from. My mother’s family, though, take a great deal of pride in their heritage. Polish, having come over in ‘37. Just before everything went to shit over there. A lot of people assume I’m Jewish, when I tell them that. We’re not, though. My grandparents are oddly cagey about where exactly they came from, but that never stopped them from bringing Poland to North Dakota. The biggest night of the year in the community was Koliada. After Christmas. Kids were never allowed to celebrate, in our town. Not with the adults. We always spent it at Grandmother’s house, away from the community centre. I was allowed there any other day of the year, playing basketball or attending Boy Scouts, or… regardless, it wasn’t the location that was the problem. I barely thought about it as a kid, happy to hang out with my cooler sixteen year old cousins for the evening. But then they turned eighteen, and then it was just me and grandmother.</p> <p>She was an eerie woman, in a kind way. Often found her looking out of the window, wistfully. Not up at the sky. No. Down at the dirt. Like she was waiting for someone to burst from the ground. But then she’d spot me watching, without turning her head, even if I’d been really sneaky. And she’d pick me up in her arms and spin me a tale about the old country.</p> <p>I hadn’t spoken to her since I left. There had been something in her eyes that day. I’d slinked home after being lost in the woods for days on end. I’d been babbling about the slithering red <em>thing</em> that I’d seen slinking through the corridor at the community centre. Come to think of it, that had been the day after Koliada. The shock had seen me move off to college earlier. Had made me spend most of my time in Bismarck, rarely visiting. They’d told me that I’d imagined it, but… I’d known what I’d seen.</p> <p>My feet were numb now. I stood up, wincing as blood rushed back into my legs and my skin prickled and writhed with restored sensations. Ow. <em>What was I doing?</em> It was stupid to just stew in my anxiety. In the bathroom of all places. It’s nothing, probably. Maybe the adults just don’t want their kids to see them all drunk and foolish. Worst case scenario, my family were all swingers and I just could leave and never talk to them again. Haha.</p> <p>I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The part of me that doesn’t almost have a college degree, that isn’t aware of reason and science, the animal inside. It’s screaming at me to run. To sprint through the cold woods and never look back.</p> <p>I push that part of me down. I’m an adult. I can handle an awkward speech about manhood. I’m related to half these people anyway.</p> <p>I stepped into the community hall for the first time in years. It’s been reorganised. A tall pole, made out of some white wood stained red with paint, has been erected in the centre of the room. Thick brown and red fabric strips hang from it. A May pole in winter. Odd. But not, like, terrifying.</p> <p>The hall had filled up whilst I was having my episode in the bathroom. Everyone was here now. I caught a few glances, exchanged some polite nods and greetings with old neighbours. A few conversations had clearly changed gears as I entered. People smiling oddly. Laughing at fake jok- No! <em>Stop letting your anxiety control you.</em> I pace myself, and resist the urge to run back to the toilet. A chair, that’ll steady my nerves. I find one next to the food table, cloth-covered trays of dishes with names I can’t even hope to pronounce.</p> <p>I’d had traditional Polish food before, but this smells different. The smell was <em>persuasive</em>. It forces its way inside me, through my nose and mouth. It was disturbingly similar to things I’ve smelled before. In hunting season, when my granddad would cure meats in his shed. Sweat, bile and rot. I spring to my feet, scanning for another chair crossing the room as subtly as I can before sitting down. Deep breaths, in and out, and within a few minutes I can open my eyes without feeling the need to vomit. I look away from the table. God, was I having a fucking panic attack over odd smelling food at an ethnic festival? I was acting like a Lovecraft protagonist right now! <em>Oh God! Stew! What horror!</em> I hoped no-one had noticed.</p> <p>They seem excited. Jumpy. It reminded me of the crowd at a concert, after the start time has passed but before the band has come on. Those ten or so minutes of the unknown before the night begins. The curtains on the stage are drawn, and on it I can see several of the younger men and women from the village. Three or so years younger than me, around eighteen. They’re all dressed in oddly revealing outfits. A low chant began to fill the hall, coming from all around me. I didn’t actually speak Polish. But I <em>recognised</em> Polish.</p> <p>This wasn’t Polish.</p> <p>The young folks proceeded to the pole, gripping the fabric in hand and beginning to dance around it. Twisting and turning, their forms almost morphing with the cadence. Like fluid in a sac of skin. All around, people from the crowd began to step up, swapping places with them and taking part. They all knew the dance, somehow. Knew it perfectly.</p> <p>A man I didn’t know, clad in an expensive suit, looked at me oddly from the seat next to mine. He placed a hand on my knee.</p> <p>“Aren’t you going to join them, son?”</p> <p>What?</p> <p>“Uh, sorry, I- I haven’t learned the dance.”</p> <p>“Ah. Apologies, I misunderstood. Thought you were a fledgling.”</p> <p>He stood up, discarding his thick coat like it wasn’t worth more than a month of my rent, and I lost him in the gathering throng. Streaks of white, brown and red, flowing through each other. I thought about slipping out. Then I saw her. Kathy.</p> <p>I hadn’t spoken to her in years. She was one of the few people I’d tried to stay in contact with after leaving. I had hoped that- that we could. Well. She hadn’t gone to college, as we’d planned. She’d stayed behind. She’d been part of the reason I’d even agreed to come back. I watched her dance, anxiety playing in my stomach as the possibilities of what I might say to her whirled through my mind. Before I could pluck up the courage, the chanting -<em>where was that coming from?</em>- rose to a final din, and cut out. Then, another sound replaced it.</p> <p>The sound of wet slopping. The man from before held his arms to the ceiling, enraptured. A pleasured look on his face. All the while, his entrails dropped from his open stomach, his skin tearing like wet paper. I sat, shock paralysing me. People -<em>oh god</em>- others started to mimic the motion. Shifting, changing. Dying - no, not dying. They were laughing. Singing, singing that same chant. <em>Monsters</em>. I looked to Kathy, looked to find and save her, and then I laid eyes on her in the middle of the beasts.</p> <p>Seams appeared on her fingernails and crawled their way up her arms, as if carved by an invisible blade. Crimson started to drip from them, and I had to suppress the urge to scream, but fell silent as her flesh began to split along those seams, unfurling into sheets, so thin as to be translucent. The pale white was interlaced with threads of deep red veins and capillaries, forming a familiar pattern. Lace - I realised with a start. She turns -<em>oh god she sees me watching</em>- I’m about to run, but then she smiles. Knowing. The same smile I knew for years. Throughout the good times and bad. I feel somewhat eased. Somehow, it’s still her.</p> <p>The others, I notice, have finished a similar transfiguration. I almost jumped out of my skin when a heavy hand was placed on my shoulder, a small shriek escaping involuntarily. Standing next to me was a distorted humanoid. Their skin had peeled away from their face, exposing the muscle and sinew beneath, but I recognised the structure, the clothing that bulged and rippled as unseen changes occurred. My old neighbour, Mr Kamiński. He jerked away at my distress, clearly concerned to have disturbed me.</p> <p>All around me, members of the community, friends, acquaintances and strangers stood and joined the new dance. It was rhythmic, as people joined arms, their ligaments literally intertwining as people -<em>monsters</em>- spun and laughed and moved. I almost collapsed. I felt both at home, but also so, so far away. Some deep part of me knew that this was natural, that this was the way things were always meant to be, and it scared me more than the monsters around me. It was sensation and revulsion and curiosity all at once, paralysing me in place but leaving me fully conscious, like someone unable to stop themselves from picking at a crusty scab. Then, the music reached a crescendo, and the chanting escalated into a resounding chorus, before coming to a sudden halt. All eyes turned to me, a room of monstrosities that I knew and loved. Like that, the feeling broke, and my legs stopped betraying me, carrying me from the nightmare out into the cold night. I start to run before stopping, a woozy feeling hitting me as I almost collapse.</p> <p>I saw my grandfather -<em>monster?</em>- in a terse conversation with a suited woman. Even from this distance, I could make out the scars across her face, the evidence of a hard life. My main concern at that moment, barely coherent, was that she was going to turn into something. Some abomination in human skin. But… she seemed normal. For now. Then, my grandfather noticed me watching, and gestured at me to come over. Unthinking, I followed his instruction, and as I approached he gripped me by the shoulders, casting a gaze from my feet up to my head. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the same look he gave to the strips of pork he bought from the local butcher.</p> <p>“Grandson.” His voice was steady, but with a tremor of tension running through it, like a ligament pulled taut. “There is someone you must meet. This is Agent Plee.” She nodded, extending a calloused hand in greeting, shaking mine in a vice grip. “What she is about to tell you is very important, so make sure you pay close attention.” He turns back to her and nods. “Good evening, Agent.”</p> <p>I watched him turn and walk back to the house. Stepping inside, as the door opened, I could hear my mother’s voice. I couldn’t make out her words, but the concern steeped into her tone was clear. But, if that was my mother’s voice, why then, was it so distorted? So in rhythm with the chants coming from inside? “Walk with me.” Plee’s voice was surprisingly reedy for a woman as stockily built as she was. She took me down the road, out into the snow-encrusted woods. Lighting a cigarette, she indulged in a deep drag, staring back at the farmhouse as she exhaled.</p> <p>“So. I bet that was a lot for you.”</p> <p>I could barely stammer out a response before she carried on.</p> <p>“Who- what are you? What was that? What happened, what <em>is</em> happening to them?"</p> <p>"Nothing is happening to them. That's normal to them. That will be normal for you. Your family is what we call anomalous. Specifically, members of an anomalous ethnic religious group. We call them Sarkics. Or Nalka. I can never keep up.”</p> <p>She took another drag.</p> <p>"Me, though? I work for an organisation. We’re called the Foundation. Members of your community may refer to us as the Jailors. We handle things that don’t fit into what you would, until tonight, define as the normal world. We secure them, take them away from those who would misuse them.”</p> <p>Her eyes weren’t focused on me. She was remembering something.</p> <p>“We contain them, lock them away so they can’t hurt anybody or reveal their existence to the wider world. And we protect them from a world that can’t, that <em>won’t</em> understand them. That will destroy them given half the chance.”</p> <p>She’d clearly given this speech before. Many, many times. That much was clear. This was a lecture, not a conversation.</p> <p>“Luckily for you, your grandmother is smart. You don’t get as old as she does in our world without being a bit canny, but she’s a cut above. She’s gotten your community into the third category, mainly by not getting anyone involved until they’re old enough. Kids are reckless. Liable to do silly things. This is the arrangement we have with her, with you, now. However, there are a few ground rules to this arrangement that you need to be aware of.”</p> <p>I raised my hand to ask a question, as if I hadn’t been out of high school for two and a half years at this point, but she dismissed me with a wave of her cigarette, loose ash staining the snow beneath my feet.</p> <p>“Rule 1: You tell anyone about this, or anything else I’ve told you, and we will know. Don’t ask how. You don’t want to find out. We will find you, and whoever it is you told, be it a friend, partner, or a random drunk on the train at night. They get out lucky. Little green pill, and it’s like it never happened.”</p> <p>She flashed a plastic medicine bottle from her pocket. Countless little green pills rattled inside.</p> <p>“You and your family get sent to the inside of a containment cell until either you die or the sun explodes. Can never know with your lot.”</p> <p>“Rule 2: If you meet a special someone from outside of the community and want to bring them in, you run it by us, and I will have a little chat with them, similar to the one we are having now. That chat either ends happily for you or with a little green pill for them.”</p> <p>She takes another long drag of her cigarette. Even this far out, I could hear the strangely haunting melodies filtering through the forest, rhythmic chanting matching the frenetic beat of my own pulse.</p> <p>“Rule 3: You see anything, and I mean anything, that is out of the ordinary, except for your own family's practices, you call this number.”</p> <p>She handed me a white business card for <em>Sunshine Coast Products</em>. It feels used.</p> <p>“You call this, ask for the spring ‘08 catalogue. You will get redirected, and then you tell them what you saw, and then you forget you ever saw it. Simple, right? If you give us a helpful tip, it helps build goodwill between my organisation and your family. Makes us more likely to forgive any future fuck-ups.”</p> <p>“Your grandmother can fill you in on the rest. If you’re smart, you’ll listen to her.”</p> <p>She finished her cigarette, putting out the stub on a tree before flicking it through the air.</p> <p>“Tell your granddad I left, and that he’s all clear for his annual check.” She turned to leave, then looked back at me. “With any luck, we won’t meet again.” With that, she was gone, snow crunching under her heavy boots as she headed back towards the main road.</p> <p>I called after her.</p> <p>"Those pills. If I don't want any of this? If I just want to leave? Can I…?</p> <p>She stopped, not even turning to look at me.</p> <p>"If that's what you want. But I think you should talk to her first. Get the full picture."</p> <p>I stood there, flummoxed, clutching a white business card in my hand. Despite the cold, I felt the card start to become damp with my sweat. Then, remembering how important it was, I anxiously dried it on my jacket sleeve, and then placed it carefully into my wallet.</p> <p>It hit all at once. The world was spinning, as if for just a moment I was disconnected from the tether of gravity and force. I stumbled backwards into a tree, bark scratching against my back as I sank to the floor. There was a rising tension in my stomach, something ripping its way out of me. The sensation filled me with mortal terror, my mind flashing back to my family, my friends, -<em>skin tearing and sinew parting, flesh giving way to will itself, blood dripping onto laminate flooring</em>- and my body squeezed and pushed it out.</p> <p><em>I don't want to be like that. Please.</em></p> <p>Yellow and brown stained the white snow, as the smell of half digested alcohol and bread pervaded my nostrils. My throat and nose stung with bile, and the phlegm dangling from my lips mixed with the tears streaming down my face. I collapsed forward, away from the vomit, and lay there until I couldn’t feel the stinging on my lips as they went numb. There were no thoughts running through my mind.</p> <p>Minutes passed.</p> <p>I thought about leaving, about running as fast as I could to the nearest bus station and never looking back.</p> <p>Then I got up, wiped the rest of the sick off my face, and started trudging back to the hall. I saw a figure standing in the doorway, outlined by the light flooding out onto the snow.</p> <p>Grandmother.</p> <p>Time for a talk.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </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="/they-have-no-use-for-your-song">They Have No Use For Your Song</a>" by Sobek109, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/they-have-no-use-for-your-song">https://scpwiki.com/they-have-no-use-for-your-song</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]] [[/>]] I’d been sat in the bathroom for half an hour now. The toilet seat was cold. I wasn’t exactly feeling the call of nature, but.. I needed a minute or thirty to myself. God, had it really been a year since I’d last visited home? Since I'd last seen any of my extended family? I hadn’t even planned on coming back. I was just about to let my parents know I’d be working in Bismarck over the winter break, hoping to save up for a post-graduation holiday, when they’d come up to visit. Stern faces looking across from me at the coffee shop. None of the cheer that they were known for. Lots of discussions about ‘coming of age’ and ‘being old enough to know.’ My mother’s side of the family is strange. My dad is ‘American’, in the sense that he doesn’t really care about his heritage. He takes more pride in the local baseball team than he does in which European country his great great forebears came from. My mother’s family, though, take a great deal of pride in their heritage. Polish, having come over in ‘37. Just before everything went to shit over there. A lot of people assume I’m Jewish, when I tell them that. We’re not, though. My grandparents are oddly cagey about where exactly they came from, but that never stopped them from bringing Poland to North Dakota. The biggest night of the year in the community was Koliada. After Christmas. Kids were never allowed to celebrate, in our town. Not with the adults. We always spent it at Grandmother’s house, away from the community centre. I was allowed there any other day of the year, playing basketball or attending Boy Scouts, or… regardless, it wasn’t the location that was the problem. I barely thought about it as a kid, happy to hang out with my cooler sixteen year old cousins for the evening. But then they turned eighteen, and then it was just me and grandmother. She was an eerie woman, in a kind way. Often found her looking out of the window, wistfully. Not up at the sky. No. Down at the dirt. Like she was waiting for someone to burst from the ground. But then she’d spot me watching, without turning her head, even if I’d been really sneaky. And she’d pick me up in her arms and spin me a tale about the old country. I hadn’t spoken to her since I left. There had been something in her eyes that day. I’d slinked home after being lost in the woods for days on end. I’d been babbling about the slithering red //thing// that I’d seen slinking through the corridor at the community centre. Come to think of it, that had been the day after Koliada. The shock had seen me move off to college earlier. Had made me spend most of my time in Bismarck, rarely visiting. They’d told me that I’d imagined it, but… I’d known what I’d seen. My feet were numb now. I stood up, wincing as blood rushed back into my legs and my skin prickled and writhed with restored sensations. Ow. //What was I doing?// It was stupid to just stew in my anxiety. In the bathroom of all places. It’s nothing, probably. Maybe the adults just don’t want their kids to see them all drunk and foolish. Worst case scenario, my family were all swingers and I just could leave and never talk to them again. Haha. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The part of me that doesn’t almost have a college degree, that isn’t aware of reason and science, the animal inside. It’s screaming at me to run. To sprint through the cold woods and never look back. I push that part of me down. I’m an adult. I can handle an awkward speech about manhood. I’m related to half these people anyway. I stepped into the community hall for the first time in years. It’s been reorganised. A tall pole, made out of some white wood stained red with paint, has been erected in the centre of the room. Thick brown and red fabric strips hang from it. A May pole in winter. Odd. But not, like, terrifying. The hall had filled up whilst I was having my episode in the bathroom. Everyone was here now. I caught a few glances, exchanged some polite nods and greetings with old neighbours. A few conversations had clearly changed gears as I entered. People smiling oddly. Laughing at fake jok- No! //Stop letting your anxiety control you.// I pace myself, and resist the urge to run back to the toilet. A chair, that’ll steady my nerves. I find one next to the food table, cloth-covered trays of dishes with names I can’t even hope to pronounce. I’d had traditional Polish food before, but this smells different. The smell was //persuasive//. It forces its way inside me, through my nose and mouth. It was disturbingly similar to things I’ve smelled before. In hunting season, when my granddad would cure meats in his shed. Sweat, bile and rot. I spring to my feet, scanning for another chair crossing the room as subtly as I can before sitting down. Deep breaths, in and out, and within a few minutes I can open my eyes without feeling the need to vomit. I look away from the table. God, was I having a fucking panic attack over odd smelling food at an ethnic festival? I was acting like a Lovecraft protagonist right now! //Oh God! Stew! What horror!// I hoped no-one had noticed. They seem excited. Jumpy. It reminded me of the crowd at a concert, after the start time has passed but before the band has come on. Those ten or so minutes of the unknown before the night begins. The curtains on the stage are drawn, and on it I can see several of the younger men and women from the village. Three or so years younger than me, around eighteen. They’re all dressed in oddly revealing outfits. A low chant began to fill the hall, coming from all around me. I didn’t actually speak Polish. But I //recognised// Polish. This wasn’t Polish. The young folks proceeded to the pole, gripping the fabric in hand and beginning to dance around it. Twisting and turning, their forms almost morphing with the cadence. Like fluid in a sac of skin. All around, people from the crowd began to step up, swapping places with them and taking part. They all knew the dance, somehow. Knew it perfectly. A man I didn’t know, clad in an expensive suit, looked at me oddly from the seat next to mine. He placed a hand on my knee. “Aren’t you going to join them, son?” What? “Uh, sorry, I- I haven’t learned the dance.” “Ah. Apologies, I misunderstood. Thought you were a fledgling.” He stood up, discarding his thick coat like it wasn’t worth more than a month of my rent, and I lost him in the gathering throng. Streaks of white, brown and red, flowing through each other. I thought about slipping out. Then I saw her. Kathy. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. She was one of the few people I’d tried to stay in contact with after leaving. I had hoped that- that we could. Well. She hadn’t gone to college, as we’d planned. She’d stayed behind. She’d been part of the reason I’d even agreed to come back. I watched her dance, anxiety playing in my stomach as the possibilities of what I might say to her whirled through my mind. Before I could pluck up the courage, the chanting -//where was that coming from?//- rose to a final din, and cut out. Then, another sound replaced it. The sound of wet slopping. The man from before held his arms to the ceiling, enraptured. A pleasured look on his face. All the while, his entrails dropped from his open stomach, his skin tearing like wet paper. I sat, shock paralysing me. People -//oh god//- others started to mimic the motion. Shifting, changing. Dying - no, not dying. They were laughing. Singing, singing that same chant. //Monsters//. I looked to Kathy, looked to find and save her, and then I laid eyes on her in the middle of the beasts. Seams appeared on her fingernails and crawled their way up her arms, as if carved by an invisible blade. Crimson started to drip from them, and I had to suppress the urge to scream, but fell silent as her flesh began to split along those seams, unfurling into sheets, so thin as to be translucent. The pale white was interlaced with threads of deep red veins and capillaries, forming a familiar pattern. Lace - I realised with a start. She turns -//oh god she sees me watching//- I’m about to run, but then she smiles. Knowing. The same smile I knew for years. Throughout the good times and bad. I feel somewhat eased. Somehow, it’s still her. The others, I notice, have finished a similar transfiguration. I almost jumped out of my skin when a heavy hand was placed on my shoulder, a small shriek escaping involuntarily. Standing next to me was a distorted humanoid. Their skin had peeled away from their face, exposing the muscle and sinew beneath, but I recognised the structure, the clothing that bulged and rippled as unseen changes occurred. My old neighbour, Mr Kamiński. He jerked away at my distress, clearly concerned to have disturbed me. All around me, members of the community, friends, acquaintances and strangers stood and joined the new dance. It was rhythmic, as people joined arms, their ligaments literally intertwining as people -//monsters//- spun and laughed and moved. I almost collapsed. I felt both at home, but also so, so far away. Some deep part of me knew that this was natural, that this was the way things were always meant to be, and it scared me more than the monsters around me. It was sensation and revulsion and curiosity all at once, paralysing me in place but leaving me fully conscious, like someone unable to stop themselves from picking at a crusty scab. Then, the music reached a crescendo, and the chanting escalated into a resounding chorus, before coming to a sudden halt. All eyes turned to me, a room of monstrosities that I knew and loved. Like that, the feeling broke, and my legs stopped betraying me, carrying me from the nightmare out into the cold night. I start to run before stopping, a woozy feeling hitting me as I almost collapse. I saw my grandfather -//monster?//- in a terse conversation with a suited woman. Even from this distance, I could make out the scars across her face, the evidence of a hard life. My main concern at that moment, barely coherent, was that she was going to turn into something. Some abomination in human skin. But… she seemed normal. For now. Then, my grandfather noticed me watching, and gestured at me to come over. Unthinking, I followed his instruction, and as I approached he gripped me by the shoulders, casting a gaze from my feet up to my head. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the same look he gave to the strips of pork he bought from the local butcher. “Grandson.” His voice was steady, but with a tremor of tension running through it, like a ligament pulled taut. “There is someone you must meet. This is Agent Plee.” She nodded, extending a calloused hand in greeting, shaking mine in a vice grip. “What she is about to tell you is very important, so make sure you pay close attention.” He turns back to her and nods. “Good evening, Agent.” I watched him turn and walk back to the house. Stepping inside, as the door opened, I could hear my mother’s voice. I couldn’t make out her words, but the concern steeped into her tone was clear. But, if that was my mother’s voice, why then, was it so distorted? So in rhythm with the chants coming from inside? “Walk with me.” Plee’s voice was surprisingly reedy for a woman as stockily built as she was. She took me down the road, out into the snow-encrusted woods. Lighting a cigarette, she indulged in a deep drag, staring back at the farmhouse as she exhaled. “So. I bet that was a lot for you.” I could barely stammer out a response before she carried on. “Who- what are you? What was that? What happened, what //is// happening to them?" "Nothing is happening to them. That's normal to them. That will be normal for you. Your family is what we call anomalous. Specifically, members of an anomalous ethnic religious group. We call them Sarkics. Or Nalka. I can never keep up.” She took another drag. "Me, though? I work for an organisation. We’re called the Foundation. Members of your community may refer to us as the Jailors. We handle things that don’t fit into what you would, until tonight, define as the normal world. We secure them, take them away from those who would misuse them.” Her eyes weren’t focused on me. She was remembering something. “We contain them, lock them away so they can’t hurt anybody or reveal their existence to the wider world. And we protect them from a world that can’t, that //won’t// understand them. That will destroy them given half the chance.” She’d clearly given this speech before. Many, many times. That much was clear. This was a lecture, not a conversation. “Luckily for you, your grandmother is smart. You don’t get as old as she does in our world without being a bit canny, but she’s a cut above. She’s gotten your community into the third category, mainly by not getting anyone involved until they’re old enough. Kids are reckless. Liable to do silly things. This is the arrangement we have with her, with you, now. However, there are a few ground rules to this arrangement that you need to be aware of.” I raised my hand to ask a question, as if I hadn’t been out of high school for two and a half years at this point, but she dismissed me with a wave of her cigarette, loose ash staining the snow beneath my feet. “Rule 1: You tell anyone about this, or anything else I’ve told you, and we will know. Don’t ask how. You don’t want to find out. We will find you, and whoever it is you told, be it a friend, partner, or a random drunk on the train at night. They get out lucky. Little green pill, and it’s like it never happened.” She flashed a plastic medicine bottle from her pocket. Countless little green pills rattled inside. “You and your family get sent to the inside of a containment cell until either you die or the sun explodes. Can never know with your lot.” “Rule 2: If you meet a special someone from outside of the community and want to bring them in, you run it by us, and I will have a little chat with them, similar to the one we are having now. That chat either ends happily for you or with a little green pill for them.” She takes another long drag of her cigarette. Even this far out, I could hear the strangely haunting melodies filtering through the forest, rhythmic chanting matching the frenetic beat of my own pulse. “Rule 3: You see anything, and I mean anything, that is out of the ordinary, except for your own family's practices, you call this number.” She handed me a white business card for //Sunshine Coast Products//. It feels used. “You call this, ask for the spring ‘08 catalogue. You will get redirected, and then you tell them what you saw, and then you forget you ever saw it. Simple, right? If you give us a helpful tip, it helps build goodwill between my organisation and your family. Makes us more likely to forgive any future fuck-ups.” “Your grandmother can fill you in on the rest. If you’re smart, you’ll listen to her.” She finished her cigarette, putting out the stub on a tree before flicking it through the air. “Tell your granddad I left, and that he’s all clear for his annual check.” She turned to leave, then looked back at me. “With any luck, we won’t meet again.” With that, she was gone, snow crunching under her heavy boots as she headed back towards the main road. I called after her. "Those pills. If I don't want any of this? If I just want to leave? Can I…? She stopped, not even turning to look at me. "If that's what you want. But I think you should talk to her first. Get the full picture." I stood there, flummoxed, clutching a white business card in my hand. Despite the cold, I felt the card start to become damp with my sweat. Then, remembering how important it was, I anxiously dried it on my jacket sleeve, and then placed it carefully into my wallet. It hit all at once. The world was spinning, as if for just a moment I was disconnected from the tether of gravity and force. I stumbled backwards into a tree, bark scratching against my back as I sank to the floor. There was a rising tension in my stomach, something ripping its way out of me. The sensation filled me with mortal terror, my mind flashing back to my family, my friends, -//skin tearing and sinew parting, flesh giving way to will itself, blood dripping onto laminate flooring//- and my body squeezed and pushed it out. //I don't want to be like that. Please.// Yellow and brown stained the white snow, as the smell of half digested alcohol and bread pervaded my nostrils. My throat and nose stung with bile, and the phlegm dangling from my lips mixed with the tears streaming down my face. I collapsed forward, away from the vomit, and lay there until I couldn’t feel the stinging on my lips as they went numb. There were no thoughts running through my mind. Minutes passed. I thought about leaving, about running as fast as I could to the nearest bus station and never looking back. Then I got up, wiped the rest of the sick off my face, and started trudging back to the hall. I saw a figure standing in the doorway, outlined by the light flooding out onto the snow. Grandmother. Time for a talk. @@ @@ ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Sobek109]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-24T16:01:00	[ "_licensebox", "body-horror", "first-person", "horror", "psychological-horror", "religious-fiction", "sarkic", "tale" ]	They Have No Use For Your Song - SCP Foundation	22	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "sarkicism-hub" ]	[]	1449130886	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/they-have-no-use-for-your-song
things-you-see-in-a-graveyard	<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> <p>My pen scratches against the journal's pages as I write, back straining from being hunched over for so long. I don't exactly have a chair; I'm in a tent, for god's sake. This is a solo field mission.</p> <p>I move my hand in a small arc, drawing bones onto the page. The curve of ribs, jutting out from the earth like a cage.</p> <p>For I am camped within a graveyard.</p> <p>It is not a normal cemetery, persay. It is not of marble tombstones, not of fresh flowers upon graves, not of ornate mausoleums. It is of massive, rising bones. Skulls with long, jagged teeth. Heads adorned by twin horns, or domes, or crests.</p> <p>It is a resting place of ancient beasts. Their epitaphs carved into their very bones, christening them as hunters, songwriters, defenders, poets. Families and great deeds, etched into ribs. Names across skulls. All carved by careful claws millions of years ago.</p> <p>And all watched by stony eyes.</p> <p>Sitting next to me in my tent is a broken idol, picked up off the ground from where it had fallen.</p> <p>It is akin to an archeopteryx, carved from stone. Three heads, six eyes. Wings spread open wide like a vulture basking in the sun. This one was broken, its one wing snapped from its side from when it had fallen. A leg was similarly broken, which left it unable to stand properly. I would not be able to return it to it's ancient post even if I wanted to. So I, when I had picked it up, devised to take it with me. The others back at Site-403 will likely be very enthused by the gathering of an artifact such as this. Despite its damages, it's still remarkably preserved for its age, and that's rare in this field.</p> <p>There are countless other statues of this creature, all throughout the graveyard. They perch on skulls, on the peaks of ribcages. With their open, toothy jaws, widespread wings, and alert eyes, I figure them to be idols of a guardian. Not the God of Death that these ancients nary speak of in their texts, but something gentler. A protector, a guardian, a watcher of the dead.</p> <p>A guide.</p> <p>I put down my pen, and shift my hand to pick up the idol. It's a heavy stone, basalt, if I had to guess. Its one side more heavily eroded and moss covered than then the other after spending who knows how long fallen - but the side that had been against the ground, spared from the rain and wind, showed great and wonderous detail. Stone feathers, overlapping and almost sharp. There were bone-like ridges down the back. Its remaining clawed foot looked like it was meant to be carved bone as opposed to flesh and blood.</p> <p>I begin to sketch it into my journal. Letting the thing come to rest against my water bottle- an item that it is no bigger than- so that it can stand straight.</p> <p>When the sun dips below the horizon at last, I settle myself down for the night. Perhaps it is ill advised to spend overnight in an ancient graveyard, but it stretches for almost a mile. To backtrack would waste time and energy, so it was an easier task to rest here.</p> <p>Hopefully the dead do not mind a temporary tenant.</p> <p>The morning comes quietly, I rise from a dreamless sleep to find the idol had fallen during the night. I frown, and scoop it up. As I pack my things and prepare to keep moving, I find myself keeping it tucked under my arm. I worry it may be too fragile to keep within my bag, amongst the supplies I have brought with me.</p> <p>With a swig from my water bottle, and a granola bar swiftly eaten, I set out further.</p> <p>Within the cool morning, there is a thick fog. It blankets the mossy landscape, rolls over the grass and embraces the bones. It dulls their brilliant and deep browns, and turns them to shadowed figures. My tent had been set up in proximity to the massive skull of a Spinosaurus. It's long maw and massive back spine cut through the fog like an approaching ship.</p> <p>I spare it a glance as I walk past, grasping my compass from around my neck to ensure I am going in the right direction- that I am continuing towards my destination.</p> <p>Though I cannot see it through the din of gray, at the heart of this burial ground a massive crypt does lay. From the day before, I had seen it within the distance. It had been a tall spire- piercing the sky and carved from a dark stone not unlike the idol. Other details were hard to see, but it was built upon a hill. I will know that I am approaching when the grade of the slope changes.</p> <p>But for now, I walk along flat ground. Amongst dew covered grass, past the shadows of massive bones. I find my gaze drawn to the idol again, raising it up a bit as I walk. The dew of the morning seems to have dampened part of it. The areas where it's wing and leg have broken off look wet- the stone darker and shining. I don't have much of anything to wipe away the water, though, so I leave it be.</p> <p>Following the lead of the compass, I press onwards. The air is still and quiet, the fog weighing heavily everywhere around me. It could be construed as a frightening thing, but it's almost serene. Though this place is of the dead there is still life to be had. Ferns grow in the shadows cast by ancient bones, their leaves curl as I brush past. There is thick grass and lichens, gentle moss clinging to bones. From the skeleton of an exceptionally large sauropod, whose neck spans the gap of a small ravine, ivy dangles down like a curtain of deep greens.</p> <p>It was going to be a long walk, but it was a beautiful one, and it will be a fruitful one. The scientists of Site-403, <em>the Department of Paleontology,</em> have been looking into finding more of this ancient religion. A prehistoric pantheon, so to speak. Paleotheology is the word they've begun to ascribe to it; the anomalous phenomena of <em>dinosaur religion.</em> This graveyard, buried deep in an old Nexus only unearthed recently, is no exception.</p> <p>The search for any knowledge on their god of death has come up exceedingly dry. They nary transcribed a word of it. The general consensus was that the god was not spoken of out out fear, out of not wanting to draw it's attention. Hence why we have found no name, only epithets. They all knew its true name anyways, so why bother recording it? Why risk it?</p> <p>Thus Death's name is lost, and we can barely find anything of it. But this discovery wields hope of something, <em>anything</em> relating to it. A colleague of mine back at the site, the archivist Dr. Wysdan, had dug up some older files for me prior to setting out on this solo-mission. Fi found that there are records of a group of individuals known as the 'Gravetenders', those who put aside the apparent social taboo of death. Those who regarded it not with scorn and fear but with respect and acceptance.</p> <p>Which made them the likely makers of this place, of this graveyard, the carvers of the artifact in my hand and the crypt that lay ahead. I can hope that within will serve some sort of answer, anything to record. The knowledge would be priceless, and a glimpse into an unknown aspect of their mythology.</p> <p>Speaking of, I am almost there. The flat ground turns to a slope. Amongst the fog I see an old stone path, partially overtaken by moss, and patterned with the imprints of theropod tracks. I briefly kneel down to brush my hand against one of them. They're mostly uniform in size. I wonder if it's the work of one very dedicated individual, or several of similar size and species.</p> <p>The path leads further onwards, and eventually, through the fog, I see it. A massive gateway of dark stone yawns open, the doors parted. Were they left that way? Or had the elements forced their parting?</p> <p>I step inside.</p> <p>The first part of the structure is a massive, circular room. The edges have little shelves and benches along its curves. It is of black and white stones- likely basalt (like the idol) and perhaps marble? The floor has an interlocking pattern that looks like fishbones- thin and sharp stripes of white rock branching off in a spiral, like the bones of some great serpent that coils around a dip in the center of the room. This pattern continues to rise up, curl around pillars. The walls are all carved with the symbols of bones. Curved claws, limbs, teeth, skulls.</p> <p>It takes me a moment to realize that it is not just miscellaneous patterning, not just intricacies meant to fill space, until my eyes trace all the way to the top of the high wall.</p> <p>To the massive skull that crowns the ceiling.</p> <p>Unlike all the other carvings, which are indents filled with white stone, this is three dimensions. The skull is that of some theropod, a tyrannosaurid if I had to guess? It's jaws are parted to reveal jagged teeth in two rows. Empty eye sockets stare down at me from their place at least 40 feet above where I stand.</p> <p>I hear a faint <em>drip-drop, drip-drop</em>, and quiet little splashes. My gaze falls back down to the dip in the center of the room, only now realizing that there is a liquid within it. Water, perhaps? The dark stone makes it appear black as pitch, filling up the space by a few inches.</p> <p>More droplets fall down from the maw above.</p> <p>The three-headed idol in my hand has grown warm.</p> <p>A stark contrast to the chill of the building that was beginning to work its way through my clothes. I place it down on one of the stone benches as I take out my journal and click open my pen.</p> <p>I sketch out the space around me, the winding patterns of bones, the skull at the helm. With the level of extravagance to it all, I wonder if it is a symbol of something larger. A sculpture this grand can't <em>just</em> be a decoration. It has to be more.</p> <p>I move towards the water(?) at the center of the room, its surface smooth like glass until a single droplet hits it's surface from above and spreads ripples across. My reflection shines remarkably clear within it, the dark stone at the bottom of this little pool makes the water look far deeper than it truly is. It makes the water appear as though it is a deep, deep black. The bottom of the pool had little flecks of white amongst the smooth basalt, it sparkled at the bottom like stars.</p> <p>It's quite beautiful.</p> <p>I can see the reflection of the skull the hangs above, too. Whenever a droplet hits the pool, it distorts the image. It looks as though it <em>moves</em> with each ripple. It looks like the jaw twists, or that the skull bares its teeth or turns its head this way or that. I know that it is the water, but it still makes me recoil, makes me look up at the sculpture to childishly assure myself that it has, in fact, not moved from its post.</p> <p>But the idol had.</p> <p>I slip my journal back onto my person once I'd satisfied my need to record, returning my pen to its place tucked behind my ear. And the three-headed statue was gone.</p> <p>I whirl around, scan the circular room for any trace. Did I get turned around? Forget where it lay? It did blend in with the stone that surrounds.</p> <p>My eyes are drawn back towards the center of the space when I hear a splash.</p> <p>The idol is sitting in the water. It is not the still, lifeless thing it was before. The three heads click their teeth and tilt their heads. I stare warily.</p> <p>Hm.</p> <p>Against my better judgement, I crouch down and approach the stone construct. I watch as it dips its heads into the water- the liquid splashing it down its stony back like a bird in a birdbath. The remaining stone wing flutters.</p> <p>When I get about a foot away from the edge of the water, it jolts its heads up and stares. All three heads, all six eyes.</p> <p>I go still. I do not know what it is capable of. Are all the other little statues within the graveyard alive? Is it a property of the building I am within? Or a result of my disturbance of it?</p> <p>The creature in the fountain does not attempt to flee, nor approach, it stares at me blankly.</p> <p>A drop of water from above falls again, it hits the middle head of the idol and rolls down the side of the face, down the neck, down the stone-feather chest, to the break where the one leg once was.</p> <p>Another drop.</p> <p>The another.</p> <p>And another.</p> <p>It becomes less a single <em>drip-drip-drop</em> and becomes a steady stream of water from the maw above. The pool ripples and distorts in response to the new flow. I watch as the liquid (it may not be water anymore) shifts and condenses on the broken parts of the statue. It's drawn into the cracks, melts in- <em>reforming it?</em></p> <p>A new wing. A new leg. It is far darker than original stonework of the statue. It looks almost as though it was repaired like a kintsugi- except instead of gold, it was a deep, midnight black.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><img alt="ss66acF.jpg" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/ss66acF.jpg"/></p> <p>The idol jumps to the edge of the pool, hops out. It trails water behind it. The pouring from above has ceased back to the single drops. I glance back up at the skull, then back down to the statue.</p> <p>"…what are you..?" my voice echoes within the acoustics of the circular room, surrounds and reverberates off the walls.</p> <p>It stares at me. Wings open, then close, then open again. To see basalt move and shift like flesh and feather? It sends a shiver down my spine.</p> <p>"Are you a guardian?" I ask.</p> <p>It does not reply.</p> <p>"Are you Death?"</p> <p>It looks up at the skull, then back down to me. I do not know how to feel of that implication.</p> <p>The air is cold.</p> <p>"Are you a guide?"</p> <p>That gets it to move significantly. The wings flap, a sound like grinding stone. The idol unhinges its three jaws and makes a low rumble. It vibrates in my chest, like the deep bass from a concert that rattles your very bones.</p> <p>An unsettling thing to feel from something so small.</p> <p>The creature turns, jumps, takes flight to one side of the room. I shake my head and push myself up, my limbs feeling achy now. Had I been so tired when I arrived? Had the walk really been that long?</p> <p>I turn to find where the thing had went.</p> <p>The idol stares at me, perched above a doorway on the far side of the room. A doorway that I had not seen upon entering.</p> <p>Had it always been there?</p> <p>Or had it materialized it there?</p> <p>I stare up at the stonework beast, and it stares back. Three heads. Six eyes.</p> <p>It drops down to land in front of the arch, then turns; it's claws clicking against the dark floor. It gets a few steps through the gate, swivels its three heads to me. Stares. Three heads. Six eyes.</p> <p>It then spreads its wings. Stone feathers sliding against each other, a gentle scrapping sound.</p> <p>Beckoning.</p> <p>Beckoning.</p> <p>Beckoning.</p> <p>…</p> <p>I follow.</p> </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]] [[/>]] My pen scratches against the journal's pages as I write, back straining from being hunched over for so long. I don't exactly have a chair; I'm in a tent, for god's sake. This is a solo field mission. I move my hand in a small arc, drawing bones onto the page. The curve of ribs, jutting out from the earth like a cage. For I am camped within a graveyard. It is not a normal cemetery, persay. It is not of marble tombstones, not of fresh flowers upon graves, not of ornate mausoleums. It is of massive, rising bones. Skulls with long, jagged teeth. Heads adorned by twin horns, or domes, or crests. It is a resting place of ancient beasts. Their epitaphs carved into their very bones, christening them as hunters, songwriters, defenders, poets. Families and great deeds, etched into ribs. Names across skulls. All carved by careful claws millions of years ago. And all watched by stony eyes. Sitting next to me in my tent is a broken idol, picked up off the ground from where it had fallen. It is akin to an archeopteryx, carved from stone. Three heads, six eyes. Wings spread open wide like a vulture basking in the sun. This one was broken, its one wing snapped from its side from when it had fallen. A leg was similarly broken, which left it unable to stand properly. I would not be able to return it to it's ancient post even if I wanted to. So I, when I had picked it up, devised to take it with me. The others back at Site-403 will likely be very enthused by the gathering of an artifact such as this. Despite its damages, it's still remarkably preserved for its age, and that's rare in this field. There are countless other statues of this creature, all throughout the graveyard. They perch on skulls, on the peaks of ribcages. With their open, toothy jaws, widespread wings, and alert eyes, I figure them to be idols of a guardian. Not the God of Death that these ancients nary speak of in their texts, but something gentler. A protector, a guardian, a watcher of the dead. A guide. I put down my pen, and shift my hand to pick up the idol. It's a heavy stone, basalt, if I had to guess. Its one side more heavily eroded and moss covered than then the other after spending who knows how long fallen - but the side that had been against the ground, spared from the rain and wind, showed great and wonderous detail. Stone feathers, overlapping and almost sharp. There were bone-like ridges down the back. Its remaining clawed foot looked like it was meant to be carved bone as opposed to flesh and blood. I begin to sketch it into my journal. Letting the thing come to rest against my water bottle- an item that it is no bigger than- so that it can stand straight. When the sun dips below the horizon at last, I settle myself down for the night. Perhaps it is ill advised to spend overnight in an ancient graveyard, but it stretches for almost a mile. To backtrack would waste time and energy, so it was an easier task to rest here. Hopefully the dead do not mind a temporary tenant. The morning comes quietly, I rise from a dreamless sleep to find the idol had fallen during the night. I frown, and scoop it up. As I pack my things and prepare to keep moving, I find myself keeping it tucked under my arm. I worry it may be too fragile to keep within my bag, amongst the supplies I have brought with me. With a swig from my water bottle, and a granola bar swiftly eaten, I set out further. Within the cool morning, there is a thick fog. It blankets the mossy landscape, rolls over the grass and embraces the bones. It dulls their brilliant and deep browns, and turns them to shadowed figures. My tent had been set up in proximity to the massive skull of a Spinosaurus. It's long maw and massive back spine cut through the fog like an approaching ship. I spare it a glance as I walk past, grasping my compass from around my neck to ensure I am going in the right direction- that I am continuing towards my destination. Though I cannot see it through the din of gray, at the heart of this burial ground a massive crypt does lay. From the day before, I had seen it within the distance. It had been a tall spire- piercing the sky and carved from a dark stone not unlike the idol. Other details were hard to see, but it was built upon a hill. I will know that I am approaching when the grade of the slope changes. But for now, I walk along flat ground. Amongst dew covered grass, past the shadows of massive bones. I find my gaze drawn to the idol again, raising it up a bit as I walk. The dew of the morning seems to have dampened part of it. The areas where it's wing and leg have broken off look wet- the stone darker and shining. I don't have much of anything to wipe away the water, though, so I leave it be. Following the lead of the compass, I press onwards. The air is still and quiet, the fog weighing heavily everywhere around me. It could be construed as a frightening thing, but it's almost serene. Though this place is of the dead there is still life to be had. Ferns grow in the shadows cast by ancient bones, their leaves curl as I brush past. There is thick grass and lichens, gentle moss clinging to bones. From the skeleton of an exceptionally large sauropod, whose neck spans the gap of a small ravine, ivy dangles down like a curtain of deep greens. It was going to be a long walk, but it was a beautiful one, and it will be a fruitful one. The scientists of Site-403, //the Department of Paleontology,// have been looking into finding more of this ancient religion. A prehistoric pantheon, so to speak. Paleotheology is the word they've begun to ascribe to it; the anomalous phenomena of //dinosaur religion.// This graveyard, buried deep in an old Nexus only unearthed recently, is no exception. The search for any knowledge on their god of death has come up exceedingly dry. They nary transcribed a word of it. The general consensus was that the god was not spoken of out out fear, out of not wanting to draw it's attention. Hence why we have found no name, only epithets. They all knew its true name anyways, so why bother recording it? Why risk it? Thus Death's name is lost, and we can barely find anything of it. But this discovery wields hope of something, //anything// relating to it. A colleague of mine back at the site, the archivist Dr. Wysdan, had dug up some older files for me prior to setting out on this solo-mission. Fi found that there are records of a group of individuals known as the 'Gravetenders', those who put aside the apparent social taboo of death. Those who regarded it not with scorn and fear but with respect and acceptance. Which made them the likely makers of this place, of this graveyard, the carvers of the artifact in my hand and the crypt that lay ahead. I can hope that within will serve some sort of answer, anything to record. The knowledge would be priceless, and a glimpse into an unknown aspect of their mythology. Speaking of, I am almost there. The flat ground turns to a slope. Amongst the fog I see an old stone path, partially overtaken by moss, and patterned with the imprints of theropod tracks. I briefly kneel down to brush my hand against one of them. They're mostly uniform in size. I wonder if it's the work of one very dedicated individual, or several of similar size and species. The path leads further onwards, and eventually, through the fog, I see it. A massive gateway of dark stone yawns open, the doors parted. Were they left that way? Or had the elements forced their parting? I step inside. The first part of the structure is a massive, circular room. The edges have little shelves and benches along its curves. It is of black and white stones- likely basalt (like the idol) and perhaps marble? The floor has an interlocking pattern that looks like fishbones- thin and sharp stripes of white rock branching off in a spiral, like the bones of some great serpent that coils around a dip in the center of the room. This pattern continues to rise up, curl around pillars. The walls are all carved with the symbols of bones. Curved claws, limbs, teeth, skulls. It takes me a moment to realize that it is not just miscellaneous patterning, not just intricacies meant to fill space, until my eyes trace all the way to the top of the high wall. To the massive skull that crowns the ceiling. Unlike all the other carvings, which are indents filled with white stone, this is three dimensions. The skull is that of some theropod, a tyrannosaurid if I had to guess? It's jaws are parted to reveal jagged teeth in two rows. Empty eye sockets stare down at me from their place at least 40 feet above where I stand. I hear a faint //drip-drop, drip-drop//, and quiet little splashes. My gaze falls back down to the dip in the center of the room, only now realizing that there is a liquid within it. Water, perhaps? The dark stone makes it appear black as pitch, filling up the space by a few inches. More droplets fall down from the maw above. The three-headed idol in my hand has grown warm. A stark contrast to the chill of the building that was beginning to work its way through my clothes. I place it down on one of the stone benches as I take out my journal and click open my pen. I sketch out the space around me, the winding patterns of bones, the skull at the helm. With the level of extravagance to it all, I wonder if it is a symbol of something larger. A sculpture this grand can't //just// be a decoration. It has to be more. I move towards the water(?) at the center of the room, its surface smooth like glass until a single droplet hits it's surface from above and spreads ripples across. My reflection shines remarkably clear within it, the dark stone at the bottom of this little pool makes the water look far deeper than it truly is. It makes the water appear as though it is a deep, deep black. The bottom of the pool had little flecks of white amongst the smooth basalt, it sparkled at the bottom like stars. It's quite beautiful. I can see the reflection of the skull the hangs above, too. Whenever a droplet hits the pool, it distorts the image. It looks as though it //moves// with each ripple. It looks like the jaw twists, or that the skull bares its teeth or turns its head this way or that. I know that it is the water, but it still makes me recoil, makes me look up at the sculpture to childishly assure myself that it has, in fact, not moved from its post. But the idol had. I slip my journal back onto my person once I'd satisfied my need to record, returning my pen to its place tucked behind my ear. And the three-headed statue was gone. I whirl around, scan the circular room for any trace. Did I get turned around? Forget where it lay? It did blend in with the stone that surrounds. My eyes are drawn back towards the center of the space when I hear a splash. The idol is sitting in the water. It is not the still, lifeless thing it was before. The three heads click their teeth and tilt their heads. I stare warily. Hm. Against my better judgement, I crouch down and approach the stone construct. I watch as it dips its heads into the water- the liquid splashing it down its stony back like a bird in a birdbath. The remaining stone wing flutters. When I get about a foot away from the edge of the water, it jolts its heads up and stares. All three heads, all six eyes. I go still. I do not know what it is capable of. Are all the other little statues within the graveyard alive? Is it a property of the building I am within? Or a result of my disturbance of it? The creature in the fountain does not attempt to flee, nor approach, it stares at me blankly. A drop of water from above falls again, it hits the middle head of the idol and rolls down the side of the face, down the neck, down the stone-feather chest, to the break where the one leg once was. Another drop. The another. And another. It becomes less a single //drip-drip-drop// and becomes a steady stream of water from the maw above. The pool ripples and distorts in response to the new flow. I watch as the liquid (it may not be water anymore) shifts and condenses on the broken parts of the statue. It's drawn into the cracks, melts in- //reforming it?// A new wing. A new leg. It is far darker than original stonework of the statue. It looks almost as though it was repaired like a kintsugi- except instead of gold, it was a deep, midnight black. = [[image https://i.imgur.com/ss66acF.jpg]] The idol jumps to the edge of the pool, hops out. It trails water behind it. The pouring from above has ceased back to the single drops. I glance back up at the skull, then back down to the statue. "...what are you..?" my voice echoes within the acoustics of the circular room, surrounds and reverberates off the walls. It stares at me. Wings open, then close, then open again. To see basalt move and shift like flesh and feather? It sends a shiver down my spine. "Are you a guardian?" I ask. It does not reply. "Are you Death?" It looks up at the skull, then back down to me. I do not know how to feel of that implication. The air is cold. "Are you a guide?" That gets it to move significantly. The wings flap, a sound like grinding stone. The idol unhinges its three jaws and makes a low rumble. It vibrates in my chest, like the deep bass from a concert that rattles your very bones. An unsettling thing to feel from something so small. The creature turns, jumps, takes flight to one side of the room. I shake my head and push myself up, my limbs feeling achy now. Had I been so tired when I arrived? Had the walk really been that long? I turn to find where the thing had went. The idol stares at me, perched above a doorway on the far side of the room. A doorway that I had not seen upon entering. Had it always been there? Or had it materialized it there? I stare up at the stonework beast, and it stares back. Three heads. Six eyes. It drops down to land in front of the arch, then turns; it's claws clicking against the dark floor. It gets a few steps through the gate, swivels its three heads to me. Stares. Three heads. Six eyes. It then spreads its wings. Stone feathers sliding against each other, a gentle scrapping sound. Beckoning. Beckoning. Beckoning. ... I follow.	2023-11-11T18:38:00	[ "_cc", "tale" ]	Things You See in a Graveyard - SCP Foundation	21	[]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[ "https://i.imgur.com/ss66acF.jpg" ]	1451368747	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/things-you-see-in-a-graveyard
this-is-weird	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <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>This is weird</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/drzony13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7663730); return false;"><img alt="Drzony13" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7663730&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645253" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7663730)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drzony13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7663730); return false;">Drzony13</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1672895063 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">05 Jan 2023 05:04</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="anchor"> <div class="authorbox tableb"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>This is weird</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><span class="bt bb">By</span> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drzony13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7663730); return false;"><img alt="Drzony13" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7663730&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043763" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7663730)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drzony13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7663730); return false;">Drzony13</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on 01.05.2023</th> </tr> </table> <div class="flavorbox"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:105%;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/w-swiecie-duchow-u-drzonego-13">AUTHOR PAGE</a></span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="meta-title"> <p>This is weird</p> </div> <img alt="S0aUnP8.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/S0aUnP8.png"/><br/> <img alt="TxZPEF4.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/TxZPEF4.png"/><br/> <img alt="xjgV02O.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/xjgV02O.png"/><br/> <img alt="8eMk8Lx.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/8eMk8Lx.png"/><br/> <img alt="vEGh9B8.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/vEGh9B8.png"/><br/> <img alt="q1sGFN6.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/q1sGFN6.png"/><br/> <img alt="fbfZvVJ.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/fbfZvVJ.png"/><br/> <img alt="byH4fQ2.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/byH4fQ2.png"/><br/> <img alt="LxoJASF.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/LxoJASF.png"/><br/> <img alt="CkdgOqY.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/CkdgOqY.png"/><br/> <img alt="z4lwJB8.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/z4lwJB8.png"/><br/> <img alt="EieO6gO.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/EieO6gO.png"/><br/> <img alt="hB9VxXp.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/hB9VxXp.png"/><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/> <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/> <img alt="SyI3Gbe.png" class="image" src="https://i.imgur.com/SyI3Gbe.png"/><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/> <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/> <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="/this-is-weird">This is weird</a>" by Drzony13, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/this-is-weird">https://scpwiki.com/this-is-weird</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> All of the files present on this page<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drzony13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7663730); return false;"><img alt="Drzony13" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7663730&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043763" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7663730)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/drzony13" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7663730); return false;">Drzony13</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/this-is-weird">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a>]] [[/div]] [[module CSS]] :root{ --header-title: "SCP FOUNDATION"; --header-subtitle: "Secure - Contain - Protect"; --lgurl: url(https://i.imgur.com/o2GETvf.png); --accentColor: hsl(248, 100%, 55%); --accentColorLite: hsla(248, 100%, 65%, 0.5); --hue: 134deg; --bgColor: #040408; --fgColor: #000; } [[/module]] [[div class="anchor"]] [[div class="authorbox tableb"]] \|\|~ This is weird \|\| \|\|= [[span class="bt bb"]] By [[/span]] [[user Drzony13]] \|\| \|\|~ Published on 01.05.2023 \|\| [[div class="flavorbox"]] [[=]] [[size 105%]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/w-swiecie-duchow-u-drzonego-13 AUTHOR PAGE][[/size]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="meta-title"]] This is weird [[/div]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/S0aUnP8.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/TxZPEF4.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/xjgV02O.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/8eMk8Lx.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/vEGh9B8.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/q1sGFN6.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/fbfZvVJ.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/byH4fQ2.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/LxoJASF.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/CkdgOqY.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/z4lwJB8.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/EieO6gO.png]] [[image https://i.imgur.com/hB9VxXp.png]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[image https://i.imgur.com/SyI3Gbe.png]] @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[=image https://i.imgur.com/mUrgybd.png link="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5045"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* All of the files present on this page > Author: [[user Drzony13]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/this-is-weird SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-05T05:04:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "coldpostcon", "tale" ]	This is weird - SCP Foundation	35	[ "w-swiecie-duchow-u-drzonego-13", "scp-5045", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "coldpostcon" ]	[ "https://i.imgur.com/S0aUnP8.png", "https://i.imgur.com/TxZPEF4.png", "https://i.imgur.com/xjgV02O.png", "https://i.imgur.com/8eMk8Lx.png", "https://i.imgur.com/vEGh9B8.png", "https://i.imgur.com/q1sGFN6.png", "https://i.imgur.com/fbfZvVJ.png", "https://i.imgur.com/byH4fQ2.png", "https://i.imgur.com/LxoJASF.png", "https://i.imgur.com/CkdgOqY.png", "https://i.imgur.com/z4lwJB8.png", "https://i.imgur.com/EieO6gO.png", "https://i.imgur.com/hB9VxXp.png", "https://i.imgur.com/SyI3Gbe.png" ]	1445393481	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/this-is-weird
thoughts-you-have-while-drowning-poem	<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>Thoughts You Have While Drowning</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;"><img alt="Dr Vikki Lost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8759091&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188718" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8759091)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-vikki-lost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8759091); return false;">Dr Vikki Lost</a></span><br/> A poem I wrote inspired by <a href="/scp-2316">SCP-2316</a>, and my own thoughts I have most days. Hope you enjoy.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><em>Content Warning for mentions of suicidal ideation and depression</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Thoughts you have<br/> While drowning<br/> In your past<br/> Present<br/> Future<br/> And forever</p> <p>Do people hear<br/> Me break<br/> Surface tension<br/> Tension draining<br/> From my face and arms<br/> As I break<br/> From deep within<br/> And know I never<br/> Was pieced together</p> <p>Tell them I’m sorry<br/> And stare them down<br/> In the face<br/> Until they look<br/> Reasonably sad<br/> For the situation<br/> At hand<br/> Reasonable doubt<br/> That it was in their hands</p> <p>My eyes go dark<br/> I am your black hole<br/> Made of star dust<br/> This dying nova<br/> Though my lungs cave in<br/> Though the water rushes<br/> And I am still so young<br/> And romantically strong<br/> I am so tired<br/> I’m going to bed<br/> Please don’t follow me-<br/> Please don’t follow me here-<br/> I’m going to the lake-<br/> I’m going to die one day-</p> <p>You should hear voices<br/> You should hear me<br/> You should see them-<br/> They are empty threats<br/> These are empty words<br/> I am empty space<br/> Vomiting my life<br/> Into the next pound<br/> I can lose<br/> And the next friend<br/> I can lose<br/> And the next game<br/> I can lose<br/> So can I win this one<br/> One empty lake<br/> The perfect place<br/> To be alone for now<br/> And then again forever?</p> <p>Am I fighting for air<br/> Or am I fighting instincts<br/> Sucking in water<br/> So I drown faster<br/> Than I can pretend<br/> I’m coming back</p> <p>There are not enough words<br/> To string together<br/> Anymore<br/> I’ve tried to say to you-<br/> “…”<br/> So many times<br/> And you don’t<br/> Hear me<br/> Or the sound<br/> Is garbled<br/> From the water<br/> Or you don’t<br/> Care about<br/> The living dead<br/> Only about keeping<br/> The dead alive<br/> There are not enough words-<br/> Or sound<br/> Or light<br/> I’m running out of time-<br/> I’m running out of-</p> <p>Thoughts to have<br/> While drowning-<br/> There is nobody here-<br/> But me-<br/> And the sky-<br/> And<br/> You<br/> Do<br/> Not<br/> Recognise<br/> Me<br/> I<br/> Am</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Nothing</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>I<br/> Have<br/> No<br/> Face</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> While</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Drowning<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Thinking<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>Thoughts</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></p> <p>Drowning</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></p> <p style="text-align: center;">Thoughts</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></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>I</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> <p>Thought</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></p> <p>Drowning</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> …..</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc0"><span><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2316" target="_blank">You do not recognise the bodies in the water</a></strong></span></h3> </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="/thoughts-you-have-while-drowning-poem">Thoughts You Have While Drowning (POEM)</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/thoughts-you-have-while-drowning-poem">https://scpwiki.com/thoughts-you-have-while-drowning-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/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Thoughts You Have While Drowning Author: [[user Dr Vikki Lost]] A poem I wrote inspired by [[[SCP-2316]]], and my own thoughts I have most days. Hope you enjoy. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] //Content Warning for mentions of suicidal ideation and depression// @@ @@ @@ @@ Thoughts you have While drowning In your past Present Future And forever Do people hear Me break Surface tension Tension draining From my face and arms As I break From deep within And know I never Was pieced together Tell them I’m sorry And stare them down In the face Until they look Reasonably sad For the situation At hand Reasonable doubt That it was in their hands My eyes go dark I am your black hole Made of star dust This dying nova Though my lungs cave in Though the water rushes And I am still so young And romantically strong I am so tired I’m going to bed Please don’t follow me- Please don’t follow me here- I’m going to the lake- I’m going to die one day- You should hear voices You should hear me You should see them- They are empty threats These are empty words I am empty space Vomiting my life Into the next pound I can lose And the next friend I can lose And the next game I can lose So can I win this one One empty lake The perfect place To be alone for now And then again forever? Am I fighting for air Or am I fighting instincts Sucking in water So I drown faster Than I can pretend I’m coming back There are not enough words To string together Anymore I’ve tried to say to you- “...” So many times And you don’t Hear me Or the sound Is garbled From the water Or you don’t Care about The living dead Only about keeping The dead alive There are not enough words- Or sound Or light I’m running out of time- I’m running out of- Thoughts to have While drowning- There is nobody here- But me- And the sky- And You Do Not Recognise Me I Am @@ @@ @@ @@ Nothing @@ @@ @@ @@ I Have No Face @@ @@ While @@ @@ @@ @@ Drowning @@ @@ Thinking @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Thoughts @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Drowning @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ = Thoughts @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[>]] I [[/>]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Thought @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Drowning @@ @@ @@ @@ ….. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[=]] +++ [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2316 You do not recognise the bodies in the water]** [[/=]] [[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>]]	2023-12-16T01:00:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "class-of-76", "poetry", "tale" ]	Thoughts You Have While Drowning (POEM) - SCP Foundation	11	[ "scp-2316", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451822419	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/thoughts-you-have-while-drowning-poem
threatini	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Threatini</span></h1> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Calibold</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <div style="text-align: center;"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><strong>OpusConfidant Wiki - SCP-4645 - Threatini</strong></p> </div> </div> <p><strong><a href="/calibri-bold-s-mega-cool-author-page">Calibold's Mega Cool Author Page</a></strong></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="mon-card"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Index #</td> <td><strong>4645</strong></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Type:</td> <td><span class="auto">Auto</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Vengeful Education</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: 120">120</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 80">80</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Defense</td> <td><span style="--num: 110">110</span></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Sp. Attack</td> <td><span style="--num: 30">30</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: 20">20</span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <h3 id="toc1"><span>Overview</span></h3> <p>For a long time, Threatini was in an unfortunate spot in the Euclid tier, where its potential was second to none, and its stats theoretically giving it an edge over almost anything else, but with too many counters and poor matchups preventing it from truly shining. Threatini's bulk is an immense boon to it, and even Keter-tiers would have trouble immediately wiping it out without a supereffective move. Its Attack stat, while comparatively middling, can be fairly threatening as well. Of course, what makes it a true threat is its signature ability, Vengeful Education. Boosting its Attack by one stage for every hit it takes is already fairly broken, but combined with its substantial bulk it can be a monster on the field.</p> <p>Unfortunately, its immense potential was held back by its abysmal movepool and several counters. Its only truly viable attacking move is Hidden Anger, which possesses the decent offensive type Auto and also has STAB, but this effectively makes it a one-trick pony and is easily predicted. Given the prevalence of opponents with strong type matchups against Auto, most teams didn't even need a dedicated Threatini counter. Its ability to set Misfortune helped give it some relevance, but even then the abundance of hazard setters in Keter tier prevents it from rising any higher. Finally, the addition of the Antimeme ability, which prevents stat changes from other abilities, makes it almost useless against any opponent that has it, and it only gets worse as Antimeme becomes more prevalent.</p> <p>However, Threatini entered the metagame suddenly. When <a href="/scp-3125">Memogiga</a> was banned to Apollyon shortly after the release of Series 6, it left a gaping hole in the Keter tier without any Antimeme abilities in the meta. While it still suffered from its other weaknesses, Threatini's usage spiked, and it graduated to the Keter tier, becoming a serious threat. As it happened, this period coincided with the American regional tournament, and Threatini was actually seen on Tufto's experimental 2nd-place team.</p> <p>After a couple months though, more Antimeme opponents entered the metagame, responding to Threatini and others, and Threatini dropped down to Euclid once again. Even there it was only somewhat common, and certainly not a metagame definer. MnemoMirren's revolutionary Euclid metastrategy, using Memogiga's preevolution <a href="/scp-055">Memoloss</a>, was the final nail in the coffin.</p> <p>Of course, with Threatini's pitiful usage in Euclid, one might think that it would end up in Safe; even there, its weaknesses still remain, and it probably still wouldn't be too much of a threat. Unfortunately, ever since the <a href="/spc-hub">Shark Punching Center</a> DLC dropped in Series 4, Vengeful Education has been banned from Safe and lower tiers; this being Threatini's only ability, it's never been allowed.</p> <h3 id="toc2"><span>Setini</span></h3> <div class="blockquote large"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Move 1:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Soul Lock</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 2:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Misfortune</a>/<a href="/spc-hub">Shark Punch</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 3:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Hidden Anger</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Move 4:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Pattern Dance</a></td> </tr> </table> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <td>Item:</td> <td><a href="/scp-4857">Census Ticket</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Ability:</td> <td><a href="javascript:;">Vengeful Education</a></td> </tr> <tr> <td>Persona:</td> <td>Brave</td> </tr> <tr> <td>AVs:</td> <td>252 Atk / 4 HP / 252 SpD</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p>For anyone attempting a single battles set, don't bother. Threatini is useless in singles and doubles, but in doubles it at least has the slightest of potential niches.</p> <p>Setini has always been considered the only truly viable strategy for Threatini in double battles. Hidden Anger is a must-have, being its only viable move, and Pattern Dance helps give it a small edge against the Antimeme ability if it has time to set up. Misfortune is naturally its best hazard, especially against Mineral types which would normally threaten it.</p> <p>Soul Lock and Census Ticket are what really makes this a truly viable combo. Census Ticket prevents any direct attacks from opponents except for the one that attacked it, and Soul Lock's +1 priority overcoming Threatini's nonexistent speed stops the designated attacker from switching out. A smart player can easily switch Threatini into an ineffective attack against it, consuming the Census Ticket, and then use Soul Lock on the following turn, placing Threatini against a severely disadvantaged opponent and giving them effectively a free kill, so long as the opponent has no priority pivot moves.</p> <h1 id="toc3"><span>Discussion</span></h1> <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=1732235173" 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 hate Pokemon</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ferrisj" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8539534); return false;"><img alt="FerrisJ" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8539534&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1732235173" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8539534)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ferrisj" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8539534); return false;">FerrisJ</a></span> <div> <p>Ok I hate every1 and everyting telling me this thing is mid ITS NOT!!! EVERY TIME I PLAY UCLID I GET SWEPT BY THRETINI!!!!!1! its such fkn awful to play agnst</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><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=1732235173" 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>Skill issue</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><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=1732235173" 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>Skill issue</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dyslexeon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7291959); return false;"><img alt="Dyslexeon" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7291959&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1732235173" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7291959)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dyslexeon" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7291959); return false;">Dyslexeon</a></span> <div> <p>Skill issue</p> </div> </div> <div class="comment reply1"><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sherf" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6773179); return false;"><img alt="Sherf" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=6773179&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1732235173" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=6773179)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/sherf" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(6773179); return false;">Sherf</a></span> <div> <p>Skill issue</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="/threatini">OpusConfidant Wiki - SCP-4645 - Threatini</a>" by Calibold, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/threatini">https://scpwiki.com/threatini</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> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4645/Threatini">https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4645/Threatini</a><br/> <strong>Name:</strong> File:Computer-blue.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> OpenClipart<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Computer-blue.svg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Computer-blue.svg</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[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>]] + Threatini [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Calibold \|no-right-margin=]] [[=]] [[module ListPages range="."]] %%title%%* [[/module]] [[[Calibri Bold's Mega Cool Author Page\|Calibold's Mega Cool Author Page]]] [[/=]] [[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:customizable-acs">:scp-wiki:component:customizable-acs</a>]] [[div class="mon-card"]] [[div class="sprite"]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4645/Threatini]] [[/div]] \|\|Index #\|\|4645\|\| \|\|Type:\|\|[[span class="auto"]]Auto[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Vengeful Education]\|\| \|\|Tier:\|\|[# Euclid]\|\| [[div class="stat"]] \|\|HP\|\|[[span style="--num: 120"]]120[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 80"]]80[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 110"]]110[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Attack\|\|[[span style="--num: 30"]]30[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Sp. Defense\|\|[[span style="--num: 100"]]100[[/span]]\|\| \|\|Speed\|\|[[span style="--num: 20"]]20[[/span]]\|\| [[/div]] [[/div]] +++ Overview For a long time, Threatini was in an unfortunate spot in the Euclid tier, where its potential was second to none, and its stats theoretically giving it an edge over almost anything else, but with too many counters and poor matchups preventing it from truly shining. Threatini's bulk is an immense boon to it, and even Keter-tiers would have trouble immediately wiping it out without a supereffective move. Its Attack stat, while comparatively middling, can be fairly threatening as well. Of course, what makes it a true threat is its signature ability, Vengeful Education. Boosting its Attack by one stage for every hit it takes is already fairly broken, but combined with its substantial bulk it can be a monster on the field. Unfortunately, its immense potential was held back by its abysmal movepool and several counters. Its only truly viable attacking move is Hidden Anger, which possesses the decent offensive type Auto and also has STAB, but this effectively makes it a one-trick pony and is easily predicted. Given the prevalence of opponents with strong type matchups against Auto, most teams didn't even need a dedicated Threatini counter. Its ability to set Misfortune helped give it some relevance, but even then the abundance of hazard setters in Keter tier prevents it from rising any higher. Finally, the addition of the Antimeme ability, which prevents stat changes from other abilities, makes it almost useless against any opponent that has it, and it only gets worse as Antimeme becomes more prevalent. However, Threatini entered the metagame suddenly. When [[[SCP-3125\|Memogiga]]] was banned to Apollyon shortly after the release of Series 6, it left a gaping hole in the Keter tier without any Antimeme abilities in the meta. While it still suffered from its other weaknesses, Threatini's usage spiked, and it graduated to the Keter tier, becoming a serious threat. As it happened, this period coincided with the American regional tournament, and Threatini was actually seen on Tufto's experimental 2nd-place team. After a couple months though, more Antimeme opponents entered the metagame, responding to Threatini and others, and Threatini dropped down to Euclid once again. Even there it was only somewhat common, and certainly not a metagame definer. MnemoMirren's revolutionary Euclid metastrategy, using Memogiga's preevolution [[[SCP-055\|Memoloss]]], was the final nail in the coffin. Of course, with Threatini's pitiful usage in Euclid, one might think that it would end up in Safe; even there, its weaknesses still remain, and it probably still wouldn't be too much of a threat. Unfortunately, ever since the [[[SPC Hub\|Shark Punching Center]]] DLC dropped in Series 4, Vengeful Education has been banned from Safe and lower tiers; this being Threatini's only ability, it's never been allowed. +++ Setini [[div class="blockquote large"]] \|\|Move 1:\|\|[# Soul Lock]\|\| \|\|Move 2:\|\|[# Misfortune]/[[[SPC Hub\|Shark Punch]]]\|\| \|\|Move 3:\|\|[# Hidden Anger]\|\| \|\|Move 4:\|\|[# Pattern Dance]\|\| \|\|Item:\|\|[[[scp-4857\|Census Ticket]]]\|\| \|\|Ability:\|\|[# Vengeful Education]\|\| \|\|Persona:\|\| Brave \|\| \|\|AVs:\|\|252 Atk / 4 HP / 252 SpD\|\| [[/div]] For anyone attempting a single battles set, don't bother. Threatini is useless in singles and doubles, but in doubles it at least has the slightest of potential niches. Setini has always been considered the only truly viable strategy for Threatini in double battles. Hidden Anger is a must-have, being its only viable move, and Pattern Dance helps give it a small edge against the Antimeme ability if it has time to set up. Misfortune is naturally its best hazard, especially against Mineral types which would normally threaten it. Soul Lock and Census Ticket are what really makes this a truly viable combo. Census Ticket prevents any direct attacks from opponents except for the one that attacked it, and Soul Lock's +1 priority overcoming Threatini's nonexistent speed stops the designated attacker from switching out. A smart player can easily switch Threatini into an ineffective attack against it, consuming the Census Ticket, and then use Soul Lock on the following turn, placing Threatini against a severely disadvantaged opponent and giving them effectively a free kill, so long as the opponent has no priority pivot moves. + Discussion [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user Ralliston]] [[div]] I hate Pokemon [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment"]] [[user FerrisJ]] [[div]] Ok I hate every1 and everyting telling me this thing is mid ITS NOT!!! EVERY TIME I PLAY UCLID I GET SWEPT BY THRETINI!!!!!1! its such fkn awful to play agnst [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user HarryBlank]] [[div]] Skill issue [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Tufto]] [[div]] Skill issue [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Dyslexeon]] [[div]] Skill issue [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div_ class="comment reply1"]] [[user Sherf]] [[div]] Skill issue [[/div]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-4645/Threatini > Name: File:Computer-blue.svg > Author: OpenClipart > License: CC0 > Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Computer-blue.svg ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-01T21:33:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "alternate-history", "comedy", "shark-punching-center", "tale", "worldbuilding" ]	OpusConfidant Wiki - SCP-4645 - Threatini - SCP Foundation	29	[ "calibri-bold-s-mega-cool-author-page", "scp-3125", "scp-055", "spc-hub", "scp-4857", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "spc-hub", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "fortune-favors-hub", "decom-dept-hub", "april-fools-hub" ]	[]	1447101083	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/threatini
three-lessons-for-endless-night	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <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>Three Lessons for Endless Night</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/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=1736645251" 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></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1676347352 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">14 Feb 2023 04:02</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> <div class="blockquote lightweight"> <h2 id="toc0"><span>Dramatis Personae</span></h2> <p>Our narrator, <em>JAMES NO-NAME,</em> abandoned to the Fundamentum at the tender age of seven, now eleven and on his way to the Arcana Institute of Xerophylla to become a Phlegm Trooper and fight the hordes of Darkest Evropa</p> <p><em>LI,</em> a redheaded young woman who is of the Social Fire in the Blood Class at the Arcana Institute.</p> <p><em>ASHEWORT NOWAK,</em> a vain young man who perhaps has hidden depths, who has been groomed all his life to stand as a noble of the Burning Hollow in the Choler Class.</p> <p><em>ALLISON,</em> of the Sorrow Fall and the Bile Class. Daughter of a Professor at the Arcana Institute.</p> <p><em>PROFESSOR LIGHT,</em> Matron of the Phlegm Class. James's current guardian. May or may not have a mysterious connection to Friar Clef… and Christ.</p> <h2 id="toc1"><span>The Story So Far:</span></h2> <p><a href="/the-phlegmfont">The Beginning:</a> Our narrator, James, is abandoned at Holy Site-6248 and adopted by the kindly Friar Alto Clef, who raises him in the ways of the Fundamentum but also in the forbidden lore of Jesus Christ.</p> <p><a href="/the-road-to-arcana">The Start of the Journey:</a> Upon coming of age, James and the Friar set out on the open road to the Arcana Institute, where he meets the people who will shape his years to come…</p> </div> <p>We settled into an uncomfortable rhythm for our classes at the Arcana Institute. We would wake at an unknowable hour in order to run laps around the Arcana Institute's campus under the command of Madame Jones. When we had run into exhaustion, we would then eat meals of Yvithbrick. Two days of every week, we would join the other students in culture classes. These classes would outline the history of the Fundamentum and told us how proud we should be of our fate.</p> <p>We had Animal Husbandry with Professor Kiryu and the Choler, Military Strategy with Professor Dan and everyone else, and Physical Education with the Blood under the watch of Professor Light. This was on top of our daily fitness training.</p> <p>Professor Light had come to us in our barracks on the first day of classes.</p> <p>"Many of you," she said, "are outcasts. You are unwanted. You are heretics. You may have been told by the world that you are scum, and that you shall not achieve."</p> <p>We shifted uncomfortably. I had long known that to join the Phlegm Troopers was to march towards death, to march towards unspeakable oblivion in Darkest Evropa, but to hear it spoken for the first time — and to many who had been D-Class from youth, as I had, but not told of the true implications of the title?</p> <p>But then Professor Light had taken off her gloves. There were deep gashes on both of her hands.</p> <p>"I, too, was once branded a heretic," she said. "And yet now I stand before you. The Phlegm gave me strength. Through battle I was redeemed. And now I stand, ready and able to guide you to salvation."</p> <p>I appreciated her thoughts. I appreciated her mercy. I did not believe it, even then. For I had learned that you could not reach salvation through works alone, but through accepting the sacrifice of Christ as your personal savior. So while Professor Light had given me a very kind offer, I could not believe it in any sense.</p> <p>I quickly grew close with the other Phlegmists. How could I not? There was Cole Thereven, of the Vissonvir Therevens. His father was a chef for the Phlegm Troopers, responsible for shaping Yvithbrick into meals palatable for the army; his mother did something very similar for the elites of Xerophylla, concocting Yvithbrick formulations that did not curse them with Yvith's Revenge, forcing them to be put to the sword. It was a very important job, as it was necessary to maintain morale, and every month or so Cole would proudly claim that his parents had developed one of the recipes that we ate. I had wondered out loud why he was not learning the ways of the Social Fire, as he seemed gregarious in a way that I was not; he said that the choice had been offered to him, but he could not think of a more noble calling than the one before him.</p> <p>Yet he was the noblest among us; all the rest of our year were DeClassus, D-Class in the common tongue, Doomed to Die, wards of the Fundamentum. Where the others were DeClassus as we were, they were not D-Class; they were DeClassus for they had volunteered, to bring honor to their families by serving the Fundamentum.</p> <p>But our motley crew had no family to serve. Russell Ruslavovich, son of the infamous Ruslav the Heretic, who sought to bind all Arcana and Magic under his iron grip within his Magnificent Signet. Aphroditus Asteria, messiah of the Starlight Cult, stolen from Olumpos, deep within Darkest Evropa. The Waelz siblings, tens of them, all made of fireless smoke. Nomal Ryder. Each one a heretic against the Fundamentum, against Xerophylla.</p> <p>But as I stood there, surrounded by this motley crew of conscripts — Cole Thereven, beginning to realize he was in above his head, Russell Ruslavovich, burdened with the sins of a father time had all but forgotten, Aphroditus Asteria, a star child bound to a world not ready for her yet, and the Waelz siblings, homunculi produced by a mad genius at the edge of time — I could see them beginning to embrace Professor Light's instructions and her promises. And I could tell, from the air of the nonbeliever, that she had given this speech before, to every generation of students to pass into the Phlegm, and that they had begun to believe this heretic speech.</p> <p>I could not let this stand forever.</p> <p>I would have to keep my proselytic ambitions constrained to those of the Phlegm; I so rarely had an opportunity to speak to the other conscripts of the Arcana Institute.</p> <hr/> <p>"I don't know how you do it," Li said, her pale face red even under the red moonlight as we jogged a lap between strength training. "I heard that you Phlegmies have to do this and worse every day! Honestly!"</p> <p>"The Phlegm makes us strong."</p> <p>She rolled her eyes. "It smells foul, James. A liquid coming forth from the ground shouldn't be <em>sweet,</em> of all things!"</p> <p>Her breaths were getting labored between the sentences. She didn't slow down. She was never the type to back down from a challenge.</p> <p>"I don't understand why we have to do this part anyways," she said, panting. "The Blood. I'm looking forward to the dancing classes. Moving in such harmony with the world around us…"</p> <p>I must have made a face of some sort; I had never been all that fond of dancing, for there was none at the Phlegmfont.</p> <p>"What?" she said.</p> <p>"Why would the Phlegm need to dance?" I said.</p> <p>"Why would the Blood need to run?" she shot back.</p> <p>"Because," Professor Light said, jumping in to easily match our pace, her strength flowing from her inner Phlegm, "grace and might are two sides of the same coin."</p> <p>"Professor!" Li shouted. "Where did you come from?"</p> <p>"I used the power of my Shining Arcana to keep an eye on all of you," she said. "The Arcane Number of which I shall not disclose. You will need to be strong, young Clot, so you might dance all night long. And you, little Loogie, will see an odd similarity in grace on the battlefield and grace on the dance floor."</p> <p>She vanished as fast as she had appeared.</p> <p>"Now that," I said, "is true power."</p> <p>Li smiled toothily. "I still have the Social Fire," she said, though she seemed more flippant that confident. "As long as I have that."</p> <p>I noticed her breathing was getting quite heavy; we were running laps around all of the other Blood first-years, though roughly matching pace with the other Phlegmlings.</p> <p>We passed one of her classmates, who was huffing and puffing and staggering even behind all the rest, and she kicked him in the shin. He pitched forward, stumbling — and then he inconveniently stepped upon a patch of loose moss, and was flung forward by his own momentum, until he splattered into a puddle of mud, his spectacles going flying.</p> <p>I must have looked rather shocked.</p> <p>"Really, Willie? Again?" Li said mockingly. "Honestly, how does this keep happening to you!"</p> <p>"Maybe if you stopped kicking me — "</p> <p>"This is the first time I've done it all week! Yesterday it was Harold, and before it was Delphina, and before it was yourself! You're of the Fire as much as any of us, why couldn't you see it coming?"</p> <p>"Well maybe if—"</p> <p>I wanted no part of this, so I ran to rejoin the other Phlegmlings.</p> <hr/> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="arcanaschool.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/three-lessons-for-endless-night/arcanaschool.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Professor Dan's Lecture Hall.</p> </div> </div> <p>Professor Dan's first class only began once we'd had some time to acclimate to our new lives.</p> <p>For me, he needn't have bothered. His words were little Friar Clef hadn't said many times before.</p> <p>When I had seen him in the opening ceremonies, Professor Dan had looked like a generic looking white man. He wore a white ceremonial robe with no marking of Class or creed. He looked rather unassuming at first. I suppose my friends were underestimating him, as they chuckled and rolled their eyes as we entered his lecture hall.</p> <p>He wasn't present.</p> <p>His lecture hall was more accurately an arena or amphitheater, in the old Imperial fashion, with rows of seats surrounding a center stage. The front ring was reserved for the Bile; the second ring for the Phlegm and the Choler, and the furthest out for the Blood.</p> <p>I sat in my seat with trepidation. I saw Allison standing gloomily in the amphitheater. She must have been acting as Dan's apprentice or assistant. I waved at her, but she did not wave back.</p> <p>I heard Ashewort Nowak scoff loudly to his cluster of sycophants, "Strategy? What utter rubbish. Why, strategy is for the Phlegm. A single user of the Burning Hollow could take on an army alone, without the slightest need for <em>any</em> help. We don't need any of this!"</p> <p>There was the sound of fingers snapping.</p> <p>Ashewort Nowak's chair vanished from under him, and he fell to the floor with a yelp, his head vanishing behind the ring of desks.</p> <p>The chair appeared in the center of the lecture hall. From behind a shimmering veil of illusion, Professor Dan emerged. He held a card in his hand that looked almost like a playing card, like the Arcana Friar Clef had used to open the tunnel to the Arcana Institute. But this card had a picture of the chair upon it.</p> <p>"<a href="/scp-1609">Arcana MDCIX</a>," he said, holding the card up. "The Roaming Chair. It responds to its binder's whim, travels to where it is needed. An Arcana of the artificer's type, though usable by any no matter their Class. Useful, whenever near high areas, for assassination. An equalizer, for those who cannot drink of the Phlegm, cannot hear the Social Fire, cannot embrace the Burning Hollow, cannot scale the Sorrow Fall."</p> <p>Ashewort Nowak stood up shakily, looking rather pale. I felt the air around him growing still and tense, the choleric power of the Burning Hollow seeping from his pores.</p> <p>"How dare you!" he spat. "When my father hears about this—"</p> <p>"Yes, yes, I'm sure Damien Nowak will have some choice words for me," Professor Dan said. "Doubtless some inspiring screed about how our world is impure and such and how we must rail against the Fundamentum from within. You know, it's a wonder they aren't planning to have you on the front lines, a battlemage bloodline from a troublesome family. Ashewort, was it?"</p> <p>Ashewort shifted uncomfortably. I almost felt bad for him, except he clearly deserved it. The power in the air faded, and the winds resumed.</p> <p>"Let this be your first lesson," Professor Dan said. "Whenever you enter an unfamiliar space — when you enter the lair of a hostile Arcanist or Witch — always be on your guard. They know their space far better than you, and it is hubris to believe otherwise. And do your research. Knowledge is always an enviable advantage, and often a fatal one."</p> <p>He smiled at us all. The class was rapt in attention, which was odd for ten year olds. But he clapped, breaking our reverie. "And I'm afraid that's the most interesting thing I can teach you in today's lesson. The rest of it, by no choice of my own, will be boring things. Book learning. Old Coghead wants me teaching you the theory of the higher forms of war."</p> <p>Professor Dan waved his Arcana, and the chair returned to Ashewort Nowak, who settled in it uncomfortably. The Professor flicked his hand, the Arcana wisping away into the empyrean, and another chair appeared before him. He sat in the chair backwards, facing us, leaning his arms on its back.</p> <p>"You all know by now that the universe is divided into four great categories," he said. "The first among equals the Merchant-Orators of the Bloody Humor, the Social Fire. Second among equals, the Scholar-Priests of the Bilious Humor, the Sorrow Fall. Third among equals, the Warrior-Poets of the Choleric Humor, the Burning Hollow. But lowest of them all, without any doubt, the Serf-Byblows of the Phlegmatic Humor, the Cold Reserve."</p> <p>My friends winced, as did I. Professor Dan went on. He didn't care.</p> <p>"They say when Great Urizen split the universe from Zoa, when the Second Hytoth ended and the Third began, he broke the elements of the old world imperfect. The Social Fire and the Burning Hollow are the mingled children of Fire and Wind; the same for Sorrow Fall and Cold Reserve to Earth and Water."</p> <p>I already knew all of this, of course. Friar Clef had taught it to me with no small amount of emphasis.</p> <p>"These, of course, are spoken of in myths and legends throughout Xerophylla," Professor Dan said. "They say many things in taverns and among the peasantry, not all of them true. If you heard what they said about the Fundamentum, they would tell you uncountable lies. That we fuel our war machines with the death of newborn babes. That in the far west, beyond the edge of the horizon, we have a great mecharcana that can churn out endless homunculi and remake the world. That we tried to slay the Night itself."</p> <p>He paused. "All ridiculous. I am about to tell you the truth of the Fundamentum's power."</p> <p>"The universe is split in four by nature.There are four elements, four humors upon which reality stands. But to build a stable foundation for a chair, you only need three legs."</p> <p>"Let me tell you a parable about one of the strongest weapons in the Fundamentum's arsenal," Professor Dan said. "The Tripillar Configuration. This principle is behind the strongest things the Fundamentum can deploy."</p> <p>Again, he pulled the Arcana out, perhaps from his sleeve — and three chairs jumped to equidistant points around them, a crystal flask upon each.</p> <p>"The first pillar is Sanctity. The first pillar is a conduit to divinity. Without this seed-source of your power, the construction cannot form. An Arcana is stolen fire from the gods, numen thieved from those so large they will hardly notice it missing."</p> <p>He walked over to one of the crystal flasks and held it aloft, so that we might all see it. There was a simple yellow powder within it.</p> <p>"This is sulfur. The soul, whether yours or another's."</p> <p>"The second pillar is Control. Your Control is what keeps the power from overwhelming you. It is the dividing line between what we practice and the black arts of Darkest Evropa, the Wild Fey, and Witches. They are ruled by their power. This is salt. The body."</p> <p>"The third pillar is Paradigm. The Paradigm is the defining shape through which the power flows. It allows you to chain reality with temporary rules, so long as you are within the Tripillar Configuration. This is the human spirit. The power of reconfiguration. Mutability. Transformation. Quicksilver. The catalyst, so that the whole is more than the sum of its parts."</p> <p>At the time, I had thought that this was the entirety of the universe — that the Four humors were like the four corners of the wind, and the Three Pillars the foundation by which we controlled them. Oh, how naive I was.</p> <p>An ancient poet once said that there were things in heaven and earth not dreamt of in my philosophy. It was naive to think the world could be split in four, and ruled by three. There were the Five Phases of Transitional Change, known to the ancient Xia of the Far Sunrise. Beyond that, the Six Autophagic Archons of Yaldaboath-who-was-Wan, constantly devouring and renewing themselves in vain and futile attempts to steal apotheosis, and beyond that the Seven Dead Gods between the Second Hytoth and the Third and their Seven Brides with Scarlet Veils—</p> <p>Outwards and outwards the universe spiraled beyond the bounds of my youthful imagination. Some even whispered that of the gods, there were two thousand and two score and ten, who burned with stolen light and left creation hollow—</p> <p>But even inwards there was depth beyond imagining, powers that were intended for control that I hadn't imagined. There was the forever-duality of He-Who-Made-Light and She-Who-Made-Dark, that the Pillars were forged to constrict—</p> <p>And even deeper, at the heart of the eternal pointless war of all things, was the One. The source of all things. Where divine and man united. At the heart of all creation, the Christ. Upon which the world turned. The one path to Salvation.</p> <p>I knew nothing of this at the time.</p> <p>"The third lesson: things are not always as they seem."</p> <p>The back of my head buzzed. I remembered the pranks Friar Clef had pulled on me back at the Phlegmfont Abbey, his oft-malicious pranks meant to hone my reflexes. I surged to my feet, the strength of Christphlegm within me.</p> <p>Professor Dan snapped his fingers, and every chair in the lecture hall vanished from beneath their occupants. There was a cacophony of surprised yelps and cries of pain as all the students fell. I heard a burst of particularly vibrant cursing from Li. Only I and Ashewort remained standing.</p> <p>The chairs appeared in the center of the lecture hall, arranging themselves in a tesselated tower that reached towards the heavens, like the Tower of Babel in the Holy Bible of Christ. I squinted at it, wondering how this mischief was made, and I was rewarded with the sight of a twisted cord of palest grey, the Arcanic thread Professor Dan was using to weave his way about his room.</p> <p>"Never," he said, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere, "fall for a trap that your comrades have fallen for. Use their failures as a lesson. And never fall for the same trap twice.""</p> <p>I could see him atop the tower of chairs, and I wondered how his voice had carried so far.</p> <p>"You," he said, pointing to Ashewort Nowak. "You learned your lesson quick enough. Good. That'll keep you alive. The front lines can always use more Hollowcanists."</p> <p>"And you," he said, pointing at me. "What's your name?"</p> <p>"James, sir," I said.</p> <p>"Wrong!" he shouted. "Your name is a secret! Don't just go out giving your name to anyone who asks for it, especially if you don't know why! They could use it to commit fraud! They could slip behind the ranks of our troops and pretend to be you! They could steal from your bank vaults!"</p> <p>He jumped down from the tower of chairbel, a feather falling Arcana glittering about his feet. "Though, I suppose, it's fine that you said your name here. I am your professor, after all, and you, James No-Name, were already known to me."</p> <p>I was used to such absurdities in presentation and lesson. I had been raised by Friar Clef.</p> <p>"Vigilance," he said. "Both in body and in mind. Your instincts, James, are strong. I could see you living through your tribulations and coming here to train others in your golden years."</p> <p>He looked around the hall once more. "The rest of you have much learning to do, and not enough time in which to do it. You are here at the institute to learn and to grow — but should there be need of it, you could be called to battle — even now."</p> <p>And yet even despite that promise, it was but an anticlimax. It was by far the most interesting lesson we'd had in all of two weeks, yet I grew restless, as did my fellows.</p> <p>Two weeks had passed, and we had not been taught any of the Institute's famed Arcana. I wondered, perhaps, if they thought we were unready or undisciplined or unloyal. Little did I know that soon our Professors would soon be reminded that dangers lurked even in the Institute's walls.</p> <hr/> <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="The Arcana Institute of Xerophylla"> <p><a href="/the-arcana-institute-of-xerophylla">The Arcana Institute of Xerophylla</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="NIGHTFALL: QUI LACTIS"> <p><a href="/qui-lactis">NIGHTFALL: QUI LACTIS</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Names Stricken"> <p><a href="/names-stricken">Names Stricken</a></p> </div> </div> <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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Staar Cuttt 2 5</a></td> <td>Rating: 45</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/a-wandsman-in-the-greaze-lands-of-kansas">A Wandsman In The Greaze Lands Of Kansas</a></td> <td>Rating: 43</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-166">SPC-166: CERISE CERES</a></td> <td>Rating: 42</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-1548">SPC-1548</a></td> <td>Rating: 39</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/spc-cn-985">SPC-CN-985: FIST CONTACT</a></td> <td>Rating: 32</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2"><span style="font-size:120%;">Hubs</span></th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/goldbaker-reinz-hub">Goldbaker-Reinz Hub</a></td> <td>Rating: 108</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/april-fools-hub">April Fools Hub</a></td> <td>Rating: 51</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/qui-lactis">NIGHTFALL: Qui Lactis</a></td> <td>Rating: 40</td> </tr> </table> </div> <h2 id="toc2"><span>Collaborations!</span></h2> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="3"><span 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false;">TheBoxOfFun</a></span></td> </tr> </table> </div> </div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Hide</a></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="/three-lessons-for-endless-night">Three Lessons for Endless Night</a>" by LORDXVNV, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/three-lessons-for-endless-night">https://scpwiki.com/three-lessons-for-endless-night</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> <p><strong>Images:</strong></p> <ul> <li><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anatomy_Lecture_Theatre_top_row.jpg">Anatomy Lecture Theatre top row</a> by Annie Caldwell, Licensed under Creative Commons 4.0 SA, modified by LORDXVNV</li> </ul> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a> witching-hour=a]] [[/div]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="blockquote lightweight"]] ++ Dramatis Personae Our narrator, //JAMES NO-NAME,// abandoned to the Fundamentum at the tender age of seven, now eleven and on his way to the Arcana Institute of Xerophylla to become a Phlegm Trooper and fight the hordes of Darkest Evropa //LI,// a redheaded young woman who is of the Social Fire in the Blood Class at the Arcana Institute. //ASHEWORT NOWAK,// a vain young man who perhaps has hidden depths, who has been groomed all his life to stand as a noble of the Burning Hollow in the Choler Class. //ALLISON,// of the Sorrow Fall and the Bile Class. Daughter of a Professor at the Arcana Institute. //PROFESSOR LIGHT,// Matron of the Phlegm Class. James's current guardian. May or may not have a mysterious connection to Friar Clef... and Christ. ++ The Story So Far: [[[the-phlegmfont\|The Beginning:]]] Our narrator, James, is abandoned at Holy Site-6248 and adopted by the kindly Friar Alto Clef, who raises him in the ways of the Fundamentum but also in the forbidden lore of Jesus Christ. [[[the-road-to-arcana\|The Start of the Journey:]]] Upon coming of age, James and the Friar set out on the open road to the Arcana Institute, where he meets the people who will shape his years to come... [[/div]] We settled into an uncomfortable rhythm for our classes at the Arcana Institute. We would wake at an unknowable hour in order to run laps around the Arcana Institute's campus under the command of Madame Jones. When we had run into exhaustion, we would then eat meals of Yvithbrick. Two days of every week, we would join the other students in culture classes. These classes would outline the history of the Fundamentum and told us how proud we should be of our fate. We had Animal Husbandry with Professor Kiryu and the Choler, Military Strategy with Professor Dan and everyone else, and Physical Education with the Blood under the watch of Professor Light. This was on top of our daily fitness training. Professor Light had come to us in our barracks on the first day of classes. "Many of you," she said, "are outcasts. You are unwanted. You are heretics. You may have been told by the world that you are scum, and that you shall not achieve." We shifted uncomfortably. I had long known that to join the Phlegm Troopers was to march towards death, to march towards unspeakable oblivion in Darkest Evropa, but to hear it spoken for the first time -- and to many who had been D-Class from youth, as I had, but not told of the true implications of the title? But then Professor Light had taken off her gloves. There were deep gashes on both of her hands. "I, too, was once branded a heretic," she said. "And yet now I stand before you. The Phlegm gave me strength. Through battle I was redeemed. And now I stand, ready and able to guide you to salvation." I appreciated her thoughts. I appreciated her mercy. I did not believe it, even then. For I had learned that you could not reach salvation through works alone, but through accepting the sacrifice of Christ as your personal savior. So while Professor Light had given me a very kind offer, I could not believe it in any sense. I quickly grew close with the other Phlegmists. How could I not? There was Cole Thereven, of the Vissonvir Therevens. His father was a chef for the Phlegm Troopers, responsible for shaping Yvithbrick into meals palatable for the army; his mother did something very similar for the elites of Xerophylla, concocting Yvithbrick formulations that did not curse them with Yvith's Revenge, forcing them to be put to the sword. It was a very important job, as it was necessary to maintain morale, and every month or so Cole would proudly claim that his parents had developed one of the recipes that we ate. I had wondered out loud why he was not learning the ways of the Social Fire, as he seemed gregarious in a way that I was not; he said that the choice had been offered to him, but he could not think of a more noble calling than the one before him. Yet he was the noblest among us; all the rest of our year were DeClassus, D-Class in the common tongue, Doomed to Die, wards of the Fundamentum. Where the others were DeClassus as we were, they were not D-Class; they were DeClassus for they had volunteered, to bring honor to their families by serving the Fundamentum. But our motley crew had no family to serve. Russell Ruslavovich, son of the infamous Ruslav the Heretic, who sought to bind all Arcana and Magic under his iron grip within his Magnificent Signet. Aphroditus Asteria, messiah of the Starlight Cult, stolen from Olumpos, deep within Darkest Evropa. The Waelz siblings, tens of them, all made of fireless smoke. Nomal Ryder. Each one a heretic against the Fundamentum, against Xerophylla. But as I stood there, surrounded by this motley crew of conscripts -- Cole Thereven, beginning to realize he was in above his head, Russell Ruslavovich, burdened with the sins of a father time had all but forgotten, Aphroditus Asteria, a star child bound to a world not ready for her yet, and the Waelz siblings, homunculi produced by a mad genius at the edge of time -- I could see them beginning to embrace Professor Light's instructions and her promises. And I could tell, from the air of the nonbeliever, that she had given this speech before, to every generation of students to pass into the Phlegm, and that they had begun to believe this heretic speech. I could not let this stand forever. I would have to keep my proselytic ambitions constrained to those of the Phlegm; I so rarely had an opportunity to speak to the other conscripts of the Arcana Institute. ------ "I don't know how you do it," Li said, her pale face red even under the red moonlight as we jogged a lap between strength training. "I heard that you Phlegmies have to do this and worse every day! Honestly!" "The Phlegm makes us strong." She rolled her eyes. "It smells foul, James. A liquid coming forth from the ground shouldn't be //sweet,// of all things!" Her breaths were getting labored between the sentences. She didn't slow down. She was never the type to back down from a challenge. "I don't understand why we have to do this part anyways," she said, panting. "The Blood. I'm looking forward to the dancing classes. Moving in such harmony with the world around us..." I must have made a face of some sort; I had never been all that fond of dancing, for there was none at the Phlegmfont. "What?" she said. "Why would the Phlegm need to dance?" I said. "Why would the Blood need to run?" she shot back. "Because," Professor Light said, jumping in to easily match our pace, her strength flowing from her inner Phlegm, "grace and might are two sides of the same coin." "Professor!" Li shouted. "Where did you come from?" "I used the power of my Shining Arcana to keep an eye on all of you," she said. "The Arcane Number of which I shall not disclose. You will need to be strong, young Clot, so you might dance all night long. And you, little Loogie, will see an odd similarity in grace on the battlefield and grace on the dance floor." She vanished as fast as she had appeared. "Now that," I said, "is true power." Li smiled toothily. "I still have the Social Fire," she said, though she seemed more flippant that confident. "As long as I have that." I noticed her breathing was getting quite heavy; we were running laps around all of the other Blood first-years, though roughly matching pace with the other Phlegmlings. We passed one of her classmates, who was huffing and puffing and staggering even behind all the rest, and she kicked him in the shin. He pitched forward, stumbling -- and then he inconveniently stepped upon a patch of loose moss, and was flung forward by his own momentum, until he splattered into a puddle of mud, his spectacles going flying. I must have looked rather shocked. "Really, Willie? Again?" Li said mockingly. "Honestly, how does this keep happening to you!" "Maybe if you stopped kicking me -- " "This is the first time I've done it all week! Yesterday it was Harold, and before it was Delphina, and before it was yourself! You're of the Fire as much as any of us, why couldn't you see it coming?" "Well maybe if--" I wanted no part of this, so I ran to rejoin the other Phlegmlings. ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> name=arcanaschool.jpg \| caption=Professor Dan's Lecture Hall. \| align=center \| width=100% ]] Professor Dan's first class only began once we'd had some time to acclimate to our new lives. For me, he needn't have bothered. His words were little Friar Clef hadn't said many times before. When I had seen him in the opening ceremonies, Professor Dan had looked like a generic looking white man. He wore a white ceremonial robe with no marking of Class or creed. He looked rather unassuming at first. I suppose my friends were underestimating him, as they chuckled and rolled their eyes as we entered his lecture hall. He wasn't present. His lecture hall was more accurately an arena or amphitheater, in the old Imperial fashion, with rows of seats surrounding a center stage. The front ring was reserved for the Bile; the second ring for the Phlegm and the Choler, and the furthest out for the Blood. I sat in my seat with trepidation. I saw Allison standing gloomily in the amphitheater. She must have been acting as Dan's apprentice or assistant. I waved at her, but she did not wave back. I heard Ashewort Nowak scoff loudly to his cluster of sycophants, "Strategy? What utter rubbish. Why, strategy is for the Phlegm. A single user of the Burning Hollow could take on an army alone, without the slightest need for //any// help. We don't need any of this!" There was the sound of fingers snapping. Ashewort Nowak's chair vanished from under him, and he fell to the floor with a yelp, his head vanishing behind the ring of desks. The chair appeared in the center of the lecture hall. From behind a shimmering veil of illusion, Professor Dan emerged. He held a card in his hand that looked almost like a playing card, like the Arcana Friar Clef had used to open the tunnel to the Arcana Institute. But this card had a picture of the chair upon it. "[[[SCP-1609\|Arcana MDCIX]]]," he said, holding the card up. "The Roaming Chair. It responds to its binder's whim, travels to where it is needed. An Arcana of the artificer's type, though usable by any no matter their Class. Useful, whenever near high areas, for assassination. An equalizer, for those who cannot drink of the Phlegm, cannot hear the Social Fire, cannot embrace the Burning Hollow, cannot scale the Sorrow Fall." Ashewort Nowak stood up shakily, looking rather pale. I felt the air around him growing still and tense, the choleric power of the Burning Hollow seeping from his pores. "How dare you!" he spat. "When my father hears about this--" "Yes, yes, I'm sure Damien Nowak will have some choice words for me," Professor Dan said. "Doubtless some inspiring screed about how our world is impure and such and how we must rail against the Fundamentum from within. You know, it's a wonder they aren't planning to have you on the front lines, a battlemage bloodline from a troublesome family. Ashewort, was it?" Ashewort shifted uncomfortably. I almost felt bad for him, except he clearly deserved it. The power in the air faded, and the winds resumed. "Let this be your first lesson," Professor Dan said. "Whenever you enter an unfamiliar space -- when you enter the lair of a hostile Arcanist or Witch -- always be on your guard. They know their space far better than you, and it is hubris to believe otherwise. And do your research. Knowledge is always an enviable advantage, and often a fatal one." He smiled at us all. The class was rapt in attention, which was odd for ten year olds. But he clapped, breaking our reverie. "And I'm afraid that's the most interesting thing I can teach you in today's lesson. The rest of it, by no choice of my own, will be boring things. Book learning. Old Coghead wants me teaching you the theory of the higher forms of war." Professor Dan waved his Arcana, and the chair returned to Ashewort Nowak, who settled in it uncomfortably. The Professor flicked his hand, the Arcana wisping away into the empyrean, and another chair appeared before him. He sat in the chair backwards, facing us, leaning his arms on its back. "You all know by now that the universe is divided into four great categories," he said. "The first among equals the Merchant-Orators of the Bloody Humor, the Social Fire. Second among equals, the Scholar-Priests of the Bilious Humor, the Sorrow Fall. Third among equals, the Warrior-Poets of the Choleric Humor, the Burning Hollow. But lowest of them all, without any doubt, the Serf-Byblows of the Phlegmatic Humor, the Cold Reserve." My friends winced, as did I. Professor Dan went on. He didn't care. "They say when Great Urizen split the universe from Zoa, when the Second Hytoth ended and the Third began, he broke the elements of the old world imperfect. The Social Fire and the Burning Hollow are the mingled children of Fire and Wind; the same for Sorrow Fall and Cold Reserve to Earth and Water." I already knew all of this, of course. Friar Clef had taught it to me with no small amount of emphasis. "These, of course, are spoken of in myths and legends throughout Xerophylla," Professor Dan said. "They say many things in taverns and among the peasantry, not all of them true. If you heard what they said about the Fundamentum, they would tell you uncountable lies. That we fuel our war machines with the death of newborn babes. That in the far west, beyond the edge of the horizon, we have a great mecharcana that can churn out endless homunculi and remake the world. That we tried to slay the Night itself." He paused. "All ridiculous. I am about to tell you the truth of the Fundamentum's power." "The universe is split in four by nature.There are four elements, four humors upon which reality stands. But to build a stable foundation for a chair, you only need three legs." "Let me tell you a parable about one of the strongest weapons in the Fundamentum's arsenal," Professor Dan said. "The Tripillar Configuration. This principle is behind the strongest things the Fundamentum can deploy." Again, he pulled the Arcana out, perhaps from his sleeve -- and three chairs jumped to equidistant points around them, a crystal flask upon each. "The first pillar is Sanctity. The first pillar is a conduit to divinity. Without this seed-source of your power, the construction cannot form. An Arcana is stolen fire from the gods, numen thieved from those so large they will hardly notice it missing." He walked over to one of the crystal flasks and held it aloft, so that we might all see it. There was a simple yellow powder within it. "This is sulfur. The soul, whether yours or another's." "The second pillar is Control. Your Control is what keeps the power from overwhelming you. It is the dividing line between what we practice and the black arts of Darkest Evropa, the Wild Fey, and Witches. They are ruled by their power. This is salt. The body." "The third pillar is Paradigm. The Paradigm is the defining shape through which the power flows. It allows you to chain reality with temporary rules, so long as you are within the Tripillar Configuration. This is the human spirit. The power of reconfiguration. Mutability. Transformation. Quicksilver. The catalyst, so that the whole is more than the sum of its parts." At the time, I had thought that this was the entirety of the universe -- that the Four humors were like the four corners of the wind, and the Three Pillars the foundation by which we controlled them. Oh, how naive I was. An ancient poet once said that there were things in heaven and earth not dreamt of in my philosophy. It was naive to think the world could be split in four, and ruled by three. There were the Five Phases of Transitional Change, known to the ancient Xia of the Far Sunrise. Beyond that, the Six Autophagic Archons of Yaldaboath-who-was-Wan, constantly devouring and renewing themselves in vain and futile attempts to steal apotheosis, and beyond that the Seven Dead Gods between the Second Hytoth and the Third and their Seven Brides with Scarlet Veils-- Outwards and outwards the universe spiraled beyond the bounds of my youthful imagination. Some even whispered that of the gods, there were two thousand and two score and ten, who burned with stolen light and left creation hollow-- But even inwards there was depth beyond imagining, powers that were intended for control that I hadn't imagined. There was the forever-duality of He-Who-Made-Light and She-Who-Made-Dark, that the Pillars were forged to constrict-- And even deeper, at the heart of the eternal pointless war of all things, was the One. The source of all things. Where divine and man united. At the heart of all creation, the Christ. Upon which the world turned. The one path to Salvation. I knew nothing of this at the time. "The third lesson: things are not always as they seem." The back of my head buzzed. I remembered the pranks Friar Clef had pulled on me back at the Phlegmfont Abbey, his oft-malicious pranks meant to hone my reflexes. I surged to my feet, the strength of Christphlegm within me. Professor Dan snapped his fingers, and every chair in the lecture hall vanished from beneath their occupants. There was a cacophony of surprised yelps and cries of pain as all the students fell. I heard a burst of particularly vibrant cursing from Li. Only I and Ashewort remained standing. The chairs appeared in the center of the lecture hall, arranging themselves in a tesselated tower that reached towards the heavens, like the Tower of Babel in the Holy Bible of Christ. I squinted at it, wondering how this mischief was made, and I was rewarded with the sight of a twisted cord of palest grey, the Arcanic thread Professor Dan was using to weave his way about his room. "Never," he said, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere, "fall for a trap that your comrades have fallen for. Use their failures as a lesson. And never fall for the same trap twice."" I could see him atop the tower of chairs, and I wondered how his voice had carried so far. "You," he said, pointing to Ashewort Nowak. "You learned your lesson quick enough. Good. That'll keep you alive. The front lines can always use more Hollowcanists." "And you," he said, pointing at me. "What's your name?" "James, sir," I said. "Wrong!" he shouted. "Your name is a secret! Don't just go out giving your name to anyone who asks for it, especially if you don't know why! They could use it to commit fraud! They could slip behind the ranks of our troops and pretend to be you! They could steal from your bank vaults!" He jumped down from the tower of chairbel, a feather falling Arcana glittering about his feet. "Though, I suppose, it's fine that you said your name here. I am your professor, after all, and you, James No-Name, were already known to me." I was used to such absurdities in presentation and lesson. I had been raised by Friar Clef. "Vigilance," he said. "Both in body and in mind. Your instincts, James, are strong. I could see you living through your tribulations and coming here to train others in your golden years." He looked around the hall once more. "The rest of you have much learning to do, and not enough time in which to do it. You are here at the institute to learn and to grow -- but should there be need of it, you could be called to battle -- even now." And yet even despite that promise, it was but an anticlimax. It was by far the most interesting lesson we'd had in all of two weeks, yet I grew restless, as did my fellows. Two weeks had passed, and we had not been taught any of the Institute's famed Arcana. I wondered, perhaps, if they thought we were unready or undisciplined or unloyal. Little did I know that soon our Professors would soon be reminded that dangers lurked even in the Institute's walls. ------ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes\| previous-url=/the-arcana-institute-of-xerophylla\| previous-title=The Arcana Institute of Xerophylla \| next-url=/names-stricken\| next-title=Names Stricken \| hub-url=/qui-lactis\| hub-title=NIGHTFALL: QUI LACTIS ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/more-by:lordxvnv">:scp-wiki:more-by:lordxvnv</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== Images: * [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anatomy_Lecture_Theatre_top_row.jpg Anatomy Lecture Theatre top row] by Annie Caldwell, Licensed under Creative Commons 4.0 SA, modified by LORDXVNV ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-14T04:02:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "doctor-asheworth", "doctor-dan", "doctor-light", "doctor-lillihammer", "doctor-thereven", "doctor-wettle", "nightfall", "tale" ]	Three Lessons for Endless Night - SCP Foundation	37	[ "the-phlegmfont", "the-road-to-arcana", "scp-1609", "the-arcana-institute-of-xerophylla", "qui-lactis", "names-stricken", "lordxvnv", "scp-6987", "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", "taking-the-reinz", "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", "we-live-in-a-society", "cheesus", "but-never-trees", "ghost-signal", "thereven-germination", "deusvolt", "spc-6500", "spc-1981", "spc-105", "spc-179", "spc-1258", "hist-327-comparative-mythology-of-mekhanism-and-naelkae", "project-proposal-2007-012", "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", "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-2-tales-edition", "nightfall-hub", "qui-lactis" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/three-lessons-for-endless-night/arcanaschool.jpg" ]	1446180768	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three-lessons-for-endless-night
through-these-halls	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: right;"> <div style="margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -10px;"> <p><sup>by <a href="/strange-matter-writes">Strange Matter</a></sup></p> </div> </div> <p>Down the hall, the soldier makes thunderous marches<br/> Holding within is the brewing storm in his bones.<br/> His black armor clouds the sparks of the devil within<br/> With attempts to summon an angel for guidance.</p> <p>Through the window holds an unyielding beast.<br/> He eyes the soldier, sniffing the demons he contains.<br/> With the many voices, his words lit a sun to wash the<br/> Clouds away. A brother always has a brother’s back.</p> <p>Ahead is the ghost. Her scars writhe and thirsts for blood.<br/> She sings her, “Vivir mi vida”, while she pops a drop of<br/> painkillers in her system. Morning and evening is a constant<br/> Battle with her screaming body. How she wishes to rip it out.</p> <p>The angel watches all. Every staff to every monster<br/> That their cages can hold. A library of plains, passions<br/> Pleasures, and pains. She promises them that one day<br/> She will bring them into the light. If she can fool them.</p> <p>The Director of Site-63 makes tabs. To the soldier and his<br/> Machine body and vicious mind. To the beast and<br/> The hunger he shares with a greater lion. To the ghost<br/> And the scarlet hue in her eyes. Angels have long left.</p> <p>Through these halls, they pass by each other. Their lives<br/> Akin to a confluence. It would be the unified reason as to<br/> Why they continue to work in The Foundation. Because no<br/> One deserves the burdens they carry alone in the dark.</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="/through-these-halls">Through These Halls</a>" by Strange Matter, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/through-these-halls">https://scpwiki.com/through-these-halls</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]] [[div style="margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -10px;"]] ^^by [[[Strange Matter-writes\|Strange Matter]]]^^ [[/div]] [[/>]] Down the hall, the soldier makes thunderous marches Holding within is the brewing storm in his bones. His black armor clouds the sparks of the devil within With attempts to summon an angel for guidance. Through the window holds an unyielding beast. He eyes the soldier, sniffing the demons he contains. With the many voices, his words lit a sun to wash the Clouds away. A brother always has a brother’s back. Ahead is the ghost. Her scars writhe and thirsts for blood. She sings her, “Vivir mi vida”, while she pops a drop of painkillers in her system. Morning and evening is a constant Battle with her screaming body. How she wishes to rip it out. The angel watches all. Every staff to every monster That their cages can hold. A library of plains, passions Pleasures, and pains. She promises them that one day She will bring them into the light. If she can fool them. The Director of Site-63 makes tabs. To the soldier and his Machine body and vicious mind. To the beast and The hunger he shares with a greater lion. To the ghost And the scarlet hue in her eyes. Angels have long left. Through these halls, they pass by each other. Their lives Akin to a confluence. It would be the unified reason as to Why they continue to work in The Foundation. Because no One deserves the burdens they carry alone in the dark. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Strange Matter]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-11-29T03:21:00	[ "_licensebox", "poetry", "tale" ]	Through These Halls - SCP Foundation	2	[ "strange-matter-writes", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451600551	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/through-these-halls
thump-thump-tick-tock	<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>Thump-Thump, Tick-Tock</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><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 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>Somewhere in the Golan Heights, Modern-Day Syria</strong><br/> <em>A long time ago</em></p> </div> <br/> The last rays of a setting sun struggle through the thick canopy of forest, doing their best to illuminate the base of the rocky cliff. Vivian walks alongside the cliff. They have no need for the sunlight, and their heavy steps maintain a constant, perfect rhythm. Their eyes are fixed on the outcropping of stone, and they stop as they see a thin strip of dark shadow amongst the white rock. It is a narrow crevice, barely fifteen centimeters wide, and leads to a place the light does not reach. <p>Vivian opens their third eye. It is made of glass and its lid is brass, situated at the forefront of their scalp. It sees translucent, crimson veins, pulsating sleepily with a rhythmic beat of their own on the shadowed rock. They reach out a brass arm to touch them. The veins do not react, remaining dormant. They close the eye, and enter the crevice.</p> <p>The stone presses on them from all sides, scraping skin and metal plating alike. Step by step, they inch their way through it, their pace uniform, almost robotic. The ever-ticking clock in their brain tells them ten minutes have passed. Then fifteen. Then twenty, and finally they reach their destination. The chamber is small and round, barely three meters across. Its smooth, domed ceiling is completely covered by carvings of Yaldabaoth - an incomprehensible mass of flesh devoid of order or reason, its thousand mouths open wide in endless hunger. The walls depict a robed figure on an elevated outcrop of rock, raising his arms to confront the voracious sky. A ritual array has been etched into the floor, six circles connected by a web of curving, asymmetric lines feeding into one another like arteries and veins.</p> <p>Vivian draws a vial of blood from their pocket. They pour it into the miniature canals, bracing themself as they watch it flow through the channels. When it fills the innermost ring, it flares and the room explodes in hateful red light. A human spine shoots out from the floor, crackling with energy as skeletal limbs and a ribcage form around it. A skull materializes on top as crimson strands of muscle race across the bones and wrap themselves around them. Eyes appear in empty holes, and layers of skin begin to spread over the new body, covering organs which had not existed a moment before. The form of a man is clear now, black hair sprouting from the scalp and falling to the shoulders. Silky red robes weave themselves into being around him. Finally, when his tongue completes itself inside his mouth, he cries out in an ancient language Vivian knows intimately.</p> <p>“I am Karcist Sorusk, Chosen of Ion! Praise <em>Kalmaktama</em>, the Deathless Empire!” He looks to his summoner. Vivian knows his eyes to be unfocused, still adjusting to the waking world after centuries of slumber. “Why have you woken me? Is it time? Has the Grand Karcist returned to us at last, to tear down the false civilizations and remake the world-”</p> <p>Three shots ring out, reverberating through the air not as the booming of gunpowder, but as the chiming of metal against metal. Three slugs of beryllium-bronze embed themselves into the Karcist’s brain. He topples backwards, but the clockwork warrior sees his skull already mending, skin knitting itself across the wounds. They fire three more blessed bullets at the fleshcrafter, the sound echoing like the tolls of a bell.</p> <p>“Your empire is dead, Karcist. All that is left are the seeds of a cancer in remission.” Vivian retrieves a glass bottle from a cavity in their metallic thigh. “I will not allow a single one to finish its gestation.” They hurl it at the Karcist, just as pink tendrils of flesh rip through his robes and reach for them, razor sharp teeth growing on them like spines. The bottle shatters against his body, and he screams as it is instantly engulfed in the jade tongues of Greek Fire. Vivian drops their revolver and throws themself backwards, striking at the closest tentacle with their brass arm.</p> <p>They see the green flames climb the tendrils, reducing them to ash before their eyes. They hear the Karcist cough and convulse, his vocal cords disintegrating. They smell the horrible stench of burnt meat, amplified a hundredfold in the subterranean chamber. They stand up and open their third eye, watching the spectral veins retreat along the walls into the phantasmal heart within the Karcist’s body. It beats one final time, before slowly fading away into nothing, until all that is left is Vivian, and the ticking of their own clockwork heart.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Moscow, Russia</strong><br/> <em>October, 2021</em></p> </div> <br/> Vivian sits at the corner of the bar, pretending to drink their glass. They are bundled in thick trousers, gloves, and a heavy coat, its hood obscuring the patchwork texture of their head from mundane eyes. Every thirty seconds, their eyes shift from the wall-mounted television streaming soccer to the black door behind the counter. They watch it carefully, noting the three that had entered the room beyond in the past hour - A bald man with a cyclop’s skull tattoo on his exposed shoulder, a muscular woman with her blonde hair in a ponytail, and a short man with a graying beard. Vivian knows what lies beyond that door - a vile stash of <a href="/scp-5407">Nectar</a>, most of it still active despite the <a href="/scp-6500">Impasse</a>. The establishment is owned by the <a href="/scp-2408">Hunter’s Black Lodge</a>, terror of the Moscow underworld. <p>“…the formerly clandestine organization known as the SCP Foundation has announced its dissolution and the formation…”</p> <p>Vivian’s eyes widen and snap to the television. The background chatter of the soccer game is gone, replaced with an emergency news flash. The newswoman appears to be just as stunned as they are, barely managing to relay the world-changing event without a stutter. Narrowing their eyes, they consider if this might be the work of an anartist, or the <a href="/vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub">media company</a> they heard rumors about. But anyone who might still have the power to cause such a thing would not use it to prank a small bar, even a front for the Black Lodge.</p> <p>“…On the international stage, Vanguard has already been attacked by another secret organization, calling itself the Global Occult Coalition…”</p> <p>A crowd forms around the television screen, and Vivian finds their view obscured by a wall of heads and coats. They stand up to glance at the black door, and see the three people from before head towards the gathering. Instinctively, Vivian wills their third eye to open, and realizes with a start that, this time, it had obeyed. They observe the ghostly veins wrapped around the three’s bodies - thicker and denser around the tattooed man’s chest, but weaker on the other two. They flex the fingers of their brass hand, feeling the numbness they had felt in it these past few months slowly dissipate. They almost smile.</p> <p>Vivian closes their third eye and carefully moves behind the Black Lodge grunts, who are still entranced by the ongoing broadcast. They take off the glove from their metallic hand, and in a flash of movement deliver a powerful blow to the tattooed man’s nape. There is a snap of breaking bone, and as he falls with a cry of shock, their other arm snatches the pistol from his belt. The other two spin to face them, reaching for their weapons, but Vivian empties the magazine into the blonde woman’s face while grabbing the short man’s wrist. He tries to fire his own pistol, but Vivian squeezes his wrist until it breaks with a splash of blood, bringing him to his knees as his gun clatters to the floor. For good measure, they pick it up and fire at the three until it clicks dry, leaving them to bleed on the floor.</p> <p>Around them, people are panicking, but their terrified screams do not bother Vivian. Their senses feel sharper, their objective clear. Their clock ticks steadily again.</p> <p>Their gaze turns to the counter, where the bartender is desperately trying to load a double-barreled shotgun. They throw the two empty pistols at him, one hitting his chest while the other finds his forehead. He falls over backwards into a chair, which collapses on top of him in turn. Vivian rushes to the counter and vaults over it easily, prying the shotgun from the barman’s hands. They finish loading it and glance back at the grunts, sprawled in various states of pain and regeneration. With a deep breath, Vivian steps over to the black door, and kicks it open.</p> <p>The storage room beyond is spacious, packed full with wooden crates and cardboard boxes. It also contains a towering, vaguely humanoid construct of flesh, with deathly pale skin and claws of sharpened bone. Its head scrapes against the ceiling as it charges towards the intruder with a guttural howl of animalistic rage. Clutching the shotgun tightly, Vivian ducks to avoid a ravenous swipe to their head and dashes to the side, positioning themself so that an open box full of liquor is behind the sentinel. It turns and lunges at them, claws outstretched. Vivian fires twice, blasting the construct with shotgun shells. It staggers for a moment, and Vivian slams their metal leg against its knee while swinging their weapon like a club at its head. It loses its balance and falls into the boxes behind it. The bottles are instantly crushed under its weight, filling its back with shards of glass and spilling alcohol in a shallow puddle around it.</p> <p>Vivian draws a zippo lighter from their coat pocket, flicks it open and presses the flame to the growing pool. The ethanol ignites, and the fire spreads quickly along the liquid, reaching for the cardboard and lashing at the goliath’s exposed flesh. As it struggles to rise, Vivian opens their third eye and scans the room. The Nectar is hidden in plain sight - a group of featureless crates amongst the rest - but the phantom veins betray their contents. Vivian discards the shotgun and gathers the drugs in their arms, before casting them into the growing flames.</p> <p>Much of the beast’s flesh has melted off, exposing the thick bones beneath. New tissue flows from them, desperately trying to repair the damage, but the fire has now grown too large and too strong. Vivian waits until they catch a whiff of burnt Nectar before exiting the room through a back door. The freezing night air caresses their face as they break into a jog down Moscow’s dark alleys. They had completed their mission, just like they had done so many times before, but doubt still creeps into Vivian’s mind when they think of the broadcast. The secretive, mystical world they have been a part of for so long is now laid bare for all to see, and they can’t help but think -</p> <p>What happens now?</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>"<a href="/a-sarkic-by-any-other-name">Karcist Varis</a>, I’m going to address the elephant in the room, so to speak. Your people - the Nälkä - have been accused of performing horrific acts, including ritual cannibalism and human sacrifices, as part of their religious practices. How do you respond to such claims, especially in cases where the evidence is undeniable?”</p> <p>A wave of murmurs spreads throughout the crowd, but the Karcist does not seem phased, smiling instead. Vanguard's part educational campaign part press conference is drawing to a close - eighty-seven minutes out of ninety - Vivian knows.</p> <p>“Ah, a fantastic question, and one I have been asked frequently. The Spanish Inquisition tortured and killed countless innocents in the name of God, yet even then, most Christians would not murder their fellow countrymen for being “heretics”. Today, hundreds of thousands of my Nälkä brethren are leading ordinary lives like any other person, simply following a different faith. I speak for these people, Nälkä is not a cult practicing human sacrifice, it is a religion centered on our strength as individuals, and how we can use it to help our community. It is about breaking chains of oppression and abuse. The story of our Grand Karcist Ion is one of humanity finding the strength to rise and face their creator, who views them as nothing more than food."</p> <p>"But power can corrupt the Nälkä just as it can corrupt any other people. There are still those who believe in the revival of the Deathless Empire, those who have used my faith as an excuse to manipulate, control, and outright kill others. To these I say : Grand Karcist Ion did not dream of a conquered world, brought to its knees. He dreamed of a world united - so come, join us, that we might build a better future in his image!'</p> <p>Varis finishes his speech, and exits the stage while the crowd erupts with applause. One of the announcers heads to the podium, thanks the Karcist, and begins to give an explanation of the upcoming panels that would be presented later that afternoon. Vivian stands up and walks over to the refreshments table at the corner of the auditorium, stretching their legs.</p> <p>“I did not expect to find a follower of Mekhane in my audience, but seeing you here gives me hope.” Vivian almost chokes on their water when Varis’s voice comes from behind them. They take a moment to mask their surprise before they turn around to face him. He regards them with a warm smile, and says, “What brings you here?”</p> <p>“I do not know what to believe in anymore.” The words tumble out of Vivian’s mouth before they realize it. All of their thoughts and emotions of the past months come rushing in in a torrent. “I was brought up to despise you, shown the horrors the likes of Adytum’s Wake and the Lodge had committed. I made it my crusade, to purge the world of the cancers that fester within it. But now…”</p> <p>They let the words linger in the air, Varis does not interrupt.</p> <p>“Now, one of the sainted Klavigar, whom I regarded as the greatest evil, is <a href="/the-first-occult-flame-war">acting like a child on social media</a>. The dormant figurehead of the Black Lodge is awake, and claims to simply want a good fight. Something that claims to be my god’s consciousness is harassing people on the internet. So many things I did not know existed have revealed themselves, things that are in opposition to all I have ever known. Nothing… nothing makes sense anymore.”</p> <p>Vivian’s voice cracks, and they drink the rest of their glass, rapidly blinking away the tears that had formed in their eyes.</p> <p>“If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world rarely behaves rationally. Why not join Vanguard?” Varis reaches into his shirt pocket. Vivian takes a step back. “Help us shape the future? Now, more than ever, we need people like you. People who are willing to accept the new world for what it is, and to discard antiquated worldviews.”</p> <p>He takes out a green business card, and hands it towards Vivian. “And, of course, we could always use another Mekhanite on board.“ Hesitantly, they take the card, and walk away.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>The early morning sunlight shines behind Vivian as they stand in front of the Vanguard Lighthouse. The walls of the first floor are a criss-cross pattern of brass colored beams and glass, allowing them to see inside. Even at this hour, the Lighthouse beats with activity. Dozens of people are moving to and fro, talking to receptionists and disappearing into elevators. Vivian glances at the business card again. Their heart ticks in an unfluctuating rhythm.</p> <p>They make their decision.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <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="/thump-thump-tick-tock">Thump-Thump, Tick-Tock</a>" by UNCGriffin, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/thump-thump-tick-tock">https://scpwiki.com/thump-thump-tick-tock</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%20transparent.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aethris" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5158506); return false;"><img alt="Aethris" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5158506&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052668" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5158506)"/></a><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 Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500m">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: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; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"]]Thump-Thump, Tick-Tock[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[[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 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’"]] [[=]] Somewhere in the Golan Heights, Modern-Day Syria //A long time ago// [[/=]] The last rays of a setting sun struggle through the thick canopy of forest, doing their best to illuminate the base of the rocky cliff. Vivian walks alongside the cliff. They have no need for the sunlight, and their heavy steps maintain a constant, perfect rhythm. Their eyes are fixed on the outcropping of stone, and they stop as they see a thin strip of dark shadow amongst the white rock. It is a narrow crevice, barely fifteen centimeters wide, and leads to a place the light does not reach. Vivian opens their third eye. It is made of glass and its lid is brass, situated at the forefront of their scalp. It sees translucent, crimson veins, pulsating sleepily with a rhythmic beat of their own on the shadowed rock. They reach out a brass arm to touch them. The veins do not react, remaining dormant. They close the eye, and enter the crevice. The stone presses on them from all sides, scraping skin and metal plating alike. Step by step, they inch their way through it, their pace uniform, almost robotic. The ever-ticking clock in their brain tells them ten minutes have passed. Then fifteen. Then twenty, and finally they reach their destination. The chamber is small and round, barely three meters across. Its smooth, domed ceiling is completely covered by carvings of Yaldabaoth - an incomprehensible mass of flesh devoid of order or reason, its thousand mouths open wide in endless hunger. The walls depict a robed figure on an elevated outcrop of rock, raising his arms to confront the voracious sky. A ritual array has been etched into the floor, six circles connected by a web of curving, asymmetric lines feeding into one another like arteries and veins. Vivian draws a vial of blood from their pocket. They pour it into the miniature canals, bracing themself as they watch it flow through the channels. When it fills the innermost ring, it flares and the room explodes in hateful red light. A human spine shoots out from the floor, crackling with energy as skeletal limbs and a ribcage form around it. A skull materializes on top as crimson strands of muscle race across the bones and wrap themselves around them. Eyes appear in empty holes, and layers of skin begin to spread over the new body, covering organs which had not existed a moment before. The form of a man is clear now, black hair sprouting from the scalp and falling to the shoulders. Silky red robes weave themselves into being around him. Finally, when his tongue completes itself inside his mouth, he cries out in an ancient language Vivian knows intimately. “I am Karcist Sorusk, Chosen of Ion! Praise //Kalmaktama//, the Deathless Empire!” He looks to his summoner. Vivian knows his eyes to be unfocused, still adjusting to the waking world after centuries of slumber. “Why have you woken me? Is it time? Has the Grand Karcist returned to us at last, to tear down the false civilizations and remake the world-” Three shots ring out, reverberating through the air not as the booming of gunpowder, but as the chiming of metal against metal. Three slugs of beryllium-bronze embed themselves into the Karcist’s brain. He topples backwards, but the clockwork warrior sees his skull already mending, skin knitting itself across the wounds. They fire three more blessed bullets at the fleshcrafter, the sound echoing like the tolls of a bell. “Your empire is dead, Karcist. All that is left are the seeds of a cancer in remission.” Vivian retrieves a glass bottle from a cavity in their metallic thigh. “I will not allow a single one to finish its gestation.” They hurl it at the Karcist, just as pink tendrils of flesh rip through his robes and reach for them, razor sharp teeth growing on them like spines. The bottle shatters against his body, and he screams as it is instantly engulfed in the jade tongues of Greek Fire. Vivian drops their revolver and throws themself backwards, striking at the closest tentacle with their brass arm. They see the green flames climb the tendrils, reducing them to ash before their eyes. They hear the Karcist cough and convulse, his vocal cords disintegrating. They smell the horrible stench of burnt meat, amplified a hundredfold in the subterranean chamber. They stand up and open their third eye, watching the spectral veins retreat along the walls into the phantasmal heart within the Karcist’s body. It beats one final time, before slowly fading away into nothing, until all that is left is Vivian, and the ticking of their own clockwork heart. ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- [[=]] Moscow, Russia //October, 2021// [[/=]] Vivian sits at the corner of the bar, pretending to drink their glass. They are bundled in thick trousers, gloves, and a heavy coat, its hood obscuring the patchwork texture of their head from mundane eyes. Every thirty seconds, their eyes shift from the wall-mounted television streaming soccer to the black door behind the counter. They watch it carefully, noting the three that had entered the room beyond in the past hour - A bald man with a cyclop’s skull tattoo on his exposed shoulder, a muscular woman with her blonde hair in a ponytail, and a short man with a graying beard. Vivian knows what lies beyond that door - a vile stash of [[[ SCP-5407\|Nectar]]], most of it still active despite the [[[ SCP-6500\|Impasse]]]. The establishment is owned by the [[[ SCP-2408\|Hunter’s Black Lodge]]], terror of the Moscow underworld. “...the formerly clandestine organization known as the SCP Foundation has announced its dissolution and the formation…” Vivian’s eyes widen and snap to the television. The background chatter of the soccer game is gone, replaced with an emergency news flash. The newswoman appears to be just as stunned as they are, barely managing to relay the world-changing event without a stutter. Narrowing their eyes, they consider if this might be the work of an anartist, or the [[[ Vikander-Kneed Technical Media Hub\|media company ]]] they heard rumors about. But anyone who might still have the power to cause such a thing would not use it to prank a small bar, even a front for the Black Lodge. “...On the international stage, Vanguard has already been attacked by another secret organization, calling itself the Global Occult Coalition…” A crowd forms around the television screen, and Vivian finds their view obscured by a wall of heads and coats. They stand up to glance at the black door, and see the three people from before head towards the gathering. Instinctively, Vivian wills their third eye to open, and realizes with a start that, this time, it had obeyed. They observe the ghostly veins wrapped around the three’s bodies - thicker and denser around the tattooed man’s chest, but weaker on the other two. They flex the fingers of their brass hand, feeling the numbness they had felt in it these past few months slowly dissipate. They almost smile. Vivian closes their third eye and carefully moves behind the Black Lodge grunts, who are still entranced by the ongoing broadcast. They take off the glove from their metallic hand, and in a flash of movement deliver a powerful blow to the tattooed man’s nape. There is a snap of breaking bone, and as he falls with a cry of shock, their other arm snatches the pistol from his belt. The other two spin to face them, reaching for their weapons, but Vivian empties the magazine into the blonde woman’s face while grabbing the short man’s wrist. He tries to fire his own pistol, but Vivian squeezes his wrist until it breaks with a splash of blood, bringing him to his knees as his gun clatters to the floor. For good measure, they pick it up and fire at the three until it clicks dry, leaving them to bleed on the floor. Around them, people are panicking, but their terrified screams do not bother Vivian. Their senses feel sharper, their objective clear. Their clock ticks steadily again. Their gaze turns to the counter, where the bartender is desperately trying to load a double-barreled shotgun. They throw the two empty pistols at him, one hitting his chest while the other finds his forehead. He falls over backwards into a chair, which collapses on top of him in turn. Vivian rushes to the counter and vaults over it easily, prying the shotgun from the barman’s hands. They finish loading it and glance back at the grunts, sprawled in various states of pain and regeneration. With a deep breath, Vivian steps over to the black door, and kicks it open. The storage room beyond is spacious, packed full with wooden crates and cardboard boxes. It also contains a towering, vaguely humanoid construct of flesh, with deathly pale skin and claws of sharpened bone. Its head scrapes against the ceiling as it charges towards the intruder with a guttural howl of animalistic rage. Clutching the shotgun tightly, Vivian ducks to avoid a ravenous swipe to their head and dashes to the side, positioning themself so that an open box full of liquor is behind the sentinel. It turns and lunges at them, claws outstretched. Vivian fires twice, blasting the construct with shotgun shells. It staggers for a moment, and Vivian slams their metal leg against its knee while swinging their weapon like a club at its head. It loses its balance and falls into the boxes behind it. The bottles are instantly crushed under its weight, filling its back with shards of glass and spilling alcohol in a shallow puddle around it. Vivian draws a zippo lighter from their coat pocket, flicks it open and presses the flame to the growing pool. The ethanol ignites, and the fire spreads quickly along the liquid, reaching for the cardboard and lashing at the goliath’s exposed flesh. As it struggles to rise, Vivian opens their third eye and scans the room. The Nectar is hidden in plain sight - a group of featureless crates amongst the rest - but the phantom veins betray their contents. Vivian discards the shotgun and gathers the drugs in their arms, before casting them into the growing flames. Much of the beast’s flesh has melted off, exposing the thick bones beneath. New tissue flows from them, desperately trying to repair the damage, but the fire has now grown too large and too strong. Vivian waits until they catch a whiff of burnt Nectar before exiting the room through a back door. The freezing night air caresses their face as they break into a jog down Moscow’s dark alleys. They had completed their mission, just like they had done so many times before, but doubt still creeps into Vivian’s mind when they think of the broadcast. The secretive, mystical world they have been a part of for so long is now laid bare for all to see, and they can’t help but think - What happens now? ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- "[[[ A Sarkic by any other name\|Karcist Varis]]], I’m going to address the elephant in the room, so to speak. Your people - the Nälkä - have been accused of performing horrific acts, including ritual cannibalism and human sacrifices, as part of their religious practices. How do you respond to such claims, especially in cases where the evidence is undeniable?” A wave of murmurs spreads throughout the crowd, but the Karcist does not seem phased, smiling instead. Vanguard's part educational campaign part press conference is drawing to a close - eighty-seven minutes out of ninety - Vivian knows. “Ah, a fantastic question, and one I have been asked frequently. The Spanish Inquisition tortured and killed countless innocents in the name of God, yet even then, most Christians would not murder their fellow countrymen for being “heretics”. Today, hundreds of thousands of my Nälkä brethren are leading ordinary lives like any other person, simply following a different faith. I speak for these people, Nälkä is not a cult practicing human sacrifice, it is a religion centered on our strength as individuals, and how we can use it to help our community. It is about breaking chains of oppression and abuse. The story of our Grand Karcist Ion is one of humanity finding the strength to rise and face their creator, who views them as nothing more than food." "But power can corrupt the Nälkä just as it can corrupt any other people. There are still those who believe in the revival of the Deathless Empire, those who have used my faith as an excuse to manipulate, control, and outright kill others. To these I say : Grand Karcist Ion did not dream of a conquered world, brought to its knees. He dreamed of a world united - so come, join us, that we might build a better future in his image!' Varis finishes his speech, and exits the stage while the crowd erupts with applause. One of the announcers heads to the podium, thanks the Karcist, and begins to give an explanation of the upcoming panels that would be presented later that afternoon. Vivian stands up and walks over to the refreshments table at the corner of the auditorium, stretching their legs. “I did not expect to find a follower of Mekhane in my audience, but seeing you here gives me hope.” Vivian almost chokes on their water when Varis’s voice comes from behind them. They take a moment to mask their surprise before they turn around to face him. He regards them with a warm smile, and says, “What brings you here?” “I do not know what to believe in anymore.” The words tumble out of Vivian’s mouth before they realize it. All of their thoughts and emotions of the past months come rushing in in a torrent. “I was brought up to despise you, shown the horrors the likes of Adytum’s Wake and the Lodge had committed. I made it my crusade, to purge the world of the cancers that fester within it. But now…” They let the words linger in the air, Varis does not interrupt. “Now, one of the sainted Klavigar, whom I regarded as the greatest evil, is [[[ The First Occult Flame War\|acting like a child on social media]]]. The dormant figurehead of the Black Lodge is awake, and claims to simply want a good fight. Something that claims to be my god’s consciousness is harassing people on the internet. So many things I did not know existed have revealed themselves, things that are in opposition to all I have ever known. Nothing… nothing makes sense anymore.” Vivian’s voice cracks, and they drink the rest of their glass, rapidly blinking away the tears that had formed in their eyes. “If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the world rarely behaves rationally. Why not join Vanguard?” Varis reaches into his shirt pocket. Vivian takes a step back. “Help us shape the future? Now, more than ever, we need people like you. People who are willing to accept the new world for what it is, and to discard antiquated worldviews.” He takes out a green business card, and hands it towards Vivian. “And, of course, we could always use another Mekhanite on board.“ Hesitantly, they take the card, and walk away. ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- The early morning sunlight shines behind Vivian as they stand in front of the Vanguard Lighthouse. The walls of the first floor are a criss-cross pattern of brass colored beams and glass, allowing them to see inside. Even at this hour, the Lighthouse beats with activity. Dozens of people are moving to and fro, talking to receptionists and disappearing into elevators. Vivian glances at the business card again. Their heart ticks in an unfluctuating rhythm. They make their decision. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=UNCGriffin]] ===== > Filename: vanguard%20transparent.png > Author: [[user Aethris]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500m SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-05T21:25:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "action", "broken-god", "coldpostcon", "crime-fiction", "hunters-black-lodge", "no-return", "religious-fiction", "sarkic", "tale" ]	Thump-Thump, Tick-Tock - SCP Foundation	51	[ "no-return-hub", "scp-5407", "scp-6500", "scp-2408", "vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub", "a-sarkic-by-any-other-name", "the-first-occult-flame-war", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "scp-6500m" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "sarkicism-hub", "no-return-hub", "coldpostcon", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[]	1445398732	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/thump-thump-tick-tock
tick-tock-transmogrification	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Tick-Tock Transmogrification</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><strong>By:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ampyrsand" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7489489); return false;"><img alt="Ampyrsand" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7489489&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645250" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7489489)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ampyrsand" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7489489); return false;">Ampyrsand</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1690661852 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">29 Jul 2023 20:17</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> </div> <p>My grandfather is an impossibly old man. But in his entire life of almost 110 years, I don't think he's ever been farther than 20 miles from his hometown. He grew up where we all grew up: a tiny village in Baja, on the coast. The parish church calls him Father Dreadnaught, because he's as sturdy as a battleship even after all his years. But you wouldn't know it from looking at him; skinny and withered, you'd think he's already dying. Despite that, he hasn't gotten sick in thirty years; hell, I don't think he's aged a day since eighty. He's almost supernaturally healthy, in that way — after all, it's all but biblical canon around my town that old Father Dreadnaught's age is a miracle from God.</p> <p>Lately, though, he's self-isolated. I don't think he even hangs out with the other priests much nowadays. He barely goes to church anymore, just sits on the beach fishing. Sits there staring into the gulf for hours, like he's forgotten something there but can't remember what. I've gone with him; it's surreal. Sometimes I worry.</p> <hr/> <p>On my sixteenth birthday, my grandfather gave me a box. It was a gearbox within a box, full of screws and scraps, nuts and bolts and gears. Initially, I genuinely convince myself he thinks he's from the 1800s, because apparently <em>this</em> is what he thought I meant when I expressed an interest in technology.</p> <p>Then he explains, and I take back that thought. He says he fished it up in the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/twistedgears-kaktus-proposal">Gulf of California</a> — somehow. That it must mean something, must be some sign from God, because he'd been fishing in the same spot a million times before and never found anything of the sort. He knows I'm not quite that religious. Says to take it as more symbolic than anything. A memento of him, if nothing else.</p> <p>He says something like <em>cuidarlo de cerca</em>, I think — "look after it closely". He hands the box to me; the case is wooden with ornate bronze inlays, rusted from what looks like centuries of water damage. The thing weighs nearly a thousand pounds.</p> <hr/> <p>I'm visiting my childhood home because my parents are finally moving out. My former room has a uniquely dilapidated smell, every surface coated in a layer of dust. It's surely almost two inches thick, the room is tiny, and the two combined make the air almost unbreathable. I try to open a window, breaking the perfect stagnancy of the room maintained for who knows how many years and dispelling only more dust into my face.</p> <p>I shield my eyes from the torrent of dust coming from the opened window, turn my head, and in doing so look to the front corner of the room, left of the door. There, I see the box. I remember the box, and I remember that I had forgotten about the box.</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="640px-Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg" class="image" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/27/Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg/640px-Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>⠀</p> </div> </div> <p>Beginning to clean off the shelves, I remove a small, robotic figurine — a favorite childhood toy, I think it was called "Lazinator 6000" or something of that genre — from the shelf to brush off the dust beneath. Without thinking, I place the toy on the top surface of the box.</p> <p>In retrospect, I don't think it liked that.</p> <p>I keep cleaning the shelves, and after around five minutes I hear a faint humming sound from the box and look back. The toy is jittering around, shaking and shaking, and I hear it getting faster and faster, but I hadn't wound it up or anything. It falls over and off the top of the box. Must be broken or something.</p> <p>But then, I see the box open on it own. The lid almost comes flying off. On the inside, the little gears and tubes and metal joints stuck to the box's walls in stringy patterns like growing mold, as if they were trying to climb out of their confines. And they're all moving, if ever so slightly. Whatever sort of machine was in this box, whatever random agglomeration of turn-of-the-century mechanical spaghetti formed itself inside, it had deliberately climbed up the walls and opened the lid.</p> <p>Next, the robot figurine starts moving on its own again. It climbs almost three feet up the flat, vertical surface of the box and pulls itself up and drops into the inside. It <em>climbed</em>, with nothing to grip with and nothing to hold onto, <em>autonomously</em> — and reached the summit in four seconds flat. I'm frozen.</p> <p>And then it starts building. The robot picks itself up on the inside of the box while the gears and tubes and wires all attach themselves to it. They cling onto it and build onto eachother, giving rise to plated armor and six unruly appendages and a single wrought-iron crown. And before I know it, the once tiny robot action figure has <em>consumed</em> damn near everything in the box and it stands up and it's nearly my height.</p> <p>The automaton looks around the room like it's adjusting to its surroundings, and then it stares at me with its piercing lack of eyes and makes a terrible metallic screeching.</p> <p>I run downstairs and out the back door. The Thing breaks a window and drops down into the yard to follow me.</p> <p>I'm running as fast as I can out the driveway, but then I see it turn and I realize it's not interested in me. It's heading for the garage; and it's already there. Breaks down the steel door and consumes it too — I hear the crunching and clanging of metal as it incorporates the door into its monstrous form and grows a seventh tentacle-arm with the additional material. I stop running and freeze, God knows why.</p> <p>The Thing steps in and <em>eats</em> the entire goddamn garage and everything inside it in a matter of a minute or two. Gardening utensils break as rakes become claws and shovel heads are integrated as armor. An array of worn hedge clippers become gnashing teeth at the back of a macerating maw. Two lawnmowers buckle into the form of a stainless chariot and meld to the Thing's left shoulder. Metal fencing unfurls into a pair of misshapen, distended wings. A grilling stove is reshaped into a flamethrower. Rubber from spare tires wraps itself around joints and appendages. A power saw becomes the stinger on a scorpion's tail and revs up. The car's engine because a great and terrible Heart.</p> <p>I'm in awe of its titanic form. It's monstrous, but I'm still not running. <em>Jesus Christ, why wasn't I running?</em></p> <p>It's a colossus now, a juggernaut. A behemoth dreadnaught-angel. Nearly thirty feet tall and it looks like it weighs a hundred tons. It stands on a tripod like a mechanical spider revving and smoking; straining to move. Its torso, built around the ungodly engine, now has fourteen swollen arms and claws and tentacles of varying lengths, all confusedly grasping at the sky. Still no eyes. Four ragged wings; three stinging tails; two shoulder-mounted sets of godslayer's artillery. And one wrought-iron crown.</p> <p>Then, it turns away from me, lumbers out of the driveway, and marches east, toward the water. I watch it for a time.</p> <p>I think it was going back into the Gulf.</p> <p><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="/tick-tock-transmogrification">Tick-Tock Transmogrification</a>" by Ampyrsand, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tick-tock-transmogrification">https://scpwiki.com/tick-tock-transmogrification</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> Ha Ha Toy – Tin Wind Up – Planet Robot – Chrome Version – Close Up.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> D J Shin<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg">https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[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:toggle-sidebar">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar</a>]] [[div class="anchor"]] [[div class="authorbox"]] [[module ListPages name="="]] \|\|~ %%title%% \|\| \|\|= By: %%created_by_linked%% \|\| \|\|~ Published on %%created_at\|%d %b %Y%% \|\| [[/module]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] My grandfather is an impossibly old man. But in his entire life of almost 110 years, I don't think he's ever been farther than 20 miles from his hometown. He grew up where we all grew up: a tiny village in Baja, on the coast. The parish church calls him Father Dreadnaught, because he's as sturdy as a battleship even after all his years. But you wouldn't know it from looking at him; skinny and withered, you'd think he's already dying. Despite that, he hasn't gotten sick in thirty years; hell, I don't think he's aged a day since eighty. He's almost supernaturally healthy, in that way -- after all, it's all but biblical canon around my town that old Father Dreadnaught's age is a miracle from God. Lately, though, he's self-isolated. I don't think he even hangs out with the other priests much nowadays. He barely goes to church anymore, just sits on the beach fishing. Sits there staring into the gulf for hours, like he's forgotten something there but can't remember what. I've gone with him; it's surreal. Sometimes I worry. ------ On my sixteenth birthday, my grandfather gave me a box. It was a gearbox within a box, full of screws and scraps, nuts and bolts and gears. Initially, I genuinely convince myself he thinks he's from the 1800s, because apparently //this// is what he thought I meant when I expressed an interest in technology. Then he explains, and I take back that thought. He says he fished it up in the [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/twistedgears-kaktus-proposal\|Gulf of California]]] -- somehow. That it must mean something, must be some sign from God, because he'd been fishing in the same spot a million times before and never found anything of the sort. He knows I'm not quite that religious. Says to take it as more symbolic than anything. A memento of him, if nothing else. He says something like //cuidarlo de cerca//, I think -- "look after it closely". He hands the box to me; the case is wooden with ornate bronze inlays, rusted from what looks like centuries of water damage. The thing weighs nearly a thousand pounds. ------ I'm visiting my childhood home because my parents are finally moving out. My former room has a uniquely dilapidated smell, every surface coated in a layer of dust. It's surely almost two inches thick, the room is tiny, and the two combined make the air almost unbreathable. I try to open a window, breaking the perfect stagnancy of the room maintained for who knows how many years and dispelling only more dust into my face. I shield my eyes from the torrent of dust coming from the opened window, turn my head, and in doing so look to the front corner of the room, left of the door. There, I see the box. I remember the box, and I remember that I had forgotten about the box. [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name=https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/27/Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg/640px-Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg \| align=right \| width=300px \| height=180px \| caption=⠀ ]] Beginning to clean off the shelves, I remove a small, robotic figurine -- a favorite childhood toy, I think it was called "Lazinator 6000" or something of that genre -- from the shelf to brush off the dust beneath. Without thinking, I place the toy on the top surface of the box. In retrospect, I don't think it liked that. I keep cleaning the shelves, and after around five minutes I hear a faint humming sound from the box and look back. The toy is jittering around, shaking and shaking, and I hear it getting faster and faster, but I hadn't wound it up or anything. It falls over and off the top of the box. Must be broken or something. But then, I see the box open on it own. The lid almost comes flying off. On the inside, the little gears and tubes and metal joints stuck to the box's walls in stringy patterns like growing mold, as if they were trying to climb out of their confines. And they're all moving, if ever so slightly. Whatever sort of machine was in this box, whatever random agglomeration of turn-of-the-century mechanical spaghetti formed itself inside, it had deliberately climbed up the walls and opened the lid. Next, the robot figurine starts moving on its own again. It climbs almost three feet up the flat, vertical surface of the box and pulls itself up and drops into the inside. It //climbed//, with nothing to grip with and nothing to hold onto, //autonomously// -- and reached the summit in four seconds flat. I'm frozen. And then it starts building. The robot picks itself up on the inside of the box while the gears and tubes and wires all attach themselves to it. They cling onto it and build onto eachother, giving rise to plated armor and six unruly appendages and a single wrought-iron crown. And before I know it, the once tiny robot action figure has //consumed// damn near everything in the box and it stands up and it's nearly my height. The automaton looks around the room like it's adjusting to its surroundings, and then it stares at me with its piercing lack of eyes and makes a terrible metallic screeching. I run downstairs and out the back door. The Thing breaks a window and drops down into the yard to follow me. I'm running as fast as I can out the driveway, but then I see it turn and I realize it's not interested in me. It's heading for the garage; and it's already there. Breaks down the steel door and consumes it too -- I hear the crunching and clanging of metal as it incorporates the door into its monstrous form and grows a seventh tentacle-arm with the additional material. I stop running and freeze, God knows why. The Thing steps in and //eats// the entire goddamn garage and everything inside it in a matter of a minute or two. Gardening utensils break as rakes become claws and shovel heads are integrated as armor. An array of worn hedge clippers become gnashing teeth at the back of a macerating maw. Two lawnmowers buckle into the form of a stainless chariot and meld to the Thing's left shoulder. Metal fencing unfurls into a pair of misshapen, distended wings. A grilling stove is reshaped into a flamethrower. Rubber from spare tires wraps itself around joints and appendages. A power saw becomes the stinger on a scorpion's tail and revs up. The car's engine because a great and terrible Heart. I'm in awe of its titanic form. It's monstrous, but I'm still not running. //Jesus Christ, why wasn't I running?// It's a colossus now, a juggernaut. A behemoth dreadnaught-angel. Nearly thirty feet tall and it looks like it weighs a hundred tons. It stands on a tripod like a mechanical spider revving and smoking; straining to move. Its torso, built around the ungodly engine, now has fourteen swollen arms and claws and tentacles of varying lengths, all confusedly grasping at the sky. Still no eyes. Four ragged wings; three stinging tails; two shoulder-mounted sets of godslayer's artillery. And one wrought-iron crown. Then, it turns away from me, lumbers out of the driveway, and marches east, toward the water. I watch it for a time. I think it was going back into the Gulf. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: Ha Ha Toy – Tin Wind Up – Planet Robot – Chrome Version – Close Up.jpg > Author: D J Shin > License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 > Source: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [!-- CSS disabled until further analysis can be done Why are entire blocks of other theme's CSS copied here wholesale? 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} .sidebox::before, .sidebox::after{ content: " "; position: absolute; right: 0; } .sidebox::before{ width: 0; height: 0; top: calc(50% - .75rem); border-top: .75rem solid transparent; border-bottom: .75rem solid transparent; border-right: .75rem solid var(--accentColor); z-index: 10; transition: border .1s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox::after{ width: 100%; max-width: .75rem; height: 100%; max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); top: 0; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); z-index: -1; transition: box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, max-width .5s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox > { opacity: 0; -webkit-transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out .2s; -o-transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out .2s; transition: opacity .2s ease-in-out .2s; } .sidebox:hover{ overflow: visible; -webkit-clip-path: inset(-.125rem -.25rem 0 0); clip-path: inset(-.125rem -.25rem 0 0); -webkit-transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; -o-transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; transition: color .5s ease-in-out .2s, right .5s ease-in-out .1s, clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-clip-path .5s ease-in-out .1s, -webkit-box-shadow .5s ease-in-out .1s; } .sidebox:hover::before{ border-top: 0 solid transparent; border-bottom: 0 solid transparent; } .sidebox:hover::after{ max-width: 100%; right: 0; } .sidebox:hover > { opacity: 1; } } @media (max-width: 768px){ .sidebox, .sidebox:hover{ right: calc(((100vw - (100% - 3rem)) / 2) * -1 + 1rem); } } @media (max-width: 1280px){ .authorbox{ display: none; visibility: hidden; } } /* -------- GENERAL -------- / :root{ --accentColor: hsl(0, 100%, 30%); --vivid-lime-green: hsl(112, 77%, 48%); } body{ color: hsl(255,255,255); word-break: unset; } #search-top-box-input, #search-top-box-input:hover, #search-top-box-input:focus, #search-top-box-form input[type=submit], #search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:hover, #search-top-box-form input[type=submit]:focus, #top-bar ul li ul, #side-bar .side-block, .page-rate-widget-box, .scp-image-block{ box-shadow: none; } / -------- COLLAPSIBLES -------- / .collapsible-block-link { font-size: 120%; font-weight: bold; } / Licensebox Collapsible / .licensebox { text-align: center; } .licensebox blockquote, .licensebox div.blockquote { text-align: left; } / -------- INFO BAR -------- / body { --barColour: hsl(0, 89%, 18%); } .u-faq { display: none; } .info-container .collapsible-block-link { font-size: 100%; } .info-container div.collapsible-block-content { padding: 0 .5em 30px; } .info-container div.collapsible-block-content .wiki-content-table, .footer-wikiwalk-nav .collapsible-block .wiki-content-table { width: 90%; } / -------- INFO PANE -------- / .creditRate{ margin-right: 0 !important; } .rate-box-with-credit-button{ border-radius: 0 !important; box-shadow: none !important; } .creditButton p a:hover, .creditButtonStandalone p a:hover{ color: var(--vivid-lime-green) !important; } div.credit.first .wiki-content-table { width: 100%; } / -------- PAGE RATING -------- / .page-rate-widget-box{ margin-right: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box, div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points{ border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel, .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover{ border-radius: 0 !important; } / -------- FORMATTING \| [GENERAL] -------- / #page-content h1, #page-content h2, #page-content h3, #page-content h4, #page-content h5, #page-content h6{ display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: center; margin-bottom: .57em; line-height: 1.2; text-align: center; text-underline-offset: 25%; word-break: unset; } hr{ height: 0; margin: 1em 0; background-color: transparent; border-top: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 67%); } ol li{ margin: 0 0 1em; } ul{ margin:1em 0; } li, p{ line-height: 1.5; text-underline-offset: 30%; } .footnotes-footer, .bibitems{ padding: 0 0 .5em; } / -------- IMAGE BLOCK -------- / .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption{ font-size: 95%; line-height: 1.35; text-underline-offset: 30%; } .scp-image-block.block-right{ margin: 0 0 1em 2em; } / -------- CUSTOM DIV BLOCKS -------- / .raisa-header, .pink-header, .oracle-header, .cicapoco-header{ margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0 .5em; text-align: center; } .raisa-header{ / ---- RAISA Notice Header ---- / background: hsl(60, 65%, 85%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } .pink-header{ / ---- Pretty Header ---- / background: hsl(350, 100%, 85%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 4%, 36%); } .pink-header hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 4%, 36%); } .oracle-header{ / ---- SPC's 'From the Desk of ORACLE' Header ---- / color: hsl(208, 100%, 97%); background: hsl(208, 67%, 44%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .oracle-header hr{ border-color: hsl(208, 100%, 97%); } .img-resize img{ / ---- Header Icons (See Example Formatting) ---- / float: left; width: auto; height: 8em; margin: .5em; } .cicapoco-header{ / ---- SPC's RAISA-Equivalent Header ---- / background: lightblue; border: 1px solid hsl(195, 50%, 39%); } .cicapoco-header hr{ border-color: hsl(195, 50%, 39%); } .content-warning{ / ---- Content Warning ---- / width: 75%; margin: 1rem auto; padding: 0 1rem; background: white; border: 3px double black; text-align: center; } blockquote, / ---- Regular Quote Block ---- / div.blockquote{ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border: 3px double hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } blockquote table.wiki-content-table th, div.blockquote table.wiki-content-table th{ background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 89%); } .alt-blockquote{ / ---- Alternative Quote Block ---- / margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 60%); border-radius: 1em; } .lightweight{ / ---- Lightweight Quote Block ---- / margin: 1em 3em; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 90%); text-align: left; } .card-block{ / ---- Decorative Quote Block ---- / margin: 1em 0; padding: .6em 1.2em; background: hsl(220, 15%, 93%); border-left: 8px solid var(--accentColor); border-radius: .48em; } blockquote hr, div.blockquote hr, .alt-blockquote hr, .lightweight hr, .card-block hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 67%); } .log-header{ / ---- Interview/Exploration Log Header ---- / margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border: 3px dashed hsl(0, 0%, 60%); border-radius: 2em; } .report-box{ / ---- Report Block ---- / margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: medium solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .report-box hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .realistic-shadow{ / ---- Better Shadows ---- / margin: 1em 0 2em 0; box-shadow: 0 1px 1px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .23), 0 2px 2px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .18), 0 4px 4px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .15), 0 8px 8px hsla(0, 0%, 0%, .13); } .report-box.red-tint{ / ---- Alternative Report Block Variants ---- / background-color: hsl(360, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(360, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.red-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(360, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.orange-tint{ background-color: hsl(30, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(30, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.orange-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(30, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.yellow-tint{ background-color: hsl(60, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(60, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.yellow-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(60, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.green-tint{ background-color: hsl(120, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(120, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.green-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(120, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.cyan-tint{ background-color: hsl(180, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(180, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.cyan-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(180, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.blue-tint{ background-color: hsl(240, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(240, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.blue-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(240, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.magenta-tint{ background-color: hsl(300, 91%, 86%); border-color: hsl(300, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.magenta-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(300, 62%, 66%); } .report-box.grey-tint{ background-color: hsl(210, 9%, 86%); border-color: hsl(210, 15%, 42%); } .report-box.grey-tint hr{ border-color: hsl(210, 15%, 42%); } .report-box.red-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.red-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.orange-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.orange-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.yellow-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.yellow-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.green-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.green-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.cyan-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.cyan-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.blue-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.blue-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.magenta-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.magenta-tint div.blockquote hr, .report-box.grey-tint blockquote hr, .report-box.grey-tint div.blockquote hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 67%); } div.o5-box{ / ---- Overseer Document Block ---- / margin: 1em 6em; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 75%); border: medium solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } div.o5-box hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .faux-source{ / ---- Mimics "Page Source" Appearance ---- / margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0 2em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px dashed hsl(0, 0%, 67%); font-family: var(--mono-font); } .narration{ / ---- Mimics the Pages of a Book ---- / margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 63%); } .warning-notice{ / ---- Simple Warning Block (Adapted From 'SCP-3143') ---- / padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-style-resource/scp_trans.png); background-position: center; background-repeat: no-repeat; border: medium solid hsl(0, 0%, 5%); text-align: center; } .warning-notice hr{ border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } .journal{ / ---- Journal Block (Adapted From 'SCP-4003') ---- / margin: 1em 0; padding: .9em; background-image: linear-gradient(to top, hsl(201, 33%, 84%) 0%, hsl(60, 29%, 89%) 8%); background-position: 0 8px; background-size: 100% 1.3rem; border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 80%); border-radius: .9em; font-family: "Architects Daughter", cursive; } .journal p{ margin: 0; font-size: 1.3rem; line-height: 1.3rem; } .sms-message{ / ---- SMS Message Block ---- / float: left; clear: left; width: 22.4em; margin: 0 0 1em; padding: 0 1.2em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 75%); border-radius: 2em; font-size: 112.5%; text-align: center; } blockquote .collapsible-block-folded, .alt-blockquote .collapsible-block-folded, .lightweight .collapsible-block-folded, .card-block .collapsible-block-folded, .report-box .collapsible-block-folded, .o5-box .collapsible-block-folded, .narration .collapsible-block-folded, .journal .collapsible-block-folded, div.blockquote .collapsible-block-folded{ / ---- For Collapsibles Inside Divs \| [CLOSED] ---- / padding: .75em 0; / -------- / } blockquote .collapsible-block-unfolded, .alt-blockquote .collapsible-block-unfolded, .lightweight .collapsible-block-unfolded, .card-block .collapsible-block-unfolded, .report-box .collapsible-block-unfolded, .o5-box .collapsible-block-unfolded, .narration .collapsible-block-unfolded, .journal .collapsible-block-unfolded, div.blockquote .collapsible-block-unfolded{ / ---- For Collapsibles Inside Divs \| [OPEN] ---- / padding-top: .75em; / -------- / } / -------- FORMATTING \| [SPECIAL] -------- / .centered{ / ---- Center-Aligns Text ---- / text-align: center; } .justified{ / ---- Justify-Aligns Text ---- / text-align: justify; } .indented{ / ---- Indents Block by ½-inch/2em (Use Within Other Divs) ---- / text-indent: 2.4em; } .indented .bibcite, .indented .bibitems, .indented .footnoteref, .indented .footnotes-footer, .indented .scp-image-block, .indented h1, .indented h2, .indented h3, .indented h4, .indented h5, .indented h6, .indented .image-container, .indented ol, .indented ul, .indented .centered{ text-indent: 0; } .rev-red, .rev-green, .rev-blue, .rev-yellow, .terminal-span{ font-weight: bold; } .rev-red{ / ---- Red Document Revision Text ---- / color: hsl(360, 100%, 27%); } .rev-green{ / ---- Green Document Revision Text ---- / color: hsl(120, 100%, 27%); } .rev-blue{ / ---- Blue Document Revision Text ---- / color: hsl(240, 100%, 27%); } .rev-yellow{ / ---- Yellow Document Revision Text ---- / color: hsl(40, 100%, 40%); } .terminal-span{ / ---- Computer Terminal Text ---- / font-family: var(--mono-font); font-size: 110%; letter-spacing: .3px; } / ---- Blinking Text Cursor (Adapted From 'Your Very First SCP!') ---- / .blinkbar{color: black; animation: blink 1.5s infinite;} @keyframes blink{to{opacity: .0;}} @keyframes flicker{0% {opacity: .9890; }5% {opacity: .5842; }10% {opacity: .9865; }20% {opacity: .0412; }20% {opacity: .6255; }25% {opacity: .3157; }30% {opacity: .7328; }35% {opacity: .4654; }40% {opacity: .9128; }45% {opacity: .2449; }50% {opacity: .5485; }55% {opacity: .6438; }60% {opacity: .1180; }65% {opacity: .9085; }70% {opacity: .0266; }75% {opacity: .6795; }80% {opacity: .7812; }85% {opacity: .0117; }90% {opacity: .2239; }95% {opacity: .8897; }100% {opacity: .2260; }} @keyframes overlay-anim{0% {visibility: hidden; }10% {visibility: hidden; }11% {visibility: visible; }50% {visibility: hidden; }100% {visibility: hidden; }} .lite-heading{ / ---- Special Heading Area (Adapted From 'SCP-4058') ---- / clear: both; margin: 3.6em auto; } .lite-heading h3{ color: hsl(360, 100%, 27%); } .lite-heading hr{ width: 55%; margin: auto; border-width: medium; } div.image-showcase{ / ---- Alternative Image Showcase ---- / width: 25em; margin-bottom: 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 3px ridge hsl(0, 0%, 5%); } div.image-showcase.block-center{ margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto; } .scene-break{ / ---- Fancy Scene/Section Break ---- / width: 3.5em; margin: 2em 0; } .listPagesNav{ margin-bottom: 5em; } .listPagesNav-prev, / ---- ListPages Navigation (Adapted from 'SCP-5552') ---- / .listPagesNav-next{ width: 45%; margin: 0 0 1em; padding: 0 2%; background: hsl(0, 0%, 90%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } .listPagesNav-prev{ float: left; text-align: left; } .listPagesNav-next{ float: right; text-align: right; } .fade-away{ background: linear-gradient(to bottom, hsl(0, 0%, 95%), hsl(0, 0%, 5%)); } .footing::before{ / ---- Page Footing ---- / content: " "; position: absolute; bottom: 1px; left: 0; right: 0; border-bottom: 2px solid hsl(0, 0%, 47%); } .footing{ position: relative; bottom: -2px; margin-bottom: 2px; border-bottom: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 47%); } .related-flex{ / ---- Related Articles Box ---- / display: flex; justify-content: center; } .related{ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: thick solid hsla(0, 0%, 60%, 0.5); text-align: left; } .series-nav{ / ---- Series Navigation ---- / margin: .5em 0; background: linear-gradient(to bottom right, hsla(0, 0%, 100%, 1), hsla(0, 0%, 50%, .5)); border: outset 1.5px hsl(0, 0%, 5%); border-radius: 2em; font-size: 85%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; } / -------- ADVANCED WARNING HEADER -------- * Adapted From 'SCP-001-JP - indonootoko's Proposal' * See the Example at the Top of the Page */ .orderwrapper{ position: relative; width: auto; text-align: center; } .council{ position: relative; top: 0; bottom: 0; left: 0; right: 0; width: 295px; height: 295px; margin: auto; background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-style-resource/scp_trans.png); background-position: center; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: 295px 295px; } .ordertitle{ position: absolute; top: 27px; left: 0; right: 0; } .ordertitle h1{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 220%; line-height: 90%; } .orderdescription{ position: absolute; top: 93px; left: 0; right: 0; width: 100%; } .orderdescription h1{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 120%; } .orderdescription p{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 90%; } .itemno{ position: absolute; bottom: 18px; left: 0; right: 0; } .itemno h1{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); font-size: 170%; } / -------- YUI TAB BASE -------- / .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} / -------- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION -------- * Adapted From 'Black Highlighter Theme' */ .yui-navset { transition: color 80ms cubic-bezier(.4, 0, .2, 1), background-color 80ms cubic-bezier(.4, 0, .2, 1); } .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); box-shadow: 0 calc(.0625rem * 5) 0 0 hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- / .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); / ---- Tab Background Colour \| [UNSELECTED] ---- / background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 99%); / -------- / background-image: none; border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); / ---- Tab Background Colour \| [HOVER] ---- / background-color: hsl(360, 100%, 27%); / -------- / } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, / ---- Listitem Modifier ---- / .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); border-color: transparent; box-shadow: 0 0 0 .0625rem hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, / ---- Selection Modifier ---- / .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; / ---- Tab Background Colour \| [SELECTED] ---- / background-color: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); / -------- / } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%) !important; background-image: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 96%); background-color: hsl(360, 94%, 20%); } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{ cursor: default; } .yui-navset-left .yui-content{ / ---- Content Background ---- / background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 99%); / -------- / } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border-color: hsl(0, 0%, 60%); } / -------- PAGE TAGS -------- / #main-content .page-tags{ border-top: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 73%); } #main-content .page-tags a{ display: inline-block; height: .8125rem; margin: 0 0 .5rem .75rem; padding: .1875rem .3125rem .1875rem 0; color: hsl(0, 0%, 95%); background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 27%); border-bottom-right-radius: .25rem; border-top-right-radius: .25rem; line-height: 13px; line-height: .8125rem; font-size: 11px; font-size: .6875rem; font-weight: normal; } #main-content .page-tags a:before{ width: 0; height: 0; top: -.1875rem; left: -.625rem; padding: 0 .0625rem .1875rem; border-color: transparent hsl(0, 0%, 27%) transparent transparent; border-style: solid; border-width: .5rem .5rem .5rem 0; } #main-content .page-tags a:before, #main-content .page-tags a:after{ content: ""; position: relative; float: left; } #main-content .page-tags a:after{ width: .25rem; height: .25rem; top: .2813rem; left: -.5rem; background-color: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border-radius: .125rem; } #main-content .page-tags span{ max-width: 100%; border-top: .5rem solid transparent; } / -------- WIKIWALK NAVIGATOR -------- / .footer-wikiwalk-nav { text-align: center; } / -------- INTERWIKI -------- / div.scpnet-interwiki-wrapper{ margin-bottom: 2rem; } iframe.scpnet-interwiki-frame{ width: 17.75em; min-height: 4.25em; margin-left: 4px; background: hsl(127, 050%, 94%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 20%); } #interwiki body{ overflow: hidden; } #interwiki .side-block{ padding: 5px; background: 0; border: 0; box-shadow: none; } #interwiki .heading{ color: hsl(0, 0%, 5%); border-bottom: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 20%); } #interwiki .menu-item img{ display: none; } / -------- SHOW-CHANGES HIGHLIGHTS -------- / .inline-diff ins::before{ color: hsl(240, 100%, 93%); } .inline-diff del::before{ color: hsl(0, 100%, 90%); } .inline-diff ins + del::before, .inline-diff del + ins::before{ color: transparent; } .inline-diff br + ins::before, .inline-diff br + del::before, .inline-diff ins:first-of-type::before, .inline-diff del:first-of-type::before{ position: absolute; display: inline-block; left: -1em; content: "\f111"; font: normal normal normal 16px/1 "FontAwesome"; text-rendering: auto; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -moz-osx-font-smoothing: grayscale; } / -------- PRESENTATION -------- / .templateInfo{ margin: 1em 0; padding: 0 1em; background: hsl(0, 0%, 100%); border: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 87%); } / -------- CROQSTYLE ALTERATIONS -------- / #edit-page-textarea{ font-family: unset; } tt{ background-color: unset; font-size: unset; padding: unset; margin: unset; border-radius: unset; } / ---- BETTERFOOTNOTES PATCH ---- / :root{ --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem) !important; --fnLinger: 1.5s !important; } .fnnum{ font-size: 90%; } .fnnum:hover + .fncon{ right: calc(-8vw - 4rem) !important; } / -------- REDUCED MOTION ACCESSIBILITY -------- / @media (prefers-reduced-motion: reduce){ , ::before, ::after{ animation-duration: .001s !important; animation-iteration-count: 1 !important; transition-duration: .001s !important; } } /* -------- MOBILE MEDIA QUERY -------- / @media (max-width: 479px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 85%; } div.image-showcase{ width: 90%; } div.o5-box{ margin: 1em 0; } } / -------- NOTE MEDIA QUERY -------- / @media (min-width: 480px) and (max-width: 580px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 100%; } div.image-showcase{ width: 100%; } div.o5-box{ margin: .5em; } } / -------- MINI TABLET MEDIA QUERY -------- / @media (min-width: 581px) and (max-width: 767px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 120%; } } @media (max-width: 767px){ .open-menu a:hover{ box-shadow: none; } } / -------- TABLET MEDIA QUERY -------- */ @media (min-width: 768px) and (max-width: 979px){ #header h1 a{ font-size: 140%; } } [[/module]] --]	2023-07-29T20:17:00	[ "_cc", "broken-god", "creepypasta", "tale" ]	Tick-Tock Transmogrification - SCP Foundation	12	[ "twistedgears-kaktus-proposal", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "creepy-pasta", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[ "https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/27/Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg/640px-Ha_Ha_Toy_%E2%80%93_Tin_Wind_Up_%E2%80%93_Planet_Robot_%E2%80%93_Chrome_Version_%E2%80%93_Close_Up.jpg" ]	1449203758	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tick-tock-transmogrification
time-and-time-again	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>A poem (sestina form) inspired by SCP-4975</p> <p><strong>Time and Time Again</strong></p> <p>It's keeping me awake, wearing down my mind–<br/> The clock's ticking is unusually loud;<br/> My thoughts flutter around like wounded birds.<br/> I'm willing the noise to just stop on its own, whatever it takes,<br/> But there's no way I can lock myself inside forever.<br/> Whatever I don't know should remain silent.</p> <p>It's unnerving when it is perfectly silent,<br/> But I would prefer it now for some peace of mind.<br/> This constant reminder that life doesn't last forever,<br/> We can rarely hear it so clearly and loud.<br/> No way to tell how much of my life it takes<br/> To lie here and listen to the night birds.</p> <p>The constant ticking reminds me of pecking birds;<br/> I can't command a force of nature to be silent.<br/> To keep us aware of time, the clock instead takes.<br/> I try in vain to fall back asleep or steady my mind.<br/> No use; the ticking is just too loud.<br/> Gears turn, springs wind so it can go on forever.</p> <p>I can't remain between sleep and waking forever.<br/> Outside now, the chirping of morning birds<br/> Is comforting, but not nearly long or loud<br/> Enough to drown it out; no question now of silence.<br/> There's a war waged only in the mind,<br/> And sanity is the price both sides take.</p> <p>I wonder what will emerge, what takes<br/> Control eventually, when reason is lost forever?<br/> It's an interesting puzzle for a stable mind,<br/> But not for one scattered like a flock of birds.<br/> Until now, I never found peace in being silent.<br/> Sleep, death even, so long as it isn't loud.</p> <p>The ticking goes on––it can't be this loud.<br/> Something else is the source, something that takes<br/> Pleasure in distress, hateful of true silence.<br/> It feels like it's been around forever,<br/> Persistent as a long-beaked bird<br/> Tapping away at the foundations of my mind.</p> <p>But in the end, whether silent or loud,<br/> The mind, even from itself, takes what it takes<br/> To forever hide from the terrible bird.</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="/time-and-time-again">Time and Time Again</a>" by Delta778, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/time-and-time-again">https://scpwiki.com/time-and-time-again</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]] [[/>]] A poem (sestina form) inspired by SCP-4975 Time and Time Again It's keeping me awake, wearing down my mind– The clock's ticking is unusually loud; My thoughts flutter around like wounded birds. I'm willing the noise to just stop on its own, whatever it takes, But there's no way I can lock myself inside forever. Whatever I don't know should remain silent. It's unnerving when it is perfectly silent, But I would prefer it now for some peace of mind. This constant reminder that life doesn't last forever, We can rarely hear it so clearly and loud. No way to tell how much of my life it takes To lie here and listen to the night birds. The constant ticking reminds me of pecking birds; I can't command a force of nature to be silent. To keep us aware of time, the clock instead takes. I try in vain to fall back asleep or steady my mind. No use; the ticking is just too loud. Gears turn, springs wind so it can go on forever. I can't remain between sleep and waking forever. Outside now, the chirping of morning birds Is comforting, but not nearly long or loud Enough to drown it out; no question now of silence. There's a war waged only in the mind, And sanity is the price both sides take. I wonder what will emerge, what takes Control eventually, when reason is lost forever? It's an interesting puzzle for a stable mind, But not for one scattered like a flock of birds. Until now, I never found peace in being silent. Sleep, death even, so long as it isn't loud. The ticking goes on––it can't be this loud. Something else is the source, something that takes Pleasure in distress, hateful of true silence. It feels like it's been around forever, Persistent as a long-beaked bird Tapping away at the foundations of my mind. But in the end, whether silent or loud, The mind, even from itself, takes what it takes To forever hide from the terrible bird. [[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>]]	2023-02-16T18:57:00	[ "_licensebox", "poetry", "tale" ]	Time and Time Again - SCP Foundation	7	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446205891	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/time-and-time-again
time-machine-en	<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="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>Co-written by <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=1735052710" 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> and <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=1735052710" 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></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jakdragonx-rage-collection">JakdragonX's Authorpage</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage">Ralliston's Authorpage</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ongoing-incident-jakdragonx-ralliston">JakdragonX's AND Ralliston's Shared Authorpage</a></strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>One might imagine that zapping into another universe for a third time now would've made the process easier. Robert Madden could certainly believe it; he was no a stranger to mathematical truths that transcended reality. For him, the third time wasn't <em>just</em> the charm; as someone whose anomalous traits made his life inherently intertwined with para-mathematical formulas, the third time almost always meant guaranteed success.</p> <p><a href="/the-mind-electric">So when he and his accomplices in getting stranded across the multiverse jumped blind to another reality for a third time in a row</a>, he silently hoped this way between worlds would finally bring them back home.</p> <p>It very much didn't.</p> <p>When he opened his eyes again, Madden immediately realized two things: that he had lost his consciousness sometime during interdimensional travel, and that he and his friends were now standing — or, in Madden's case, laying — on a barren field in the middle of nowhere.</p> <p>Blinking twice he quickly sat up, correcting his glasses. His eyes focused on the bright blue horizon above him, the midday sky bereft of anything even barely resembling a cloud. He took a deep breath and realized that he could feel the tall grass almost burying what little height he had to call his own. For a few seconds, he almost considered staying where he had landed, giving into that surprisingly enjoyable tranquility around him and resting for just a few minutes.</p> <p>He didn't consider that for long.</p> <p>"Oh for— Madden!" Ann Barlowe shouted somewhere in the distance. "Madden, you twat! Come out!"</p> <p>He sighed, stood up, and waved to his two companions.</p> <p>A few meters before him, the alchemist and the android stood, both staring at him with exhausted faces, the frustration visible even in the posture of Ra's robotic body. Barlowe furrowed her eyebrows.</p> <p>"I am so sick of everyone trying to kill us," she grumbled, now closer, stretching her arms upward above her head. After a grunt, pause, and an audible sigh of relief — whether at the fact that Madden was safe or at the realization that her body remained unharmed despite the fall, Madden couldn't quite tell — Barlowe looked towards him as he finally regained all of his senses. "How many more of these are we going to have to jump through until we make it back home, huh? Can we even <em>make it</em> back home?"</p> <p>"I-I have no idea," he stuttered. "You have to consider all the ontokinetic fluxes, and—"</p> <p>She furrowed her brows even further. "It was a rhetorical question." She puffed out, trying to notice anything particularly discerning about their whereabouts that wasn't just the field. She failed; it stretched pretty much all across the horizon.</p> <p>Madden took a deep, careful breath. "So, Ra, where are we?"</p> <p>"<tt>We are in the middle of an empty field.</tt>" The .aic sighed. "<tt>Whether we're still in this universe's equivalent of New York, I can't tell. I need more data to triangulate the geo—" She paused for a moment. "Actually, never mind. I can detect a faint Foundation presence nearby. It's different than our own, but that's definitely the digital signature of Site-120's — and SCP-6172's — SCiPNET.</tt>"</p> <p>Madden smiled at Barlowe, resisting the urge to say that it wasn't all that bad. He knew better than to tempt fate like that.</p> <p>Barlowe didn't match his good mood. "That's not as good as you think it is," she spat out. "We took our chances with 'similar Foundation signatures' before, and so far we're at two to zero in terms of it being bad."</p> <p>Ra nodded her head in acknowledgment, but quickly also tilted it, carefully looking at Barlowe. "<tt>Ann, are you all right? You see, to be—</tt>"</p> <p>"No, I'm not fucking all right. I'm very not fucking all right." She breathed out, heavily. "I'm stranded in god-knows-where with two people who have absolutely no idea how to fix it. I'm worried sick about my cats and and my friends and oh don't forget about the fact that I haven't showered or shat well in a <em>fucking week</em> and—" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the spark of fury that had previously been within them was gone. "Sorry. It's something in the air. It's gotta be something in the goddamned air."</p> <p>Madden raised an eyebrow.</p> <p>Barlowe slowly moved her hands through the surrounding sky, as if she was trying to touch — or feel — something that was barely there, just at the edge of her cognition. "It's just…" she tried to say. "It feels different, here. Different than back home." She blinked and snapped out of her apparent trance, waving with one of her hands. "Sorry. It's probably nothing. Post-interdimensional travel motion sickness. Don't worry about it."</p> <p>Even if he wanted to say that there was no such thing as 'post-interdimensional travel motion sickness', Madden didn't pursue the subject further. Instead, he turned to face Ra. "Can you lead us to that source you mentioned? If it's a -120, it's almost certain that's where this reality's <a href="/scp-6172">6172</a> is. We could get out of here pronto. This time maybe even after having it calibrated."</p> <p>"<tt>Certainly.</tt>" The android nodded, and took the first step forward towards their destination. "<tt>Let's go.</tt>"</p> <hr/> <p>It was a seriously massive mistake to accept Ra's definition of 'relatively close by'.</p> <p>Even after a few hours of walking, they still hadn't found anything, not even a stray Foundation insignia. As the group continued onward, sweat and grime caked the sides of Barlowe's face, oddly reminiscent of that one time when she had shoved her finger into hot candle wax as a child, still not understanding how to bend flame to her liking. Under the blazing midday sun, fatigue was starting to lock up her joints and ankles in retaliation against the added strain. Judging by Madden's face — and the sounds Ra's mechanical body was starting to make — exhaustion and overheating were starting to take their toll on them, too.</p> <p>Eventually, a few steps further, Barlowe decided that she was done.</p> <p>"What are you doing?" Madden said as he narrowed his eyes, seeing Ann simply lay on the ground. "You can't just—"</p> <p>She wasn't listening anymore. She was far too gone, appreciating the little comfort that the plain around them offered. It had truly been a while since she'd enjoyed the simple pleasure of lying on grass, she realized. It had also been a while since she'd enjoyed the even simpler pleasure of the sun, too — so she rejoiced in the moment for as little as she knew it would last, gently caressing the tall tufts all around her. For just a split second, she touched the grass and felt something, like some itch in the back of her brain, and—</p> <p>Before she could realize it, she was one with the grass. Her essence and that of nature, fully intertwined for just a split second, and—</p> <p>She suddenly blinked and felt herself wake up from the trance, noticing an angry and tired Madden shouting at her from above her. She ignored him, instead deciding to stretch her fingers, carefully savoring that peculiar static at the edge of her fingertips.</p> <p>And then she knew what it meant.</p> <p>"Oh shit," she mouthed, quickly standing up. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh <em>shit</em>!" She was shouting with excitement, now, almost like a little girl who had just opened her Christmas present. "What the <em>hell</em>."</p> <p>"Are-Are you okay?" Madden said, concern in his voice. "What are you—"</p> <p>She grabbed him by his shoulders, a wide smile plastered all across her face. "The Seal. The Grand Seal of Alchemy. It's gone in this world, Robert. It's fucking gone. Do you realize what that means?!"</p> <p>Robert didn't, so she continued, "<a href="/the-alchemy-department-hub">Every alchemical particle, every Aether we had locked back home behind the Seal</a> is free here, Robert. All of them. I can—" She took a deep breath, making sure to taste the world all around her, its smells finally unraveling itself before her until she was met with enough stimuli to satisfy a small labrador. "I can feel <em>everything</em>. All of it, the Aethers it's made from. And I can—" She giggled, and simply waved her hand.</p> <p>Before the others could blink, they were in the sky, all three soaring through the air as if they were born with the knowledge of how to fly. All it took was Barlowe's subconscious thoughts, feeling and attuning with the energies of a universe now free, feeling and bending the particles of all that was to her liking. It wasn't like back home — here, she had far more than just air, earth, fire, water, and electricity, to play with. She was greeted by the particles of the light, of the sun, of the clouds, of winds north and south and east and west, of breezes scorching hot and freezing cold, of rains and hurricanes and thunders, and she could use it all however she liked, and—</p> <p>She couldn't resist the urge to just scream out into the blue void around her. Her companions were also screaming, she suddenly realized, but not from excitement; rather, they were quite terrified at the fact that their friend had just acquired the ability to fly, taking them for a trip across the skies with her. Instead of slowing down, though, she just floored her metaphysical gas, turning them into what could be considered a category five meteorological hazard; still soaring towards their inevitable destination, now no longer beyond the reach of their horizon.</p> <p>When she slowed down a few moments later, she realized they had traveled many kilometers in what was basically a few seconds. She blinked twice, surprised to feel no exhaustion, no strain at all in her body from using such tremendously ridiculous amounts of magical power.</p> <p>She soon realized that there was something far more shocking to be surprised at; before them, she now could see, a small rural town stood. Between its tiny houses constructed out of wood and hay, animal pens, and planting fields, there was a grand, half-ruined temple made from concrete and bricks, located atop a vague hill and beyond a small river.</p> <p>A grand, half-ruined temple that looked almost exactly like the Site-120 back home.</p> <p>Barlowe narrowed her eyes, and carefully — making sure that none of her fragile companions got hurt in the process — lowered them all three to the ground, landing right before the gates to the city.</p> <hr/> <p>The second they entered, they were the talk of the town.</p> <p>Making their way across the dirty pathways, uneven houses, and farm animals walking right next to people dressed in what looked like medieval clothing, they couldn't help but feel awkward. Wherever they went, still guided by the inevitable destination of the temple right above the horizon, they were treated like some terrible curiosity. In the eyes of the townsfolk, they could see a strange mix of respect, fear, and… could it be hope?</p> <p>And so they continued their march in relative silence, none of them really wanting to speak a word, as they brought the awkward tranquility to more and more squares within the town. The people whispered to themselves, sometimes pointing at Ann and Ra — far more rarely at Robert — but never really speaking to any of the multiversal newcomers. It was as if they were intimidated; too intimidated to even consider themselves as equal to those that walked their streets before them.</p> <p>But seeing as it gave them easy access forward towards the temple, neither Ann, nor Ra or Robert really questioned it. They just continued their stride forward, walking until they arrived right before the temple.</p> <p>The building was almost identical to the Site-120 that they knew of back home, they quickly realized: well, it <em>would</em> be almost identical to it if their Site-120 had been quietly in ruin for more than a few centuries, its walls overgrown by vines and several markings the meanings of which neither of them could really understand.</p> <p>There were torches all around the building, they noticed, their flames dancing joyfully beneath banners sewn from red cloth, several figures depicted on each of the flags. There were five of them — three men and two women — all standing above a town, brilliant three-arrowed halos of yellow mounted above their heads. Their hands were full of light and turned to face the city, as if the banner tried to say that their blessings were the only thing that kept the town from total collapse. Barlowe felt like she almost recognized the figures. Though they didn't say as much, Ra and Madden shared the feeling.</p> <p>When they turned back from examining the banners to the rest of the temple, the three immediately realized that its gates were sealed shut.</p> <p>"That's… far from ideal," Robert said, narrowing his eyes. "I was hoping we could—"</p> <p>Ann scoffed, amused, and gave Robert a heavy look. With one flick of her hand — and one thought, quicker than lightning — she felt the steel structure of the gate as if she had always known it by heart. She gave it just the faintest of pushes, and the essence of the door merged with hers, entirely surrendering its inanimate soul to the superior form of the alchemist. It opened with a heavy creak.</p> <p>"Voilà," Barlowe said, proudly looking at her work. She smiled and entered the temple, urging her two companions to follow along.</p> <p>Inside they were greeted by an almost identical replica of Site-120's aboveground portion, though this time decorated with more banners, torches, and red carpets. Back home, this part of the facility served as little more than the cover front for the rest of Site-120's operations, masquerading the site as a long-abandoned industrial plant; here, though, it felt like they were inside a church. The stained glass that replaced the panels that illuminated their version of the facility didn't help, either. Neither did the painting that stood right before them, at the far end of the hall.</p> <p>It depicted the same five figures as before, but this time in far more detail. You could see the curly blondes and straight reds of the hair of the two women — just as well as you could see the longer darks and short grays of the three men. Their clothing, too, was given far more attention; the runed gloves of one of the men and what looked like labcoats of all five were now visible, the care taken to make them look just as realistic as possible almost staggering. What was even more staggering, though, was how many colors their halos now had — it was as if the light of the gods themselves was what radiated from the figures, and—</p> <p>Oh.</p> <p>Ann suddenly realized that what she was looking at was a terrifyingly accurate — and terrifyingly religious — depiction of Site-120's Director Council.</p> <p>The three turned their sights below, finding a throne made of what looked like solid gold sitting right below the painting. Atop it sat a young, lanky man, his curly red hair ridden by the occasional strip of blonde. He was wearing red robes and was surrounded by people in identical clothing as those they had seen in the village, carrying around plates of fruit and cups of wine. They avoided the man's eyes as best as they could, bowing their heads towards him each time they passed him.</p> <p>Ann narrowed her eyes, then exchanged a look with Ra. She nodded, confirming Ann's suspicions. "You have got to be shitting me," Ann tried to whisper, but her voice carried itself well throughout the hall, the echo filling the ears of each person inside.</p> <p>They all turned to look at them, the face of the young man atop the throne first twisting with shock, then with fear, and finally with utter and thorough confusion.</p> <p>"I…" Robert tried to say, gulping hard. He didn't enjoy being the center of attention, much less that of twenty or so servants walking around the man right in front of him.</p> <p>The man just sighed, his eyes now glistering with realization. "Oh welcome, great travelers from lands beyond the sky! How was your journey all the way from Kannada? Are the Seven well? Is the Maiden doing all right?" He might've spoken with kindness, but his eyes were cold, calculating; it was very clear he was doing his best to make out what the hell was going on.</p> <p>Ann started walking towards him, urging the others to follow her example and bow down slightly. "We thank thee for thy warm welcome, oh Lord of the Protectorate, oh Lord of the Contained!" The servants were now giving them more than enough space to pass through, their heads also bowed towards Ann, Ra, and Robert, showing similar respect as they had towards the man atop the throne. "Our journey was long but pleasant. How great to finally feel the warmth of the sun again!"</p> <p>They were standing before him, now, and they could see that his skin was almost as pale as paper, his purple eyes sunken. A minor reality bender, then. "I am very glad you made it just in time for the ceremony!" he exclaimed, stepping off his throne. Judging by the reactions of his subjects, this didn't happen often. "Please, allow me to show you to your chambers as my humans begin to prepare the temple for an appropriate welcome!"</p> <p>He started walking towards the red curtains behind his throne, revealing that behind them there stood a staircase. In their world, it led to the sublevels of the facility; they couldn't begin to fathom what further curiosities awaited behind them in this reality, though.</p> <p>The man started walking down them, showing them to come along. "Please, follow me."</p> <hr/> <p>His mask of hospitality fell off the second they were alone.</p> <p>"What the hell are you thinking?! Who are you?!" he whisper-shouted, making sure none of his servants heard him. Since none of them were here — the room around them was a small corridor leading to two elevators, which didn't function in this reality — he had to do little more than keep his voice down to make sure they were paid no attention. He still struggled to do as much. "This is <em>my</em> realm, you hear that? My realm! Go back to your Ur'tec or Pit if you want to—"</p> <p>Ann sighed, and massaged her temples. "I think we got off the wrong foot, here." She extended her hand. "I'm Ann Barlowe. This is Robert Madden and Ra." She pointed at her companions. "I'm an alchemist. He's a scientist. She's— Actually never mind. Point is, we're not from this world. We come from a different reality."</p> <p>The man calmed down, confusion replacing the anger in his posture. "Oh. What. What… what world. What."</p> <p>This time, Madden was the one to sigh. "All right. So." He corrected his glasses, much to the man's further confusion. "We are not from here. Outside your own reality, there are other worlds — worlds in which history happened differently. We come from one of those. We had an accident during a magical experiment—" He ignored Barlowe's heavy look. "—and we ended up stranded across other realities. This is the third one we've visited, now."</p> <p>"Oh," the man said. "Oh. Well then. Right. Okay. That's a lot. I just thought you came here to kill me and take my throne." He paused, taking a moment to take it all in. He eventually turned back to face them, and cleared his throat. " I'm Jacob Rivera-Cornwell." He extended his hand.</p> <p>For just a second, Ann's eyes widened at the impossibility of what she was hearing, but she soon blinked twice, putting the thoughts aside and accepting Jacob's gesture. "Can you tell us what the hell happened here?"</p> <p>Jacob tilted his head. "What do you mean, 'what the hell happened here'?"</p> <p>Robert sighed. "Oh boy."</p> <p>"Okay, so," Barlowe said, carefully choosing her words. "Back in our world, we… we aren't worshipped. Society isn't fractured. What happened?"</p> <p>It looked like the man was about to laugh. "Oh, you mean <em>that</em>! Right. Not much, I don't think. <a href="/doctors-of-the-church-hub">It's always been like that. Ever since I was born a god</a>. You guys don't get worshipped? That's awful. Really sorry. I for one don't get much to complain about. I get fed by people who respect my authority—"</p> <p>"'Authority'?" Ann asked.</p> <p>"Oh, right, you haven't seen yet. I'm kind of a big deal around here. Not just a demigod! I'm born of two gods, I'm… Actually, I think it'll be better if I just show you." He flicked his hands, a brief spark of purple running past his eyes, and on his palm there now stood an apple. "Ta-dah! I can make things. You know, because of my parents and all. Like I said, big deal!"</p> <p>Ann resisted the urge to sigh. She also resisted the urge to tell Jacob that that was <em>nothing</em>, using her newfound powers to rearrange the molecular structure of the entire floor as well as his guts, and—</p> <p>She took a deep breath and put on a smile. "Right. Yeah. That's great. Really, really great. We—"</p> <p>Madden cut in, "Do you by any chance have a big buzzing thing around here, about the shape of a hexagon, and—"</p> <p>"What in the seven hells is a 'hexagon'?"</p> <p>Madden closed his eyes. "<em>Oh boy</em>. So—"</p> <p>Ra cut him off, displaying the picture of the SCP-6172 portal on the TV screen mounted in place of her head.</p> <p>Jacob snapped his fingers. "Oh, you mean the old gateway! Yeah, it's down there." He pointed to the empty elevator shaft. "Haven't touched it since mom passed though, really. Never had a knack for magic."</p> <p>"Fantastic. We will just need to fix it, and we'll be gone before you can blink."</p> <p>"Yeah, that's great. I was worried your stay would undermine my— Ah, I almost forgot!" Jacob snapped his fingers. "Like I was saying up there, you're just in time for the ceremony! You absolutely cannot miss it!" He was almost beaming with joy now.</p> <p>"The ceremony?" Madden asked.</p> <p>"Oh, you know, the festival we throw in my name once every moon. It's great!" He smiled. "Oh, and now that you're here, we can throw it in <em>your</em> name, too! I'll have to make some preparations." He was already halfway across the stairs. "And don't worry about it! You'll just have to give the peasants a few miracles and whatnot, but ah." he waved his hands. "I'm sure even teeny gods like you can manage one or two.</p> <p>"Give me just a few seconds and I'll be <em>right</em> back. I need to tell my servants we will need three more thrones!"</p> <p>And just like that, Jacob stepped up onto ground floor, and he was gone.</p> <p>Ann, Ra, and Robert eyed each other.</p> <p>"What the hell," the first one said.</p> <p>"<tt>What the hell,</tt>" the second one agreed.</p> <p>"Good lord," Madden said, putting his hands together. "What a mess. What a goddamned mess. What do we do about this?" He turned to face Ra.</p> <p>"<tt>Well, if what Jacob was saying was right — and my signals tell me it was — then this version of Site-120 has its own SCP-6172. And since he doesn't look like he's about to kill us, we could safely calibrate it and go back home.</tt>"</p> <p>"Right," Ann said, nodding her head. "And we would have things to eat and places to sleep."</p> <p>Madden furrowed his brows. "And what about those people? Wouldn't you feel bad exploiting the work of others under the pretext of being better than them?"</p> <p>"That's called capitalism and I've been enjoying it for more than twenty years back home," she replied, snark present in her voice. "In all seriousness, though, yeah, no. If they have water and food I couldn't give a rat's ass. I'm starving. Besides," she said. "We'll only be here for a few days at most. We come in, tune our portal, and <em>schwoop</em>." She popped her mouth. "We're back home."</p> <p>"<tt>That does seem to be the best course of action,</tt>" Ra agreed. "<tt>We should wait here until me and Robert can gather more data and get us back home.</tt>"</p> <p>Ann nodded in agreement. "And until then, we can enjoy living the dream. And participating in the ceremony. Oh, don't be such a killjoy," she added, noticing Madden's frown. "I'm sure it'll be pretty fun."</p> <hr/> <p>The ceremony was, indeed, pretty fun.</p> <p>Ann didn't think the temple's decorations could get any more ridiculous than before, but there they were. Instead of just one throne and one carpet leading to it, there were now four, one for each of the false gods this whole mess was organized to celebrate. Of course, Jacob's still remained the largest, but that didn't mean that the smaller chairs Madden, Barlowe, and Ra got were any less pompous. Neither were the brown — Jacob said that red was <em>his</em> color, thank you very much — robes that each of them was provided with. Instead of complaining, though, the three just did what Jacob said, and sat back, ready to endure the ceremony.</p> <p>The people came exactly at midnight.</p> <p>There were tons of them, almost more people than Robert had ever seen in one place (not like Madden had much experience with large gatherings of people, but still). They started pouring into the temple, each of them dressed like it was their wedding (if this world even had a concept of weddings, that was), each carrying a basket or box or barrel or whatever else of fruit, wine, meat, spices, clothing, and every gift possible under the sun. They were all almost trembling with respect, their heads bowed as they approached their gods, offering whatever it was they had with them to those they thought its rulers. They came, begging for health for their family and for the crop season to be good and for their sons and daughters to return safe from their hunts, and prayed to Jacob — the Lord of the Containment, as they called him here — that the gift they gave was enough for him to still safeguard them from the monsters of the night.</p> <p>Judging by his expression, Jacob very much enjoyed this.</p> <p>Having worked first at the Foundation and then at Vanguard, Robert had experience with people who thought themselves gods — and this, right here, he realized, was more than just a display. The man genuinely believed that he was a deity, or at least the spawn thereof. Back home, they had words to explain reality-bending and ontokinesis and all other forms of what basically amounted to working the world to your will, but here? Here, such a gift was more than just a skill to describe with science, to study and catalog and note down — here, it was a sign of the gods that survived their 'Great Breach' (whatever it was, Madden wasn't sure; he'd picked up the name a few times in prayers but couldn't make much sense of it) that those who bore it were the chosen, the holy avatars that were to be feared and worshipped.</p> <p>And from Jacob's posture, his face, his actions — the occasional act of actually bending reality as a makeshift miracle to enthrall the people before him — from his reaction to everything that was going on, it was clear that he didn't realize what a farce this was. He genuinely did think that everything his subjects said was true. He <em>loved</em> this.</p> <p>What was even more concerning, Robert soon realized, was that Ann's face betrayed the same enjoyment, too.</p> <p>Throughout it all, Robert and Ra stayed silent, accepting being named the sacred protector-gods of wisdom and lighting respectively with relative dignity. They knew that this wasn't their world, and as much as they hated the customs here, it wasn't their right to interfere with them, to break that illusion. So they just sat back and occasionally said something like "bless thy souls" or "thy father shall make a great recovery" or whatever else it was they thought gods would say. But they never really enjoyed it, no; it was a viscerally uncomfortable thing to both of them, to be somehow put up above others and worshipped in this ridiculous masquerade. They accepted that they had to endure it, silently praying that the ceremony be over soon, but not for one second did they take enjoyment out of this.</p> <p>But Barlowe very much did.</p> <p>Each time one of the people approached her she didn't hold back, unleashing her full alchemical might, finally unbound in this world, to perform what the townsfolk surely thought of as miracles. She bent flame and air and and concrete and steel and bricks and wood and cloth and fruit to create and repair and destroy many things, beautiful things, according to what those who cowered before her asked for. She rejoiced in it, almost, the spark of excitement that sat deep within her eyes making sure that the rest of the world saw that she was having a great time. Perhaps the best time she had had in a long, long time.</p> <p>Seeing her reaction made Madden all the more uncomfortable.</p> <p>Eventually, after a few hours of this nonsense, Madden began to grow restless. He couldn't take it anymore. Were it not for Barlowe's reaction, he might've even been able to endure it all, but her response to the mess was what crossed the line for him. So, instead of waiting god-knew-how-many-more-hours for it to end, he just sighed, stood up from his throne, and retreated to the part of the room that was covered behind red curtains.</p> <p>Seeing him stand up, Jacob and Barlowe's eyes went wide; first with confusion, then with fear. Madden couldn't see it, of course, but he <em>could</em> hear the alchemist saying something like, "My dear subjects, I shall return to thee momentarily! My good friend and your god needs to speak with me, lest we wish to risk curses befall our own subjects! But fear not — my other friend shall remain with thee to care fare of thy needs!" or whatever else it was he could hear through the curtains. Moments later, she joined him, her face twisted with anger.</p> <p>"What do you <em>think</em> you're doing?" she ground through her teeth, crossing her arms. "You're risking the whole operation here!"</p> <p>He gave her a look heavier than the whole temple. "What am <em>I</em> doing? <em>What am I doing</em>? What the hell is all of this, huh? What the hell are <em>you</em> doing, Ann? Oh," he added, seeing a flash of anger go past her eyes, "don't give me that attitude, I could see you think we're having a wonderful fucking time back there."</p> <p>She scoffed. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right, I am. I think it's great that we can finally have a moment to rest, instead of being chased by the Foundation or the goddamned Coalition to be caged forever or shot. Yeah, I'm having a blast." She came a little closer. "What of it?"</p> <p>He narrowed his eyes. "And you see no issue with the fact that you're— for fuck's sake, Ann, look at yourself! Look at us!" He pointed at their clothing. "You really don't see any issues with this ridiculous goddamned mess?"</p> <p>She narrowed her eyes, too. "No. I don't. We are safe. We are well fed. What more could you possibly ask for?!" she shouted, immediately realizing she was far louder than she had intended, judging by the fact that one of the servants which had previously ignored them and went around their day was now looking at them, eyes and mouth wide.</p> <p>Madden sighed, gave Barlowe a heavy look, and turned to face the poor girl they had just scared. "Sorry. God stuff." He pointed at Ann. "Her twenty-fifth son just ate my sixteenth cousin. Need to send a two-generation plague onto her town. You know how that goes."</p> <p>He didn't think the girl <em>did</em> know how that went, but she nevertheless quickly nodded in fearful agreement and swiftly backed off, getting away from the two not seconds later.</p> <p>When she was gone, Robert sighed again, massaged his temples, and corrected his glasses. "Look. Forget I even asked, okay? I wanted to talk about you about something anyway."</p> <p>She visibly calmed down, the anger now replaced by curiosity. "Yeah?"</p> <p>"I looked at this world's 6172, when we were preparing for this whole thing. It's ready to go."</p> <p>She blinked twice. "What? Like, right now?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I don't know how, but it's functioning even without an energy source. Just like last time. Maybe nature just abhors an inbalance, or—"</p> <p>"Then what the hell are we still doing here?"</p> <p>"Right, here comes the issue I actually wanted to discuss: I can't tune it. It's impossible."</p> <p>She tiled her head. "What do you mean you can't tune it?"</p> <p>"Right, so," Robert began, clearing his throat. "Back home, we had ridiculous thaumo-ontokinetic apparatus that literally bent the hole in reality the portal formed to redirect it. It was a lot, but the computers handled it well." He paused for a moment. "Issue is, this world doesn't have that. Whatever happened to this version of Site-120 to ruin it, it took our server rooms with it, too."</p> <p>She arched an eyebrow. "And how is that an issue? Can't you just, I don't know." She waggled her hands for a moment. "Rebuild it?"</p> <p>He scoffed. "Do you know how a computer works, Ann? Do you know how a thaumaturgic circuit works?"</p> <p>She flicked her fingers, letting the Aethers of electricity and silicon form around them for just a second. "No, but I can—"</p> <p>"<em>Do you know how a computer works</em>?"</p> <p>She furrowed her brows. "No."</p> <p>"Great, because neither do I. Ra probably does, but that doesn't change the fact that she has no idea how the rest of the stupidly complex apparatus it took to even control that thing works, let alone how to build it. And I'm a mathematician, not an IT technician." He paused and sighed. "Look, Ann. I hate to say it, but we can either rot away here forever, or we can jump blind, right now. Take all the food you want, wash yourself, whatever — just promise me that we will go in as soon as we can."</p> <p>He met her eyes, and continued, "Our chances are almost nonexistent, but they are still better than if we just sit here. The next world might be bad, but at least it might have electricity. And people who understand how it works. I can't actually repair any portals in a world where people still pray the sun comes up every morning, for Christ's sake."</p> <p>"Right." She took a moment to consider. "But what if we just… waited a few months?"</p> <p>"For <em>what</em>?"</p> <p>"I dunno," Barlowe said. "Surely someone back home is looking for us. They aren't powerless. They have structures in place that can help us, maybe open another portal—"</p> <p>He actually laughed. "Listen to yourself! No, Ann, we don't have 'structures in place' for when multiversal travelers go AWOL! They don't even have contact with our original intended destination. For what it's worth, they might've not even noticed that we are gone!"</p> <p>"But—"</p> <p>"No, there is no 'but' here, for god's sake. Promise me you will jump with me first thing tomorrow. Please. We can't just sit here with nothing but hope to back us up. Ask Robert Scranton how much hope did for him. This is how people <em>die</em>, Ann."</p> <p>She looked him dead in the eyes. "No."</p> <p>He tilted his head. "'No'?"</p> <p>"No. I will not risk losing all of this for some vague chance that things will be better. I don't care, Madden. I genuinely don't. I am free, here." For emphasis, she moved her fingers, letting purple fire dance around it for a few moments. "We have food, we have shelter, we have everything we could need. We have <em>time</em>. We can figure things out."</p> <p>"Oh, so you get god powers and suddenly think it's okay to just exploit people? You seriously see no issue with all of this?"</p> <p>"No." Her expression hardened. "And neither should you."</p> <p>For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They just awkwardly sat there, silently staring at each other, the muffled sounds of the ceremony vaguely dancing around their ears.</p> <p>"Figure something out, for god's sake," Ann eventually said, starting to walk back towards the main hall. "Figure something out, and don't lay your frustrations on me. You're the egghead here. So do your job. And until you do, or until someone comes and rescues us, I will enjoy living like this." She unveiled the rest of the hall, flooding their little corner with sounds and smells. She turned to face him. "And I seriously suggest that you do the same."</p> <p>And without a further word, she just left.</p> <hr/> <p>Madden and Barlowe didn't speak much for the next few weeks that followed.</p> <p>They did share <em>some</em> time together, of course — they didn't remain total strangers. They ate together and they greeted each other whenever they'd see the other during the day, but other than that… they each did their own thing, most of the time. Barlowe was busy training and refining her newly-obtained god-like powers; be it for her benefit or to better pretend how to be an actual deity, nobody could really say. Madden, meanwhile, was knee-deep in researching SCP-6172. He might've helped build it, but even he wasn't all-knowing, as much as it pained him — he only did some of the calculations of the Humes, the Scrantons, the ontokinetic-flux fields, and other made-up-sounding properties necessary for its launch. So he put on his glasses and got to work, ready to 'figure something out'.</p> <p>After more than ten days of non-stop examination, he came to only one conclusion, one that didn't surprise him in the slightest: the portal was irreparable.</p> <p>Robert consulted Ra — who, despite Robert and Ann's fight, remained a relatively neutral diplomat, even if she was quite bad at it — many times about many things, asking her questions he didn't have the slightest ideas about. He too learned a lot about subjects he never even considered venturing into: alchemical theory, basic thaumatology; things like that. He studied them so that, perhaps, something would come to him, some brilliant design he could execute and get them the hell out of there without jumping blind.</p> <p>But even Ra's knowledge wasn't infinite. They might've done a lot together, but soon, they hit a wall — one they couldn't pass without someone more knowledgeable than them. Even his own <a href="/fresh-blood">anomalous quirk</a>, a trait aimed at ambiently pointing him towards more anomalous solutions to his mathematical problems, didn't help here. He might've gotten alchemical and ontokinetic theories under control, but he had no idea how to actually merge them, how to really bring their arts together in such a way as to create the portal the way him and his colleagues had done back home.</p> <p>Without a shred of doubt, they were stuck here. The only other alternative was jumping in blind.</p> <p>That realization marked a new chapter for their life there. He would've soon grown bored, had he not noticed that he needed a change in his life, something else to do besides just science; and it wasn't like he he was built for living on a farm or chopping wood or whatever else it was the local people had done in their lives. He couldn't just sit back and pretend to be a god all day, either. So he hatched up a plan: he told Jacob that him and Ra and Ann wanted to learn about the local customs, directly from him. In truth, he wasn't really interested in how things were here — he still found the idea of the whole reality more than uncomfortable — but it was better than doing nothing.</p> <p>And so they learned.</p> <p>From the history of how this world came to be — even if muddied by obvious legend nonsense and utter and thoroughly bland lies and stories of "Great Breaches" and all of the "Saints" — to how a god should behave, they soaked up the knowledge like a sponge. They soon learned that, apparently, living gods are a rarity here. In the grand scheme of things, them and Jacob were almost a curiosity. Most folk from around the world — such as the Seven-worshipping peoples of Kannada or of the folk raised on fables of invisible and forgotten wars fought in Colo-Rado — didn't know their patrons. They were nothing more than statues and figures to pray to, but them? They were a sight to behold. They were <em>real</em>.</p> <p>Ra noted it with academic interest; Madden with an invisible twitch; Barlowe with a wide smile.</p> <p>But soon, even <em>that</em> subject ran dry; after all, for how long could they study what was basically fiction? They all grew bored not two weeks later, and they got back to their own activities, Ann flinging Aethers at whatever she fancied, using her irrilite arm to its fullest; Ra going around the temple, trying to understand how to bridge the gap between her two friends as best as she could; Robert coming up with one final plan, the one that would finally — <em>finally</em> — get them out of here.</p> <p>And after more than two months, he finally cracked it.</p> <hr/> <p>Ann came to him, that evening. She never did this.</p> <p>"Hey," she said, something almost akin to embarrassment present in her voice. She entered his room — his lair, as he liked to call it to nobody — with curiosity. She had never been here, not since they arrived, and seeing that Madden had transformed a former storage room into a bedroom, a science lab, a resting station for Ra (who now remained unconscious while she was backing up her data) and a living room — all the while maintaining the structure of the SCP-6172 apparatus found within (not that she noticed it, coming in; it was covered behind curtains at the far end of the room) — left quite an impression on her. "I… I was hoping to talk to you."</p> <p>Madden lifted his head from his mattress — a dirty thing put together from different hay bales gifted to them during the ceremonies, but a place he could sleep on nonetheless — and looked at Ann. He didn't even try to hide his surprise at her arrival. "Oh. I… Come in." He stood up, throwing nonexistent dust off his clothes, and came closer towards her. "What can I do for you?"</p> <p>She too came closer. She was still wearing her robe, but it was now tied a bit more efficiently than the almost priestly way that Jacob had worn it; it was clear that she had adapted it so that it wasn't a pain in the ass when she was training. Still, that deviation from the norm did nothing to take the attention away from her face, one filled with something almost akin to loneliness and… regret?</p> <p>"I wanted to apologize to you," she said, the words very obviously not coming easily to her. "For what I said during our first day. I shouldn't have been such an asshole. You were just trying to help."</p> <p>He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, faking something almost like anger. Things were going <em>exactly</em> as he had planned. "Oh. You came to apologize."</p> <p>"Y-Yeah." She nodded her head energetically, though this time with much more hesitation. She was suspicious of his reaction. He didn't need to be a mage to feel it.</p> <p>"And out of all things to apologize for, you chose <em>that one</em>, huh?"</p> <p>She furrowed her eyebrows and came closer. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she said, her tone hard.</p> <p>"Gee, I don't know," he also took a step forward. He didn't like doing this, but he had to. He was this close to finishing what he had planned. "I was kind of hoping you would feel sorry for, you know, exploiting poor and naive people for your own gain and then having an issue with me for thinking it's not okay, but what do I know."</p> <p>She was getting angry now. She came even closer, straightening her posture, making very sure to highlight the one-head difference in height between them. "What did you say?"</p> <p>He scoffed. "No, no. Nothing. Don't worry about it." He waved his hand at her. "Just keep practicing your cool new magic powers. I'm sure that'll change much."</p> <p>He could practically feel her breath, now. "Oh, I'm fucking <em>sorry</em> that great Robert Madden doesn't get magic powers like I do." She stabbed him in his chest with her finger; he allowed it to make it seem like she forced him to take a step back. "Maybe if you just spent half your fucking life in some shithole in Russia with magical old farts instead of deep in books with your friends and fami— Oh right, you don't have those. Well, neither did I. Maybe should've thought about it earlier."</p> <p>That one hurt. She knew that. He didn't have to fake his pain. Still he took a few steps backwards nonetheless, feeling his feet enter the hay of his mattress. She followed him.</p> <p>She was furious, now, so she continued, not really paying much attention to her surroundings, "I come to you — to your dirty awful fucking mancave — extending a hand, and what do you do?!" She tapped his chest again, this time much more firmly. "You spit on me, you…"</p> <p>They were standing near the wall of the place, now. It was a makeshift thing, the border of the room drawn by a red curtain. There was still more than half the area behind it, but Barlowe didn't know that — but Madden very much did. He resisted the urge to smile.</p> <p>"I tried to be good, but if this is how you want it to be, sure. Whatever. I don't need you." She looked him deep in the eyes, and spat out, "So. Fuck—" She stabbed him in the chest one more time, making him fall beyond the curtain. "<em>You</em>!"</p> <p>The moment he fell through, two things happened at once.</p> <p>He brought down the entirety of the curtain, making sure to grab it while he was still in the air. He pulled it hard — there was no room for error, here. It fell down without any issues. And then — the very second he touched the ground, the red fabric meeting the cold concrete with him — the SCP-6172 portal mainframe revealed itself to Barlowe, its full might finally visible to her, with no further curtain to obstruct it.</p> <p>Her eyes went wide.</p> <p>They went even wider when she saw the portal begin to light up.</p> <p>She knew it didn't have an electricity source. By all means, it shouldn't have worked, but just like in the last universe, it seemed that whatever it was — call it fate, entropy, or just the multiverse trying to balance itself out — it wasn't on her side.</p> <p>Robert smiled wide, hearing the frame begin to buzz.</p> <p>Ann tried to resist what was inevitable with all her might; she tried to throw her power at it, to somehow create a counterbalance to the pull of the portal she was beginning to feel. She screamed in frustration at her own stupidity and at that fucking asshole Madden, searching for something — <em>anything</em> — that she could grab onto.</p> <p>But the curtain — and everything else that could fulfill its role — were too far. Robert had very carefully made sure of that.</p> <p>Left powerless, all she could do was try and shout, "You fucking—" before being pulled in towards their new destination, Robert and Ra — the android only now regaining her lucidity, the pull forcing her out of her resting station — joining her not a few seconds later.</p> <p>And just like that, the portal closed behind her, the echo of Ann's voice dying mid-scream, leaving the room utterly and thoroughly silent.</p> <hr/> <p>Back home, the <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-120">baseline version of Site-120</a> wasn't much calmer than its alternate sibling; not that it could ever know it, of course.</p> <p>In a specially prepared ritual site deep within the facility, the twenty mages and wizards who were gathered around the thaumic circle engraved on the floor before them began their chant. Silently — fearing to interrupt the working — James Micheals and Ethan MacCarthy Jr. just observed their colleagues hard at work, praying without words that the ritual that they had designed to bring back their lost friends from across the multiverse would work. This was it: it either worked or it didn't. They had no further rescue options planned.</p> <p>The voices of the wizards changed paces and tones, frequently shifting between fear, happiness, and excitement, seemingly without any reason. But the scientists knew better than that; they knew, deep down, that it was an intricate little thing, the spell, a working so complex and multi-layered that their reason-bound minds couldn't ever even begin to fathom it. So they just stood there, observing as the flames burning atop candles mounted on each end of the ritual circle trembled with power at the completion of each verse, the room itself reverberating with the magic now filling it whole. They didn't speak a word, but from their eyes it was obvious that they observed the ritual with a healthy mix of fear and academic interest, the wonder almost akin to that of a child.</p> <p>For what felt like hours they stood there, all twenty-two of them, all bound by the hope that whatever it was they were doing would be enough to fix the mistakes they had made during the initial launch of their Project Hermes. They still weren't sure what caused this whole problem — their technicians were hard at work compiling data, but it wasn't of much help, not really — but they were certain that everyone inside this room was an accomplice in this mess even happening in the first place. So they did what little they thought they could to try and correct their mistake.</p> <p>Eventually, after subjective eons of chanting, the mages stopped. They were all silent, now, but from their expressions and hands it was clear that they were still hard at work; the spell might've been completed, but they still needed to use the energy they had just crafted to actually finish their ritual. They were all trembling, their faces practically white with focus. Their eyes were closed, but even through their eyelids and in the limited light of a room only illuminated by candles Micheals could still see that their irises were burning with power.</p> <p>And then — right as Micheals thought the ritual proper would ever begin, right as he was beginning to worry that something might've gone wrong — his wizard colleagues released their spell, flooding the room and the circle within it with pure, intricately-molded magical energy.</p> <p>Instantly, a strong breeze swept past the room, and all of the lights went out.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="earthworm earthworm--old-syntax-first-flase earthworm--old-syntax-last-false earthworm--old-syntax-hub-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="The Mind Electric"> <p><a href="/the-mind-electric">The Mind Electric</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Chronicles of the Irreal"> <p><a href="/chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub">Chronicles of the Irreal</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Let the Maze of My Design Carry You On"> <p><a href="/let-the-maze-of-my-design-carry-you-on">Let the Maze of My Design Carry You On</a></p> </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="/time-machine-en">Time Machine</a>" by JakdragonX and Ralliston, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/time-machine-en">https://scpwiki.com/time-machine-en</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> </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: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>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] Co-written by [[user JakdragonX]] and [[user Ralliston]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/jakdragonx-rage-collection JakdragonX's Authorpage] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage Ralliston's Authorpage] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ongoing-incident-jakdragonx-ralliston JakdragonX's AND Ralliston's Shared Authorpage] [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] @@ @@ One might imagine that zapping into another universe for a third time now would've made the process easier. Robert Madden could certainly believe it; he was no a stranger to mathematical truths that transcended reality. For him, the third time wasn't //just// the charm; as someone whose anomalous traits made his life inherently intertwined with para-mathematical formulas, the third time almost always meant guaranteed success. [[[the-mind-electric\|So when he and his accomplices in getting stranded across the multiverse jumped blind to another reality for a third time in a row]]], he silently hoped this way between worlds would finally bring them back home. It very much didn't. When he opened his eyes again, Madden immediately realized two things: that he had lost his consciousness sometime during interdimensional travel, and that he and his friends were now standing -- or, in Madden's case, laying -- on a barren field in the middle of nowhere. Blinking twice he quickly sat up, correcting his glasses. His eyes focused on the bright blue horizon above him, the midday sky bereft of anything even barely resembling a cloud. He took a deep breath and realized that he could feel the tall grass almost burying what little height he had to call his own. For a few seconds, he almost considered staying where he had landed, giving into that surprisingly enjoyable tranquility around him and resting for just a few minutes. He didn't consider that for long. "Oh for-- Madden!" Ann Barlowe shouted somewhere in the distance. "Madden, you twat! Come out!" He sighed, stood up, and waved to his two companions. A few meters before him, the alchemist and the android stood, both staring at him with exhausted faces, the frustration visible even in the posture of Ra's robotic body. Barlowe furrowed her eyebrows. "I am so sick of everyone trying to kill us," she grumbled, now closer, stretching her arms upward above her head. After a grunt, pause, and an audible sigh of relief -- whether at the fact that Madden was safe or at the realization that her body remained unharmed despite the fall, Madden couldn't quite tell -- Barlowe looked towards him as he finally regained all of his senses. "How many more of these are we going to have to jump through until we make it back home, huh? Can we even //make it// back home?" "I-I have no idea," he stuttered. "You have to consider all the ontokinetic fluxes, and--" She furrowed her brows even further. "It was a rhetorical question." She puffed out, trying to notice anything particularly discerning about their whereabouts that wasn't just the field. She failed; it stretched pretty much all across the horizon. Madden took a deep, careful breath. "So, Ra, where are we?" "{{We are in the middle of an empty field.}}" The .aic sighed. "{{Whether we're still in this universe's equivalent of New York, I can't tell. I need more data to triangulate the geo--" She paused for a moment. "Actually, never mind. I can detect a faint Foundation presence nearby. It's different than our own, but that's definitely the digital signature of Site-120's -- and SCP-6172's -- SCiPNET.}}" Madden smiled at Barlowe, resisting the urge to say that it wasn't all that bad. He knew better than to tempt fate like that. Barlowe didn't match his good mood. "That's not as good as you think it is," she spat out. "We took our chances with 'similar Foundation signatures' before, and so far we're at two to zero in terms of it being bad." Ra nodded her head in acknowledgment, but quickly also tilted it, carefully looking at Barlowe. "{{Ann, are you all right? You see, to be--}}" "No, I'm not fucking all right. I'm very not fucking all right." She breathed out, heavily. "I'm stranded in god-knows-where with two people who have absolutely no idea how to fix it. I'm worried sick about my cats and and my friends and oh don't forget about the fact that I haven't showered or shat well in a //fucking week// and--" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, the spark of fury that had previously been within them was gone. "Sorry. It's something in the air. It's gotta be something in the goddamned air." Madden raised an eyebrow. Barlowe slowly moved her hands through the surrounding sky, as if she was trying to touch -- or feel -- something that was barely there, just at the edge of her cognition. "It's just..." she tried to say. "It feels different, here. Different than back home." She blinked and snapped out of her apparent trance, waving with one of her hands. "Sorry. It's probably nothing. Post-interdimensional travel motion sickness. Don't worry about it." Even if he wanted to say that there was no such thing as 'post-interdimensional travel motion sickness', Madden didn't pursue the subject further. Instead, he turned to face Ra. "Can you lead us to that source you mentioned? If it's a -120, it's almost certain that's where this reality's [[[scp-6172\|6172]]] is. We could get out of here pronto. This time maybe even after having it calibrated." "{{Certainly.}}" The android nodded, and took the first step forward towards their destination. "{{Let's go.}}" ---- It was a seriously massive mistake to accept Ra's definition of 'relatively close by'. Even after a few hours of walking, they still hadn't found anything, not even a stray Foundation insignia. As the group continued onward, sweat and grime caked the sides of Barlowe's face, oddly reminiscent of that one time when she had shoved her finger into hot candle wax as a child, still not understanding how to bend flame to her liking. Under the blazing midday sun, fatigue was starting to lock up her joints and ankles in retaliation against the added strain. Judging by Madden's face -- and the sounds Ra's mechanical body was starting to make -- exhaustion and overheating were starting to take their toll on them, too. Eventually, a few steps further, Barlowe decided that she was done. "What are you doing?" Madden said as he narrowed his eyes, seeing Ann simply lay on the ground. "You can't just--" She wasn't listening anymore. She was far too gone, appreciating the little comfort that the plain around them offered. It had truly been a while since she'd enjoyed the simple pleasure of lying on grass, she realized. It had also been a while since she'd enjoyed the even simpler pleasure of the sun, too -- so she rejoiced in the moment for as little as she knew it would last, gently caressing the tall tufts all around her. For just a split second, she touched the grass and felt something, like some itch in the back of her brain, and-- Before she could realize it, she was one with the grass. Her essence and that of nature, fully intertwined for just a split second, and-- She suddenly blinked and felt herself wake up from the trance, noticing an angry and tired Madden shouting at her from above her. She ignored him, instead deciding to stretch her fingers, carefully savoring that peculiar static at the edge of her fingertips. And then she knew what it meant. "Oh shit," she mouthed, quickly standing up. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh //shit//!" She was shouting with excitement, now, almost like a little girl who had just opened her Christmas present. "What the //hell//." "Are-Are you okay?" Madden said, concern in his voice. "What are you--" She grabbed him by his shoulders, a wide smile plastered all across her face. "The Seal. The Grand Seal of Alchemy. It's gone in this world, Robert. It's fucking gone. Do you realize what that means?!" Robert didn't, so she continued, "[[[the-alchemy-department-hub\|Every alchemical particle, every Aether we had locked back home behind the Seal]]] is free here, Robert. All of them. I can—" She took a deep breath, making sure to taste the world all around her, its smells finally unraveling itself before her until she was met with enough stimuli to satisfy a small labrador. "I can feel //everything//. All of it, the Aethers it's made from. And I can—" She giggled, and simply waved her hand. Before the others could blink, they were in the sky, all three soaring through the air as if they were born with the knowledge of how to fly. All it took was Barlowe's subconscious thoughts, feeling and attuning with the energies of a universe now free, feeling and bending the particles of all that was to her liking. It wasn't like back home -- here, she had far more than just air, earth, fire, water, and electricity, to play with. She was greeted by the particles of the light, of the sun, of the clouds, of winds north and south and east and west, of breezes scorching hot and freezing cold, of rains and hurricanes and thunders, and she could use it all however she liked, and-- She couldn't resist the urge to just scream out into the blue void around her. Her companions were also screaming, she suddenly realized, but not from excitement; rather, they were quite terrified at the fact that their friend had just acquired the ability to fly, taking them for a trip across the skies with her. Instead of slowing down, though, she just floored her metaphysical gas, turning them into what could be considered a category five meteorological hazard; still soaring towards their inevitable destination, now no longer beyond the reach of their horizon. When she slowed down a few moments later, she realized they had traveled many kilometers in what was basically a few seconds. She blinked twice, surprised to feel no exhaustion, no strain at all in her body from using such tremendously ridiculous amounts of magical power. She soon realized that there was something far more shocking to be surprised at; before them, she now could see, a small rural town stood. Between its tiny houses constructed out of wood and hay, animal pens, and planting fields, there was a grand, half-ruined temple made from concrete and bricks, located atop a vague hill and beyond a small river. A grand, half-ruined temple that looked almost exactly like the Site-120 back home. Barlowe narrowed her eyes, and carefully -- making sure that none of her fragile companions got hurt in the process -- lowered them all three to the ground, landing right before the gates to the city. ----- The second they entered, they were the talk of the town. Making their way across the dirty pathways, uneven houses, and farm animals walking right next to people dressed in what looked like medieval clothing, they couldn't help but feel awkward. Wherever they went, still guided by the inevitable destination of the temple right above the horizon, they were treated like some terrible curiosity. In the eyes of the townsfolk, they could see a strange mix of respect, fear, and... could it be hope? And so they continued their march in relative silence, none of them really wanting to speak a word, as they brought the awkward tranquility to more and more squares within the town. The people whispered to themselves, sometimes pointing at Ann and Ra -- far more rarely at Robert -- but never really speaking to any of the multiversal newcomers. It was as if they were intimidated; too intimidated to even consider themselves as equal to those that walked their streets before them. But seeing as it gave them easy access forward towards the temple, neither Ann, nor Ra or Robert really questioned it. They just continued their stride forward, walking until they arrived right before the temple. The building was almost identical to the Site-120 that they knew of back home, they quickly realized: well, it //would// be almost identical to it if their Site-120 had been quietly in ruin for more than a few centuries, its walls overgrown by vines and several markings the meanings of which neither of them could really understand. There were torches all around the building, they noticed, their flames dancing joyfully beneath banners sewn from red cloth, several figures depicted on each of the flags. There were five of them -- three men and two women -- all standing above a town, brilliant three-arrowed halos of yellow mounted above their heads. Their hands were full of light and turned to face the city, as if the banner tried to say that their blessings were the only thing that kept the town from total collapse. Barlowe felt like she almost recognized the figures. Though they didn't say as much, Ra and Madden shared the feeling. When they turned back from examining the banners to the rest of the temple, the three immediately realized that its gates were sealed shut. "That's... far from ideal," Robert said, narrowing his eyes. "I was hoping we could--" Ann scoffed, amused, and gave Robert a heavy look. With one flick of her hand -- and one thought, quicker than lightning -- she felt the steel structure of the gate as if she had always known it by heart. She gave it just the faintest of pushes, and the essence of the door merged with hers, entirely surrendering its inanimate soul to the superior form of the alchemist. It opened with a heavy creak. "Voilà," Barlowe said, proudly looking at her work. She smiled and entered the temple, urging her two companions to follow along. Inside they were greeted by an almost identical replica of Site-120's aboveground portion, though this time decorated with more banners, torches, and red carpets. Back home, this part of the facility served as little more than the cover front for the rest of Site-120's operations, masquerading the site as a long-abandoned industrial plant; here, though, it felt like they were inside a church. The stained glass that replaced the panels that illuminated their version of the facility didn't help, either. Neither did the painting that stood right before them, at the far end of the hall. It depicted the same five figures as before, but this time in far more detail. You could see the curly blondes and straight reds of the hair of the two women -- just as well as you could see the longer darks and short grays of the three men. Their clothing, too, was given far more attention; the runed gloves of one of the men and what looked like labcoats of all five were now visible, the care taken to make them look just as realistic as possible almost staggering. What was even more staggering, though, was how many colors their halos now had -- it was as if the light of the gods themselves was what radiated from the figures, and-- Oh. Ann suddenly realized that what she was looking at was a terrifyingly accurate -- and terrifyingly religious -- depiction of Site-120's Director Council. The three turned their sights below, finding a throne made of what looked like solid gold sitting right below the painting. Atop it sat a young, lanky man, his curly red hair ridden by the occasional strip of blonde. He was wearing red robes and was surrounded by people in identical clothing as those they had seen in the village, carrying around plates of fruit and cups of wine. They avoided the man's eyes as best as they could, bowing their heads towards him each time they passed him. Ann narrowed her eyes, then exchanged a look with Ra. She nodded, confirming Ann's suspicions. "You have got to be shitting me," Ann tried to whisper, but her voice carried itself well throughout the hall, the echo filling the ears of each person inside. They all turned to look at them, the face of the young man atop the throne first twisting with shock, then with fear, and finally with utter and thorough confusion. "I..." Robert tried to say, gulping hard. He didn't enjoy being the center of attention, much less that of twenty or so servants walking around the man right in front of him. The man just sighed, his eyes now glistering with realization. "Oh welcome, great travelers from lands beyond the sky! How was your journey all the way from Kannada? Are the Seven well? Is the Maiden doing all right?" He might've spoken with kindness, but his eyes were cold, calculating; it was very clear he was doing his best to make out what the hell was going on. Ann started walking towards him, urging the others to follow her example and bow down slightly. "We thank thee for thy warm welcome, oh Lord of the Protectorate, oh Lord of the Contained!" The servants were now giving them more than enough space to pass through, their heads also bowed towards Ann, Ra, and Robert, showing similar respect as they had towards the man atop the throne. "Our journey was long but pleasant. How great to finally feel the warmth of the sun again!" They were standing before him, now, and they could see that his skin was almost as pale as paper, his purple eyes sunken. A minor reality bender, then. "I am very glad you made it just in time for the ceremony!" he exclaimed, stepping off his throne. Judging by the reactions of his subjects, this didn't happen often. "Please, allow me to show you to your chambers as my humans begin to prepare the temple for an appropriate welcome!" He started walking towards the red curtains behind his throne, revealing that behind them there stood a staircase. In their world, it led to the sublevels of the facility; they couldn't begin to fathom what further curiosities awaited behind them in this reality, though. The man started walking down them, showing them to come along. "Please, follow me." ----- His mask of hospitality fell off the second they were alone. "What the hell are you thinking?! Who are you?!" he whisper-shouted, making sure none of his servants heard him. Since none of them were here -- the room around them was a small corridor leading to two elevators, which didn't function in this reality -- he had to do little more than keep his voice down to make sure they were paid no attention. He still struggled to do as much. "This is //my// realm, you hear that? My realm! Go back to your Ur'tec or Pit if you want to--" Ann sighed, and massaged her temples. "I think we got off the wrong foot, here." She extended her hand. "I'm Ann Barlowe. This is Robert Madden and Ra." She pointed at her companions. "I'm an alchemist. He's a scientist. She's-- Actually never mind. Point is, we're not from this world. We come from a different reality." The man calmed down, confusion replacing the anger in his posture. "Oh. What. What... what world. What." This time, Madden was the one to sigh. "All right. So." He corrected his glasses, much to the man's further confusion. "We are not from here. Outside your own reality, there are other worlds -- worlds in which history happened differently. We come from one of those. We had an accident during a magical experiment—" He ignored Barlowe's heavy look. "—and we ended up stranded across other realities. This is the third one we've visited, now." "Oh," the man said. "Oh. Well then. Right. Okay. That's a lot. I just thought you came here to kill me and take my throne." He paused, taking a moment to take it all in. He eventually turned back to face them, and cleared his throat. " I'm Jacob Rivera-Cornwell." He extended his hand. For just a second, Ann's eyes widened at the impossibility of what she was hearing, but she soon blinked twice, putting the thoughts aside and accepting Jacob's gesture. "Can you tell us what the hell happened here?" Jacob tilted his head. "What do you mean, 'what the hell happened here'?" Robert sighed. "Oh boy." "Okay, so," Barlowe said, carefully choosing her words. "Back in our world, we... we aren't worshipped. Society isn't fractured. What happened?" It looked like the man was about to laugh. "Oh, you mean //that//! Right. Not much, I don't think. [[[doctors-of-the-church-hub\|It's always been like that. Ever since I was born a god]]]. You guys don't get worshipped? That's awful. Really sorry. I for one don't get much to complain about. I get fed by people who respect my authority--" "'Authority'?" Ann asked. "Oh, right, you haven't seen yet. I'm kind of a big deal around here. Not just a demigod! I'm born of two gods, I'm... Actually, I think it'll be better if I just show you." He flicked his hands, a brief spark of purple running past his eyes, and on his palm there now stood an apple. "Ta-dah! I can make things. You know, because of my parents and all. Like I said, big deal!" Ann resisted the urge to sigh. She also resisted the urge to tell Jacob that that was //nothing//, using her newfound powers to rearrange the molecular structure of the entire floor as well as his guts, and-- She took a deep breath and put on a smile. "Right. Yeah. That's great. Really, really great. We--" Madden cut in, "Do you by any chance have a big buzzing thing around here, about the shape of a hexagon, and--" "What in the seven hells is a 'hexagon'?" Madden closed his eyes. "//Oh boy//. So--" Ra cut him off, displaying the picture of the SCP-6172 portal on the TV screen mounted in place of her head. Jacob snapped his fingers. "Oh, you mean the old gateway! Yeah, it's down there." He pointed to the empty elevator shaft. "Haven't touched it since mom passed though, really. Never had a knack for magic." "Fantastic. We will just need to fix it, and we'll be gone before you can blink." "Yeah, that's great. I was worried your stay would undermine my-- Ah, I almost forgot!" Jacob snapped his fingers. "Like I was saying up there, you're just in time for the ceremony! You absolutely cannot miss it!" He was almost beaming with joy now. "The ceremony?" Madden asked. "Oh, you know, the festival we throw in my name once every moon. It's great!" He smiled. "Oh, and now that you're here, we can throw it in //your// name, too! I'll have to make some preparations." He was already halfway across the stairs. "And don't worry about it! You'll just have to give the peasants a few miracles and whatnot, but ah." he waved his hands. "I'm sure even teeny gods like you can manage one or two. "Give me just a few seconds and I'll be //right// back. I need to tell my servants we will need three more thrones!" And just like that, Jacob stepped up onto ground floor, and he was gone. Ann, Ra, and Robert eyed each other. "What the hell," the first one said. "{{What the hell,}}" the second one agreed. "Good lord," Madden said, putting his hands together. "What a mess. What a goddamned mess. What do we do about this?" He turned to face Ra. "{{Well, if what Jacob was saying was right -- and my signals tell me it was -- then this version of Site-120 has its own SCP-6172. And since he doesn't look like he's about to kill us, we could safely calibrate it and go back home.}}" "Right," Ann said, nodding her head. "And we would have things to eat and places to sleep." Madden furrowed his brows. "And what about those people? Wouldn't you feel bad exploiting the work of others under the pretext of being better than them?" "That's called capitalism and I've been enjoying it for more than twenty years back home," she replied, snark present in her voice. "In all seriousness, though, yeah, no. If they have water and food I couldn't give a rat's ass. I'm starving. Besides," she said. "We'll only be here for a few days at most. We come in, tune our portal, and //schwoop//." She popped her mouth. "We're back home." "{{That does seem to be the best course of action,}}" Ra agreed. "{{We should wait here until me and Robert can gather more data and get us back home.}}" Ann nodded in agreement. "And until then, we can enjoy living the dream. And participating in the ceremony. Oh, don't be such a killjoy," she added, noticing Madden's frown. "I'm sure it'll be pretty fun." ------ The ceremony was, indeed, pretty fun. Ann didn't think the temple's decorations could get any more ridiculous than before, but there they were. Instead of just one throne and one carpet leading to it, there were now four, one for each of the false gods this whole mess was organized to celebrate. Of course, Jacob's still remained the largest, but that didn't mean that the smaller chairs Madden, Barlowe, and Ra got were any less pompous. Neither were the brown -- Jacob said that red was //his// color, thank you very much -- robes that each of them was provided with. Instead of complaining, though, the three just did what Jacob said, and sat back, ready to endure the ceremony. The people came exactly at midnight. There were tons of them, almost more people than Robert had ever seen in one place (not like Madden had much experience with large gatherings of people, but still). They started pouring into the temple, each of them dressed like it was their wedding (if this world even had a concept of weddings, that was), each carrying a basket or box or barrel or whatever else of fruit, wine, meat, spices, clothing, and every gift possible under the sun. They were all almost trembling with respect, their heads bowed as they approached their gods, offering whatever it was they had with them to those they thought its rulers. They came, begging for health for their family and for the crop season to be good and for their sons and daughters to return safe from their hunts, and prayed to Jacob -- the Lord of the Containment, as they called him here -- that the gift they gave was enough for him to still safeguard them from the monsters of the night. Judging by his expression, Jacob very much enjoyed this. Having worked first at the Foundation and then at Vanguard, Robert had experience with people who thought themselves gods -- and this, right here, he realized, was more than just a display. The man genuinely believed that he was a deity, or at least the spawn thereof. Back home, they had words to explain reality-bending and ontokinesis and all other forms of what basically amounted to working the world to your will, but here? Here, such a gift was more than just a skill to describe with science, to study and catalog and note down -- here, it was a sign of the gods that survived their 'Great Breach' (whatever it was, Madden wasn't sure; he'd picked up the name a few times in prayers but couldn't make much sense of it) that those who bore it were the chosen, the holy avatars that were to be feared and worshipped. And from Jacob's posture, his face, his actions -- the occasional act of actually bending reality as a makeshift miracle to enthrall the people before him -- from his reaction to everything that was going on, it was clear that he didn't realize what a farce this was. He genuinely did think that everything his subjects said was true. He //loved// this. What was even more concerning, Robert soon realized, was that Ann's face betrayed the same enjoyment, too. Throughout it all, Robert and Ra stayed silent, accepting being named the sacred protector-gods of wisdom and lighting respectively with relative dignity. They knew that this wasn't their world, and as much as they hated the customs here, it wasn't their right to interfere with them, to break that illusion. So they just sat back and occasionally said something like "bless thy souls" or "thy father shall make a great recovery" or whatever else it was they thought gods would say. But they never really enjoyed it, no; it was a viscerally uncomfortable thing to both of them, to be somehow put up above others and worshipped in this ridiculous masquerade. They accepted that they had to endure it, silently praying that the ceremony be over soon, but not for one second did they take enjoyment out of this. But Barlowe very much did. Each time one of the people approached her she didn't hold back, unleashing her full alchemical might, finally unbound in this world, to perform what the townsfolk surely thought of as miracles. She bent flame and air and and concrete and steel and bricks and wood and cloth and fruit to create and repair and destroy many things, beautiful things, according to what those who cowered before her asked for. She rejoiced in it, almost, the spark of excitement that sat deep within her eyes making sure that the rest of the world saw that she was having a great time. Perhaps the best time she had had in a long, long time. Seeing her reaction made Madden all the more uncomfortable. Eventually, after a few hours of this nonsense, Madden began to grow restless. He couldn't take it anymore. Were it not for Barlowe's reaction, he might've even been able to endure it all, but her response to the mess was what crossed the line for him. So, instead of waiting god-knew-how-many-more-hours for it to end, he just sighed, stood up from his throne, and retreated to the part of the room that was covered behind red curtains. Seeing him stand up, Jacob and Barlowe's eyes went wide; first with confusion, then with fear. Madden couldn't see it, of course, but he //could// hear the alchemist saying something like, "My dear subjects, I shall return to thee momentarily! My good friend and your god needs to speak with me, lest we wish to risk curses befall our own subjects! But fear not -- my other friend shall remain with thee to care fare of thy needs!" or whatever else it was he could hear through the curtains. Moments later, she joined him, her face twisted with anger. "What do you //think// you're doing?" she ground through her teeth, crossing her arms. "You're risking the whole operation here!" He gave her a look heavier than the whole temple. "What am //I// doing? //What am I doing//? What the hell is all of this, huh? What the hell are //you// doing, Ann? Oh," he added, seeing a flash of anger go past her eyes, "don't give me that attitude, I could see you think we're having a wonderful fucking time back there." She scoffed. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right, I am. I think it's great that we can finally have a moment to rest, instead of being chased by the Foundation or the goddamned Coalition to be caged forever or shot. Yeah, I'm having a blast." She came a little closer. "What of it?" He narrowed his eyes. "And you see no issue with the fact that you're-- for fuck's sake, Ann, look at yourself! Look at us!" He pointed at their clothing. "You really don't see any issues with this ridiculous goddamned mess?" She narrowed her eyes, too. "No. I don't. We are safe. We are well fed. What more could you possibly ask for?!" she shouted, immediately realizing she was far louder than she had intended, judging by the fact that one of the servants which had previously ignored them and went around their day was now looking at them, eyes and mouth wide. Madden sighed, gave Barlowe a heavy look, and turned to face the poor girl they had just scared. "Sorry. God stuff." He pointed at Ann. "Her twenty-fifth son just ate my sixteenth cousin. Need to send a two-generation plague onto her town. You know how that goes." He didn't think the girl //did// know how that went, but she nevertheless quickly nodded in fearful agreement and swiftly backed off, getting away from the two not seconds later. When she was gone, Robert sighed again, massaged his temples, and corrected his glasses. "Look. Forget I even asked, okay? I wanted to talk about you about something anyway." She visibly calmed down, the anger now replaced by curiosity. "Yeah?" "I looked at this world's 6172, when we were preparing for this whole thing. It's ready to go." She blinked twice. "What? Like, right now?" "Yeah. I don't know how, but it's functioning even without an energy source. Just like last time. Maybe nature just abhors an inbalance, or--" "Then what the hell are we still doing here?" "Right, here comes the issue I actually wanted to discuss: I can't tune it. It's impossible." She tiled her head. "What do you mean you can't tune it?" "Right, so," Robert began, clearing his throat. "Back home, we had ridiculous thaumo-ontokinetic apparatus that literally bent the hole in reality the portal formed to redirect it. It was a lot, but the computers handled it well." He paused for a moment. "Issue is, this world doesn't have that. Whatever happened to this version of Site-120 to ruin it, it took our server rooms with it, too." She arched an eyebrow. "And how is that an issue? Can't you just, I don't know." She waggled her hands for a moment. "Rebuild it?" He scoffed. "Do you know how a computer works, Ann? Do you know how a thaumaturgic circuit works?" She flicked her fingers, letting the Aethers of electricity and silicon form around them for just a second. "No, but I can--" "//Do you know how a computer works//?" She furrowed her brows. "No." "Great, because neither do I. Ra probably does, but that doesn't change the fact that she has no idea how the rest of the stupidly complex apparatus it took to even control that thing works, let alone how to build it. And I'm a mathematician, not an IT technician." He paused and sighed. "Look, Ann. I hate to say it, but we can either rot away here forever, or we can jump blind, right now. Take all the food you want, wash yourself, whatever -- just promise me that we will go in as soon as we can." He met her eyes, and continued, "Our chances are almost nonexistent, but they are still better than if we just sit here. The next world might be bad, but at least it might have electricity. And people who understand how it works. I can't actually repair any portals in a world where people still pray the sun comes up every morning, for Christ's sake." "Right." She took a moment to consider. "But what if we just... waited a few months?" "For //what//?" "I dunno," Barlowe said. "Surely someone back home is looking for us. They aren't powerless. They have structures in place that can help us, maybe open another portal--" He actually laughed. "Listen to yourself! No, Ann, we don't have 'structures in place' for when multiversal travelers go AWOL! They don't even have contact with our original intended destination. For what it's worth, they might've not even noticed that we are gone!" "But--" "No, there is no 'but' here, for god's sake. Promise me you will jump with me first thing tomorrow. Please. We can't just sit here with nothing but hope to back us up. Ask Robert Scranton how much hope did for him. This is how people //die//, Ann." She looked him dead in the eyes. "No." He tilted his head. "'No'?" "No. I will not risk losing all of this for some vague chance that things will be better. I don't care, Madden. I genuinely don't. I am free, here." For emphasis, she moved her fingers, letting purple fire dance around it for a few moments. "We have food, we have shelter, we have everything we could need. We have //time//. We can figure things out." "Oh, so you get god powers and suddenly think it's okay to just exploit people? You seriously see no issue with all of this?" "No." Her expression hardened. "And neither should you." For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They just awkwardly sat there, silently staring at each other, the muffled sounds of the ceremony vaguely dancing around their ears. "Figure something out, for god's sake," Ann eventually said, starting to walk back towards the main hall. "Figure something out, and don't lay your frustrations on me. You're the egghead here. So do your job. And until you do, or until someone comes and rescues us, I will enjoy living like this." She unveiled the rest of the hall, flooding their little corner with sounds and smells. She turned to face him. "And I seriously suggest that you do the same." And without a further word, she just left. ----- Madden and Barlowe didn't speak much for the next few weeks that followed. They did share //some// time together, of course -- they didn't remain total strangers. They ate together and they greeted each other whenever they'd see the other during the day, but other than that... they each did their own thing, most of the time. Barlowe was busy training and refining her newly-obtained god-like powers; be it for her benefit or to better pretend how to be an actual deity, nobody could really say. Madden, meanwhile, was knee-deep in researching SCP-6172. He might've helped build it, but even he wasn't all-knowing, as much as it pained him -- he only did some of the calculations of the Humes, the Scrantons, the ontokinetic-flux fields, and other made-up-sounding properties necessary for its launch. So he put on his glasses and got to work, ready to 'figure something out'. After more than ten days of non-stop examination, he came to only one conclusion, one that didn't surprise him in the slightest: the portal was irreparable. Robert consulted Ra -- who, despite Robert and Ann's fight, remained a relatively neutral diplomat, even if she was quite bad at it -- many times about many things, asking her questions he didn't have the slightest ideas about. He too learned a lot about subjects he never even considered venturing into: alchemical theory, basic thaumatology; things like that. He studied them so that, perhaps, something would come to him, some brilliant design he could execute and get them the hell out of there without jumping blind. But even Ra's knowledge wasn't infinite. They might've done a lot together, but soon, they hit a wall -- one they couldn't pass without someone more knowledgeable than them. Even his own [[[fresh-blood\|anomalous quirk]]], a trait aimed at ambiently pointing him towards more anomalous solutions to his mathematical problems, didn't help here. He might've gotten alchemical and ontokinetic theories under control, but he had no idea how to actually merge them, how to really bring their arts together in such a way as to create the portal the way him and his colleagues had done back home. Without a shred of doubt, they were stuck here. The only other alternative was jumping in blind. That realization marked a new chapter for their life there. He would've soon grown bored, had he not noticed that he needed a change in his life, something else to do besides just science; and it wasn't like he he was built for living on a farm or chopping wood or whatever else it was the local people had done in their lives. He couldn't just sit back and pretend to be a god all day, either. So he hatched up a plan: he told Jacob that him and Ra and Ann wanted to learn about the local customs, directly from him. In truth, he wasn't really interested in how things were here -- he still found the idea of the whole reality more than uncomfortable -- but it was better than doing nothing. And so they learned. From the history of how this world came to be -- even if muddied by obvious legend nonsense and utter and thoroughly bland lies and stories of "Great Breaches" and all of the "Saints" -- to how a god should behave, they soaked up the knowledge like a sponge. They soon learned that, apparently, living gods are a rarity here. In the grand scheme of things, them and Jacob were almost a curiosity. Most folk from around the world -- such as the Seven-worshipping peoples of Kannada or of the folk raised on fables of invisible and forgotten wars fought in Colo-Rado -- didn't know their patrons. They were nothing more than statues and figures to pray to, but them? They were a sight to behold. They were //real//. Ra noted it with academic interest; Madden with an invisible twitch; Barlowe with a wide smile. But soon, even //that// subject ran dry; after all, for how long could they study what was basically fiction? They all grew bored not two weeks later, and they got back to their own activities, Ann flinging Aethers at whatever she fancied, using her irrilite arm to its fullest; Ra going around the temple, trying to understand how to bridge the gap between her two friends as best as she could; Robert coming up with one final plan, the one that would finally -- //finally// -- get them out of here. And after more than two months, he finally cracked it. ----- Ann came to him, that evening. She never did this. "Hey," she said, something almost akin to embarrassment present in her voice. She entered his room -- his lair, as he liked to call it to nobody -- with curiosity. She had never been here, not since they arrived, and seeing that Madden had transformed a former storage room into a bedroom, a science lab, a resting station for Ra (who now remained unconscious while she was backing up her data) and a living room -- all the while maintaining the structure of the SCP-6172 apparatus found within (not that she noticed it, coming in; it was covered behind curtains at the far end of the room) -- left quite an impression on her. "I... I was hoping to talk to you." Madden lifted his head from his mattress -- a dirty thing put together from different hay bales gifted to them during the ceremonies, but a place he could sleep on nonetheless -- and looked at Ann. He didn't even try to hide his surprise at her arrival. "Oh. I... Come in." He stood up, throwing nonexistent dust off his clothes, and came closer towards her. "What can I do for you?" She too came closer. She was still wearing her robe, but it was now tied a bit more efficiently than the almost priestly way that Jacob had worn it; it was clear that she had adapted it so that it wasn't a pain in the ass when she was training. Still, that deviation from the norm did nothing to take the attention away from her face, one filled with something almost akin to loneliness and... regret? "I wanted to apologize to you," she said, the words very obviously not coming easily to her. "For what I said during our first day. I shouldn't have been such an asshole. You were just trying to help." He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, faking something almost like anger. Things were going //exactly// as he had planned. "Oh. You came to apologize." "Y-Yeah." She nodded her head energetically, though this time with much more hesitation. She was suspicious of his reaction. He didn't need to be a mage to feel it. "And out of all things to apologize for, you chose //that one//, huh?" She furrowed her eyebrows and came closer. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she said, her tone hard. "Gee, I don't know," he also took a step forward. He didn't like doing this, but he had to. He was this close to finishing what he had planned. "I was kind of hoping you would feel sorry for, you know, exploiting poor and naive people for your own gain and then having an issue with me for thinking it's not okay, but what do I know." She was getting angry now. She came even closer, straightening her posture, making very sure to highlight the one-head difference in height between them. "What did you say?" He scoffed. "No, no. Nothing. Don't worry about it." He waved his hand at her. "Just keep practicing your cool new magic powers. I'm sure that'll change much." He could practically feel her breath, now. "Oh, I'm fucking //sorry// that great Robert Madden doesn't get magic powers like I do." She stabbed him in his chest with her finger; he allowed it to make it seem like she forced him to take a step back. "Maybe if you just spent half your fucking life in some shithole in Russia with magical old farts instead of deep in books with your friends and fami-- Oh right, you don't have those. Well, neither did I. Maybe should've thought about it earlier." That one hurt. She knew that. He didn't have to fake his pain. Still he took a few steps backwards nonetheless, feeling his feet enter the hay of his mattress. She followed him. She was furious, now, so she continued, not really paying much attention to her surroundings, "I come to you -- to your dirty awful fucking mancave -- extending a hand, and what do you do?!" She tapped his chest again, this time much more firmly. "You spit on me, you..." They were standing near the wall of the place, now. It was a makeshift thing, the border of the room drawn by a red curtain. There was still more than half the area behind it, but Barlowe didn't know that -- but Madden very much did. He resisted the urge to smile. "I tried to be good, but if this is how you want it to be, sure. Whatever. I don't need you." She looked him deep in the eyes, and spat out, "So. Fuck--" She stabbed him in the chest one more time, making him fall beyond the curtain. "//You//!" The moment he fell through, two things happened at once. He brought down the entirety of the curtain, making sure to grab it while he was still in the air. He pulled it hard -- there was no room for error, here. It fell down without any issues. And then -- the very second he touched the ground, the red fabric meeting the cold concrete with him -- the SCP-6172 portal mainframe revealed itself to Barlowe, its full might finally visible to her, with no further curtain to obstruct it. Her eyes went wide. They went even wider when she saw the portal begin to light up. She knew it didn't have an electricity source. By all means, it shouldn't have worked, but just like in the last universe, it seemed that whatever it was -- call it fate, entropy, or just the multiverse trying to balance itself out -- it wasn't on her side. Robert smiled wide, hearing the frame begin to buzz. Ann tried to resist what was inevitable with all her might; she tried to throw her power at it, to somehow create a counterbalance to the pull of the portal she was beginning to feel. She screamed in frustration at her own stupidity and at that fucking asshole Madden, searching for something -- //anything// -- that she could grab onto. But the curtain -- and everything else that could fulfill its role -- were too far. Robert had very carefully made sure of that. Left powerless, all she could do was try and shout, "You fucking--" before being pulled in towards their new destination, Robert and Ra -- the android only now regaining her lucidity, the pull forcing her out of her resting station -- joining her not a few seconds later. And just like that, the portal closed behind her, the echo of Ann's voice dying mid-scream, leaving the room utterly and thoroughly silent. ----- Back home, the [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-120\|baseline version of Site-120]]] wasn't much calmer than its alternate sibling; not that it could ever know it, of course. In a specially prepared ritual site deep within the facility, the twenty mages and wizards who were gathered around the thaumic circle engraved on the floor before them began their chant. Silently -- fearing to interrupt the working -- James Micheals and Ethan MacCarthy Jr. just observed their colleagues hard at work, praying without words that the ritual that they had designed to bring back their lost friends from across the multiverse would work. This was it: it either worked or it didn't. They had no further rescue options planned. The voices of the wizards changed paces and tones, frequently shifting between fear, happiness, and excitement, seemingly without any reason. But the scientists knew better than that; they knew, deep down, that it was an intricate little thing, the spell, a working so complex and multi-layered that their reason-bound minds couldn't ever even begin to fathom it. So they just stood there, observing as the flames burning atop candles mounted on each end of the ritual circle trembled with power at the completion of each verse, the room itself reverberating with the magic now filling it whole. They didn't speak a word, but from their eyes it was obvious that they observed the ritual with a healthy mix of fear and academic interest, the wonder almost akin to that of a child. For what felt like hours they stood there, all twenty-two of them, all bound by the hope that whatever it was they were doing would be enough to fix the mistakes they had made during the initial launch of their Project Hermes. They still weren't sure what caused this whole problem -- their technicians were hard at work compiling data, but it wasn't of much help, not really -- but they were certain that everyone inside this room was an accomplice in this mess even happening in the first place. So they did what little they thought they could to try and correct their mistake. Eventually, after subjective eons of chanting, the mages stopped. They were all silent, now, but from their expressions and hands it was clear that they were still hard at work; the spell might've been completed, but they still needed to use the energy they had just crafted to actually finish their ritual. They were all trembling, their faces practically white with focus. Their eyes were closed, but even through their eyelids and in the limited light of a room only illuminated by candles Micheals could still see that their irises were burning with power. And then -- right as Micheals thought the ritual proper would ever begin, right as he was beginning to worry that something might've gone wrong -- his wizard colleagues released their spell, flooding the room and the circle within it with pure, intricately-molded magical energy. Instantly, a strong breeze swept past the room, and all of the lights went out. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=flase \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/the-mind-electric \| previous-title=The Mind Electric \| next-url=/let-the-maze-of-my-design-carry-you-on \| next-title=Let the Maze of My Design Carry You On \| hub-url=/chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub \| hub-title=Chronicles of the Irreal ]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=JakdragonX and Ralliston]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-08-30T15:38:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "alchemy-department", "co-authored", "doctors-of-the-church", "from-120s-archives", "post-apocalyptic", "tale" ]	Time Machine - SCP Foundation	34	[ "jakdragonx-rage-collection", "ralliston-s-authorpage", "ongoing-incident-jakdragonx-ralliston", "the-mind-electric", "scp-6172", "the-alchemy-department-hub", "doctors-of-the-church-hub", "fresh-blood", "secure-facility-dossier-site-120", "chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub", "let-the-maze-of-my-design-carry-you-on", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-alchemy-department-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "doctors-of-the-church-hub", "chronicles-of-the-irreal-hub" ]	[]	1449615332	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/time-machine-en
toi-et-personne-d-autre	<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%3Awondertainment/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><em>Usually, I always start my letters with something like "Dear blahblahblah". It’s always polite and, at this point, it’s a Pavlovian reflex, even when I’m not writing letters to customers.</em></p> <p><em>But here, that would be ridiculous of me to do so, clearly. After all, how can you do so when you’re writing a letter to… well, to Nobody ?</em></p> <p><em>Anyway.</em></p> <p><em>You know, if there’s something I’ll always say to the people around me, it’s that the best thing in life (and I do mean the best), it’s newness. Breaking out of the routine. Facing the unknown and seeing what we can get from it. You might think it’s one of those generic slogans I say to the Executive Board during meetings but it’s not true at all !</em></p> <p><em>I only told them that one time. I’m not even sure they understood what I meant. But anyway, I’m getting lost in thoughts, I’m not here to talk about work !</em></p> <p><em>What i’m trying to say is that when I think about new and mysterious things who are out of the routine, these days, it always comes back to you.</em></p> <p><em>I mean… someone who wears a trench and a fedora (you always made me think of those private detectives in those old movies. Which is weird, because I never liked it that much. Everyone is a bit too grouchy for my liking) who has no identity, travels the world without having to worry about anything. I just love to think about someone who doesn’t have to think about whatever chore we need to concern ourselves about, someone who goes wherever they want, someone who’s just… free.</em></p> <p><em>Yeah, that’s what you are. Free. I could surely spend my time trying to say it in a more poetic way but I know myself, when I try to say something in a more elaborated way, I always end up being confused and not knowing what I was trying to say at the beginning !</em></p> <p><em>But, to go back to the subject, having blurry memories about yourself, I know what it is. There’s also a lot of things about my life I can’t remember, too. When I try to remind myself of my past, I <a href="/miss-heir">always have</a> <a href="/adventures-in-capitalism-hub">different memories</a> <a class="newpage" href="/when-we-come-home">each time</a>. It’s really confusing but it doesn’t bother me that much. If there’s something important my father teached me, it’s that when you look too much at the past, it just ends up paralyzing us and leaving us with regrets. The only way to live a good life is to look at the future and to go towards it proudly and without fear ! I like to remind Emma and Jeremy of that, sometimes.</em></p> <p><em>I just realized I got lost in my own thoughts again. I hope you won’t mind it, I really don’t do it on purpose ! Truth is, it’s the first time I’m writing this sort of letter and… well, it’s complicated, actually ! To be completely honest, I’m spending more time trying to search my words than doing anything else. I had to restart writing this letter at least two times ! (OK, one of those two, I put a hole on my paper by accident)</em></p> <p><em>Oh, well. My point is that you fascinate me. Since I first came across you, there’s not a day I don’t ask myself questions about you. Not the sort of questions the Foundation asks itself, though ! No, more in the sense that I’m wondering what you’re searching for. Why you’re constantly moving from place to place. Why you do what you’re doing. I mean, I don’t pretend I have an answer but asking myself about it is already more than enough.</em></p> <p><em>Yeah, I know, what I say gives more the impression that I’m more interested by the image you give. In fact, it’s why I’m writing you this letter.</em></p> <p><em>I don’t want to just know your image. I want to know you. I didn’t wanted to know someone that much before. I want to help you finding what you’re searching for. I often ask myself if being constantly alone weighs on you and, if it’s the case, I want to fill this gap. I want to see you smile. I want to show you WonderWorld and everything we can do here. There’s so much things I want to do with you and if I told you about every single one of them, there would be no surprises and spoiling them is not what we do on this house !</em></p> <p><em>You deserve only the best. When I have to attend those meetings with the Executive Board, I must stay focused constantly because I spend way more of my time thinking about what surprise I could give you, the one I know will make you brighten like no one else. I think about making toys after you because, deep down, I know they would be the best toys ever. Just that, it allows me to stay awaken.</em></p> <p><em>Thinking about you makes me feel a lot of things I like to feel.</em></p> <p><em>I sent you <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-003-int">a box of chocolates</a> with the letter, I hope you’ll like it. I already said a lot in this letter but I want to say even more things to you in person and I really need to make great efforts because I want to say absolutely everything but I’m sure that if I do, this letter will end up making no sense at all.</em></p> <p><em>You should visit me, one day. I would be so happy to see you. Even if everyone, yourself included, sees you as Nobody, for me, you’re somebody. Someone important. I hope you know that.</em></p> <p><em>I love you.</em></p> <p><em>Isabel.</em></p> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:wondertainment">:scp-wiki:theme:wondertainment</a>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] //Usually, I always start my letters with something like "Dear blahblahblah". It’s always polite and, at this point, it’s a Pavlovian reflex, even when I’m not writing letters to customers.// //But here, that would be ridiculous of me to do so, clearly. After all, how can you do so when you’re writing a letter to… well, to Nobody ?// //Anyway.// //You know, if there’s something I’ll always say to the people around me, it’s that the best thing in life (and I do mean the best), it’s newness. Breaking out of the routine. Facing the unknown and seeing what we can get from it. You might think it’s one of those generic slogans I say to the Executive Board during meetings but it’s not true at all !// //I only told them that one time. I’m not even sure they understood what I meant. But anyway, I’m getting lost in thoughts, I’m not here to talk about work !// //What i’m trying to say is that when I think about new and mysterious things who are out of the routine, these days, it always comes back to you.// //I mean… someone who wears a trench and a fedora (you always made me think of those private detectives in those old movies. Which is weird, because I never liked it that much. Everyone is a bit too grouchy for my liking) who has no identity, travels the world without having to worry about anything. I just love to think about someone who doesn’t have to think about whatever chore we need to concern ourselves about, someone who goes wherever they want, someone who’s just… free.// //Yeah, that’s what you are. Free. I could surely spend my time trying to say it in a more poetic way but I know myself, when I try to say something in a more elaborated way, I always end up being confused and not knowing what I was trying to say at the beginning !// //But, to go back to the subject, having blurry memories about yourself, I know what it is. There’s also a lot of things about my life I can’t remember, too. When I try to remind myself of my past, I [[[miss-heir\|always have]]] [[[adventures-in-capitalism-hub\|different memories]]] [[[when-we-come-home\|each time]]]. It’s really confusing but it doesn’t bother me that much. If there’s something important my father teached me, it’s that when you look too much at the past, it just ends up paralyzing us and leaving us with regrets. The only way to live a good life is to look at the future and to go towards it proudly and without fear ! I like to remind Emma and Jeremy of that, sometimes.// //I just realized I got lost in my own thoughts again. I hope you won’t mind it, I really don’t do it on purpose ! Truth is, it’s the first time I’m writing this sort of letter and… well, it’s complicated, actually ! To be completely honest, I’m spending more time trying to search my words than doing anything else. I had to restart writing this letter at least two times ! (OK, one of those two, I put a hole on my paper by accident)// //Oh, well. My point is that you fascinate me. Since I first came across you, there’s not a day I don’t ask myself questions about you. Not the sort of questions the Foundation asks itself, though ! No, more in the sense that I’m wondering what you’re searching for. Why you’re constantly moving from place to place. Why you do what you’re doing. I mean, I don’t pretend I have an answer but asking myself about it is already more than enough.// //Yeah, I know, what I say gives more the impression that I’m more interested by the image you give. In fact, it’s why I’m writing you this letter.// //I don’t want to just know your image. I want to know you. I didn’t wanted to know someone that much before. I want to help you finding what you’re searching for. I often ask myself if being constantly alone weighs on you and, if it’s the case, I want to fill this gap. I want to see you smile. I want to show you WonderWorld and everything we can do here. There’s so much things I want to do with you and if I told you about every single one of them, there would be no surprises and spoiling them is not what we do on this house !// //You deserve only the best. When I have to attend those meetings with the Executive Board, I must stay focused constantly because I spend way more of my time thinking about what surprise I could give you, the one I know will make you brighten like no one else. I think about making toys after you because, deep down, I know they would be the best toys ever. Just that, it allows me to stay awaken.// //Thinking about you makes me feel a lot of things I like to feel.// //I sent you [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/scp-003-int a box of chocolates] with the letter, I hope you’ll like it. I already said a lot in this letter but I want to say even more things to you in person and I really need to make great efforts because I want to say absolutely everything but I’m sure that if I do, this letter will end up making no sense at all.// //You should visit me, one day. I would be so happy to see you. Even if everyone, yourself included, sees you as Nobody, for me, you’re somebody. Someone important. I hope you know that.// //I love you.// //Isabel.//	2023-10-04T18:02:00	[ "_fr", "dr-wondertainment", "international", "isabel-v", "nobody", "romance", "tale" ]	You and Nobody Else - SCP Foundation	8	[ "miss-heir", "adventures-in-capitalism-hub", "when-we-come-home" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "nobody-hub", "dr-wondertainment-hub", "scp-international" ]	[]	1450316729	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/toi-et-personne-d-autre
tossup-tuesday	<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> <div class="parapost"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>search_the_skies</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:35:18 #72535280</p> <hr/> <p>Alright folks, it's been a long week with no posts and I know we're all getting a little bit antsy. The urge to get out there and find something wondrous strange is overwhelming! But what if we've been overlooking the obvious? What if the next big clue is already in our possession?</p> <p>That's right! We're bringing it back! It's time for…</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Tossup Tuesday!</span></h1> </div> <p>Go through your camera reels again, look closer, dig deeper, see if you've overlooked anything potentially big, and toss it up here for the community to judge!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>search_the_skies</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:37:58 #72535281</p> <hr/> <p>Televegeportation?!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: #7bb3ff"><strong>falcon_crazy</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:40:08 #72535283</p> <hr/> <p>1. No;<br/> 2. TIL pumpkins are vegetables, so that's something at least.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>KnifeInTheDarkPlaces</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:41:12 #72535284</p> <hr/> <p>The flock cometh.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: #ff6767"><strong>reifire_rose</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:43:40 #72535286</p> <hr/> <p>The birds sitteth, who gives a shitteth.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>El_Servitor</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:43:22 #72535285</p> <hr/> <p>Wandermelon.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>KnifeInTheDarkPlaces</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:44:14 #72535288</p> <hr/> <p>You're off your gourd.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: #7bb3ff"><strong>falcon_crazy</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:45:29 #72535289</p> <hr/> <p>TIL melons are gourds, so all told this has already been a success for me!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:48:57 #72535291</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: #ff6767"><strong>reifire_rose</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:50:11 #72535292</p> <hr/> <p>Malicious compliance isn't mysterious.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>search_the_skies</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:50:28 #72535293</p> <hr/> <p>Please tell me one of us has a shot in their reel of this guy photographing a stack of ketchup cups</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>haze991</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:52:41 #72535294</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: #ff6767"><strong>reifire_rose</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:53:02 #72535295</p> <hr/> <p>What the fuck is this?</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>haze991</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:54:19 #72535296</p> <hr/> <p>Sorry, I'll clarify.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply4"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:59:11 #72535299</p> <hr/> <p>So you've got a hole in your pocket, and a Coke addiction?</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply5"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>haze991</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:59:49 #72535300</p> <hr/> <p>AND a very even gait!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>hwaet_hwaet</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:56:23 #72535297</p> <hr/> <p>guy write his name on my table with him own shit</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:57:34 #72535298</p> <hr/> <p>yeah well that's outback for you</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>El_Servitor</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:01:17 #72535301</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>search_the_skies</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:04:21 #72535302</p> <hr/> <p>I hope you bought it, that's cheap for a lime.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:08:26 #72535304</p> <hr/> <p>limes cost like ten cents, gwyneth</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>KnifeInTheDarkPlaces</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:07:14 #72535303</p> <hr/> <p>snow that won't melt</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: #7bb3ff"><strong>falcon_crazy</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:09:17 #72535305</p> <hr/> <p>Obviously just a t-shirt.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>OoooOoooOoooOoooO</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:10:10 #72535306</p> <hr/> <p>mass hanging at the state fair</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>haze991</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:11:29 #72535307</p> <hr/> <p>the dance dance revolution WILL NOT BE TELEVISED</p> <p>but it will be photographed</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>hwaet_hwaet</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:15:50 #72535309</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: #ff6767"><strong>reifire_rose</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:19:09 #72535310</p> <hr/> <p>I wondered where all those crane trucks were headed.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>El_Servitor</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:20:18 #72535311</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>KnifeInTheDarkPlaces</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:22:29 #72535312</p> <hr/> <p>So are you like, meticulously documenting some sort of food misplacement goblin or</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>El_Servitor</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:26:11 #72535316</p> <hr/> <p>apparently</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply4"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>haze991</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:28:39 #72535317</p> <hr/> <p>Finally a brand of horror I can get in on!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply5"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:29:53 #72535318</p> <hr/> <p>yeah pretty freekeh</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>tripteebow</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:41:26 #72535322</p> <hr/> <p>My dad made eggs Benedict! It was amazing!</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>KnifeInTheDarkPlaces</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:43:41 #72535323</p> <hr/> <p>Is your dad a monster?</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>tripteebow</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:46:13 #72535324</p> <hr/> <p>He's a monster for eggs Benedict</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: teal"><strong>tripteebow</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:49:36 #72535325</p> <hr/> <p>Like oh I'M sorry I thought we were just sharing random garbage here</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: yellow"><strong>weirdhand</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 01:17:22 #72535328</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>search_the_skies</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 01:17:22 #72535329</p> <hr/> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-bathrooms-wiki">Wrong wiki</a>.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply1"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>OpenBook</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 03:47:10 #72535338</p> <hr/> <p>I think I might be losing my mind.</p> <p>Last night I dreamed that I woke up, got out of bed, put my clothes on, walked out of my bedroom, and then… nothing. Darkness. I was asleep again. And then I woke up. Got out of bed. Put my clothes on… it happened maybe half a dozen times in a row. I honestly thought, when I got up this morning, that it was going to happen again. That I was still trapped in the dream. That I was never going to be able to get more than a few steps out of my room before everything reset. I feel hot and achey all over, and there's a buzzing in my skull that I can't seem to stop.</p> <p>I checked my phone when I finally got downstairs. Three messages from my boss, the last one telling me I'm fired. For missing work. I've never missed a single day before.</p> <p>Apparently I just missed six.</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:17:31 #72535340</p> <hr/> <p>where's the image</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply2"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:24:16 #72535342</p> <hr/> <p>this is the spooky image thread</p> </div> <div class="parapost reply3"> <p><span style="color: purple"><strong>OpenBook</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:31:43 #72535343</p> <hr/> </div> <div class="parapost reply4"> <p><span style="color: orange"><strong>borga</strong></span> 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:35:56 #72535345</p> <hr/> <p>yeah u do look spooked</p> </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="/tossup-tuesday">Tossup Tuesday</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/tossup-tuesday">https://scpwiki.com/tossup-tuesday</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> Ice.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Cold as Ice<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Robert Anthony Provost<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/29534978@N00/2095528165">flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Spooked.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> TimmyWilliams<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> CleftClips<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/24577554@N04/7046291219">flickr</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Everything else!<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=1728455075" 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</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </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>]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="parapost"]] ##white\|search_the_skies## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:35:18 #72535280 ------ Alright folks, it's been a long week with no posts and I know we're all getting a little bit antsy. The urge to get out there and find something wondrous strange is overwhelming! But what if we've been overlooking the obvious? What if the next big clue is already in our possession? That's right! We're bringing it back! It's time for... [[=]] + Tossup Tuesday! [[/=]] Go through your camera reels again, look closer, dig deeper, see if you've overlooked anything potentially big, and toss it up here for the community to judge! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##white\|search_the_skies## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:37:58 #72535281 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Erindale.jpg]] Televegeportation?! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##7BB3FF\|falcon_crazy## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:40:08 #72535283 ------ 1. No; 2. TIL pumpkins are vegetables, so that's something at least. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##yellow\|KnifeInTheDarkPlaces## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:41:12 #72535284 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Birds.jpg]] The flock cometh. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##FF6767\|reifire_rose## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:43:40 #72535286 ------ The birds sitteth, who gives a shitteth. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##white\|El_Servitor## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:43:22 #72535285 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Melon.jpg]] Wandermelon. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##yellow\|KnifeInTheDarkPlaces## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:44:14 #72535288 ------ You're off your gourd. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##7BB3FF\|falcon_crazy## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:45:29 #72535289 ------ TIL melons are gourds, so all told this has already been a success for me! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:48:57 #72535291 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Stack.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##FF6767\|reifire_rose## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:50:11 #72535292 ------ Malicious compliance isn't mysterious. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##white\|search_the_skies## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:50:28 #72535293 ------ Please tell me one of us has a shot in their reel of this guy photographing a stack of ketchup cups [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##teal\|haze991## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:52:41 #72535294 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Caps1.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##FF6767\|reifire_rose## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:53:02 #72535295 ------ What the fuck is this? [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##teal\|haze991## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:54:19 #72535296 ------ Sorry, I'll clarify. [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Caps2.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply4"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:59:11 #72535299 ------ So you've got a hole in your pocket, and a Coke addiction? [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply5"]] ##teal\|haze991## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:59:49 #72535300 ------ AND a very even gait! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##yellow\|hwaet_hwaet## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:56:23 #72535297 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Sean.jpg]] guy write his name on my table with him own shit [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/14/2023 (Tues) 23:57:34 #72535298 ------ yeah well that's outback for you [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##white\|El_Servitor## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:01:17 #72535301 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Lime.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##white\|search_the_skies## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:04:21 #72535302 ------ I hope you bought it, that's cheap for a lime. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:08:26 #72535304 ------ limes cost like ten cents, gwyneth [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##yellow\|KnifeInTheDarkPlaces## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:07:14 #72535303 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Snow.jpg]] snow that won't melt [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##7BB3FF\|falcon_crazy## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:09:17 #72535305 ------ Obviously just a t-shirt. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##white\|OoooOoooOoooOoooO## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:10:10 #72535306 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Hang.jpg]] mass hanging at the state fair [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##teal\|haze991## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:11:29 #72535307 ------ the dance dance revolution WILL NOT BE TELEVISED but it will be photographed [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##yellow\|hwaet_hwaet## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:15:50 #72535309 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Trump.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##FF6767\|reifire_rose## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:19:09 #72535310 ------ I wondered where all those crane trucks were headed. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##white\|El_Servitor## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:20:18 #72535311 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Sausage.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##yellow\|KnifeInTheDarkPlaces## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:22:29 #72535312 ------ So are you like, meticulously documenting some sort of food misplacement goblin or [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##white\|El_Servitor## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:26:11 #72535316 ------ apparently [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply4"]] ##teal\|haze991## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:28:39 #72535317 ------ Finally a brand of horror I can get in on! [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Freekeh.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply5"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:29:53 #72535318 ------ yeah pretty freekeh [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##teal\|tripteebow## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:41:26 #72535322 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Benny.jpg]] My dad made eggs Benedict! It was amazing! [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##yellow\|KnifeInTheDarkPlaces## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:43:41 #72535323 ------ Is your dad a monster? [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##teal\|tripteebow## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:46:13 #72535324 ------ He's a monster for eggs Benedict [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##teal\|tripteebow## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 00:49:36 #72535325 ------ Like oh I'M sorry I thought we were just sharing random garbage here [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##yellow\|weirdhand## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 01:17:22 #72535328 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Ice.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##white\|search_the_skies## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 01:17:22 #72535329 ------ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-bathrooms-wiki \| Wrong wiki]]]. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply1"]] ##purple\|OpenBook## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 03:47:10 #72535338 ------ I think I might be losing my mind. Last night I dreamed that I woke up, got out of bed, put my clothes on, walked out of my bedroom, and then... nothing. Darkness. I was asleep again. And then I woke up. Got out of bed. Put my clothes on... it happened maybe half a dozen times in a row. I honestly thought, when I got up this morning, that it was going to happen again. That I was still trapped in the dream. That I was never going to be able to get more than a few steps out of my room before everything reset. I feel hot and achey all over, and there's a buzzing in my skull that I can't seem to stop. I checked my phone when I finally got downstairs. Three messages from my boss, the last one telling me I'm fired. For missing work. I've never missed a single day before. Apparently I just missed six. [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:17:31 #72535340 ------ where's the image [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply2"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:24:16 #72535342 ------ this is the spooky image thread [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply3"]] ##purple\|OpenBook## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:31:43 #72535343 ------ [[=image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank/Spooked.jpg]] [[/div]] [[div class="parapost reply4"]] ##orange\|borga## 11/15/2023 (Wed) 04:35:56 #72535345 ------ yeah u do look spooked [[/div]] [[div]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=HarryBlank]] ===== [[<]] > Filename: Ice.jpg > Name: Cold as Ice > Author: Robert Anthony Provost > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/29534978@N00/2095528165 flickr] > Filename: Spooked.jpg > Name: TimmyWilliams > Author: CleftClips > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/24577554@N04/7046291219 flickr] > Filename: Everything else! > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] [[/div]]	2023-11-15T05:29:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "comedy", "correspondence", "mystery", "paracon2023-unofficial", "parawatch", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Tossup Tuesday - SCP Foundation	52	[ "the-bathrooms-wiki", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "parawatch-hub" ]	[]	1451402695	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/tossup-tuesday
total-internal-reflection	<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>Sometimes I wish that I, too, could return to normalcy.</p> <hr/> <p>⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article contains themes of depression, identity crises, and suicide.</p> <hr/> <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;">71.88%<br/> (+23)</td> <td style="text-align: right;">28.12%<br/> (-9)</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></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>You know, I read in books about this kind of thing happening to characters. I always empathized with them, but from afar, y'know? But now that it's happening to me… it feels unreal. I mean, it <em>is</em> unreal. This isn't how the world works. This isn't how my life is supposed to work. I- I- I don't know what to do anymore. It's not like this is a major thing, but it's so… there, y'know. God, I need a minute to breathe here.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> So, uh, I guess this is it, huh? I mean, what else did you come here for? C'mon, girl, you know this wasn't gonna be <em>that</em> easy. I just… I hoped, y'know?</p> <p>I mean, <em>of course</em> you do. You <em>are</em> me. But you also get it, don't you? I don't have any idea about what's happening. Maybe it's meant to be a secret forever. Maybe I'm just not special and this is all fake. But… maybe it's not?</p> <p>God, this is so dumb. I'm talking to a wall, here. Literally no one is going to respond. I mean… I am, but you know- no, <em>I</em> know what <em>I</em> mean. Need to stay grounded in reality, here. You might just be a mirror, but you listen. At least you're someone to talk to. God, what is my head?</p> <p>So, what? Do I just stop this? Leave this place? Abandon course and never return? No, I can't. I may not have started this, but I <em>have</em> to finish it. I have to. I guess I need to wait and find out the truth, huh?<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> So, um, it's here again, huh?</p> <p>What am I doing, talking to myself, alone? I'm just weird like that, I guess. Is this what introspection is supposed to be? I guess thinking wasn't enough for me, huh?</p> <p>Humans dislike change, right? But change can be good. But so can staying where you are…</p> <p>God this would be so much easier if you could talk. I'd have someone with me to talk to at all times. Someone there when you need them. I guess that's kinda why I'm here, huh? I guess talking to myself is the best I can get, though.</p> <p>This just feels like waiting. I'm gonna figure it out eventually, but the question is when? Soon? Later? Never? No, not never. I wish I could get help. But, well, who the hell'd believe me?</p> <p>Why am I even explaining this to you? You literally <em>are</em> me. What <em>don't</em> you know that I <em>do</em>?</p> <p>Well, maybe you know…</p> <p>And you just don't want to believe that this is…</p> <p>Maybe you want to explore why…</p> <p>See if maybe there's a reason…</p> <p>If…<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> It weighs a lot on me, y'know? Feels weird doing anything else, like I'm stuck here until I move on. Life feels… sideways. Like, I'm there, physically, but am I really <em>there</em>? Is this the real me, or are you the real me? I… don't know…</p> <p>Sometimes I wish…</p> <p>Just that… life would be simpler.</p> <p>How long must this go on? Do I just… live like this forever?</p> <p>C'mon now, you're just retreading ground now. You'll figure this out.</p> <p>But will I?</p> <p>I wish I could talk to you. You probably could, if you wanted to, but why would you? It's <em>me</em>.</p> <p>Ok, just breathe, girl, breathe.</p> <p>No, forget that. This has been stressing me out for so long. I… I can't. Tell me why. Please.</p> <p>I don't know, so of course you wouldn't either. Why would you? I just stand here, talking, and that's it. Stop this. Please.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> Y'know, I was messing around online earlier. Chatting with some friends, trying to take my mind off of, well, this. Turns out our chatroom has a function to ignore users, so I tried it on myself. And it brought me crawling back here.</p> <p>"You can't ignore yourself."</p> <p>It's ironic, really. If only I could.</p> <p>Y'know I think that <em>this</em> might be making me feel even worse. It's really heavy on me.</p> <p><span style="color: red">Well, you wouldn't be here if it did, moron.</span></p> <p>Wha- How- Who are you? How did you say that with my mouth? Seriously?</p> <p><span style="color: red">I've always been here, dumbass; I <em>am</em> you!</span></p> <p>Dammit, whoever the hell, stop. Get out of my head.</p> <p><span style="color: red">Hard to do that when your dumbass keeps coming back for me.</span></p> <p>You're- You- Listen, you, me, I'm trying to figure this out, ok? I'm working on it.</p> <p><span style="color: red">Work more.</span></p> <p>I… I'm trying here…</p> <p><span style="color: red">Worthless work.</span></p> <p>Please, stop. You shouldn't do this. Seriously.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> God, why do I keep coming back here?</p> <p><span style="color: red">You should probably go.</span></p> <p>I… I think it's easier to think with you here…</p> <p><span style="color: red">God dammit, you ignorant fuck. Can you not figure</span> it <span style="color: red">out? This isn't fucking advanced calculus!</span> Don't you <span style="color: red">understand what you're doing, just by being</span> here? You son <span style="color: red">of a bitch. No wonder this shit happened to</span> you. You can't even <span style="color: red">realize who I am? It should be obvious. So</span> blatant, a toddler could figure it out before lunch. I <em>AM</em> YOU!</p> <p>No, that… I can't control you. You just happen. See, you're about to talk again, I can feel it.</p> <p>You really are just that dumb, huh?</p> <p>See, why would I say that? You, you've gotta be the person in the mirror, right? Who else? Because if it's not them then that means…</p> <p>Is this all just…<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> I… I can't take it anymore. I don't know what to do anymore. Everywhere I go, windows, puddles, metal, you're everywhere. I can't get away from you. I can't even tell what's real anymore. Is anything real? Am I real? Are you?</p> <p>Just talk to me, tell me the truth, anything. Give me a sign. Stop being stoic behind the glass. Turn around and look. Look me in the eyes.</p> <p>Look at me.</p> <p>Look.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> Please?<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <p>It's done. It's gone. I killed <em>it</em>. That <em>beast</em>. It can rot for the rest of eternity now. I pulled that bitch through the glass and punched her. And then I punched her again. And again. And again. And now? She's dead. I am the real me. She, it, whatever the hell that thing is gone. I can finally be free.</p> <p>No, it's not… How is it alive? I can see all of its blood on the floor, I can see its eye socket empty, I can see fucking bone. How the <em>hell</em> is this devil alive? DIE ALREADY!</p> <p>I keep stomping on its head, but it keeps breathing. HOW! ARE! YOU! ALIVE!? I'll crack your fucking chest open and rip your lungs out with my own hands if I have to! Just please… please… die…</p> <p>I… I can't keep living with knowing that I'm not the real me. I need you to die so I can live. Please, just, leave me alone. Just… die already… please…<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>911, what is the nature of your emergency?</p> </div> <br/> There is a dead body and someone bleeding out at 924 Thoroughbred Lane. Did you get that?<br/> <br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>Yes ma'am. Are you currently safe?</p> </div> <br/> I will be. Goodbye.<br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>Ma'am, plea-</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="/total-internal-reflection">Total Internal Reflection</a>" by Angryman22, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/total-internal-reflection">https://scpwiki.com/total-internal-reflection</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:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-s9-tg-alt= --]]] [[include <a href="/component:ratio-bar">component:ratio-bar</a> base=--]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Sometimes I wish that I, too, could return to normalcy. ---- ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains themes of depression, identity crises, and suicide. ---- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:ratio-bar">:scp-wiki:component:ratio-bar</a> pie=--]] [[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>]] You know, I read in books about this kind of thing happening to characters. I always empathized with them, but from afar, y'know? But now that it's happening to me... it feels unreal. I mean, it //is// unreal. This isn't how the world works. This isn't how my life is supposed to work. I- I- I don't know what to do anymore. It's not like this is a major thing, but it's so... there, y'know. God, I need a minute to breathe here. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ So, uh, I guess this is it, huh? I mean, what else did you come here for? C'mon, girl, you know this wasn't gonna be //that// easy. I just... I hoped, y'know? I mean, //of course// you do. You //are// me. But you also get it, don't you? I don't have any idea about what's happening. Maybe it's meant to be a secret forever. Maybe I'm just not special and this is all fake. But... maybe it's not? God, this is so dumb. I'm talking to a wall, here. Literally no one is going to respond. I mean... I am, but you know- no, //I// know what //I// mean. Need to stay grounded in reality, here. You might just be a mirror, but you listen. At least you're someone to talk to. God, what is my head? So, what? Do I just stop this? Leave this place? Abandon course and never return? No, I can't. I may not have started this, but I //have// to finish it. I have to. I guess I need to wait and find out the truth, huh? @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ So, um, it's here again, huh? What am I doing, talking to myself, alone? I'm just weird like that, I guess. Is this what introspection is supposed to be? I guess thinking wasn't enough for me, huh? Humans dislike change, right? But change can be good. But so can staying where you are... God this would be so much easier if you could talk. I'd have someone with me to talk to at all times. Someone there when you need them. I guess that's kinda why I'm here, huh? I guess talking to myself is the best I can get, though. This just feels like waiting. I'm gonna figure it out eventually, but the question is when? Soon? Later? Never? No, not never. I wish I could get help. But, well, who the hell'd believe me? Why am I even explaining this to you? You literally //are// me. What //don't// you know that I //do//? Well, maybe you know... And you just don't want to believe that this is... Maybe you want to explore why... See if maybe there's a reason... If... @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ It weighs a lot on me, y'know? Feels weird doing anything else, like I'm stuck here until I move on. Life feels... sideways. Like, I'm there, physically, but am I really //there//? Is this the real me, or are you the real me? I... don't know... Sometimes I wish... Just that... life would be simpler. How long must this go on? Do I just... live like this forever? C'mon now, you're just retreading ground now. You'll figure this out. But will I? I wish I could talk to you. You probably could, if you wanted to, but why would you? It's //me//. Ok, just breathe, girl, breathe. No, forget that. This has been stressing me out for so long. I... I can't. Tell me why. Please. I don't know, so of course you wouldn't either. Why would you? I just stand here, talking, and that's it. Stop this. Please. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ Y'know, I was messing around online earlier. Chatting with some friends, trying to take my mind off of, well, this. Turns out our chatroom has a function to ignore users, so I tried it on myself. And it brought me crawling back here. "You can't ignore yourself." It's ironic, really. If only I could. Y'know I think that //this// might be making me feel even worse. It's really heavy on me. ##red\|Well, you wouldn't be here if it did, moron.## Wha- How- Who are you? How did you say that with my mouth? Seriously? ##red\|I've always been here, dumbass; I //am// you!## Dammit, whoever the hell, stop. Get out of my head. ##red\|Hard to do that when your dumbass keeps coming back for me.## You're- You- Listen, you, me, I'm trying to figure this out, ok? I'm working on it. ##red\|Work more.## I... I'm trying here... ##red\|Worthless work.## Please, stop. You shouldn't do this. Seriously. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ God, why do I keep coming back here? ##red\|You should probably go.## I... I think it's easier to think with you here... ##red\|God dammit, you ignorant fuck. Can you not figure## it ##red\| out? This isn't fucking advanced calculus!## Don't you ##red\|understand what you're doing, just by being## here? You son ##red\|of a bitch. No wonder this shit happened to## you. You can't even ##red\|realize who I am? It should be obvious. So## blatant, a toddler could figure it out before lunch. I //AM// YOU! No, that... I can't control you. You just happen. See, you're about to talk again, I can feel it. You really are just that dumb, huh? See, why would I say that? You, you've gotta be the person in the mirror, right? Who else? Because if it's not them then that means... Is this all just... @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ I... I can't take it anymore. I don't know what to do anymore. Everywhere I go, windows, puddles, metal, you're everywhere. I can't get away from you. I can't even tell what's real anymore. Is anything real? Am I real? Are you? Just talk to me, tell me the truth, anything. Give me a sign. Stop being stoic behind the glass. Turn around and look. Look me in the eyes. Look at me. Look. @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ Please? @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ It's done. It's gone. I killed //it//. That //beast//. It can rot for the rest of eternity now. I pulled that bitch through the glass and punched her. And then I punched her again. And again. And again. And now? She's dead. I am the real me. She, it, whatever the hell that thing is gone. I can finally be free. No, it's not... How is it alive? I can see all of its blood on the floor, I can see its eye socket empty, I can see fucking bone. How the //hell// is this devil alive? DIE ALREADY! I keep stomping on its head, but it keeps breathing. HOW! ARE! YOU! ALIVE!? I'll crack your fucking chest open and rip your lungs out with my own hands if I have to! Just please... please... die... I... I can't keep living with knowing that I'm not the real me. I need you to die so I can live. Please, just, leave me alone. Just... die already... please... @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ [[>]] 911, what is the nature of your emergency? [[/>]] There is a dead body and someone bleeding out at 924 Thoroughbred Lane. Did you get that? @@@@ [[>]] Yes ma'am. Are you currently safe? [[/>]] I will be. Goodbye. [[>]] Ma'am, plea- [[/>]] [[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>]]	2023-09-20T18:00:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "creepypasta", "tale" ]	Total Internal Reflection - SCP Foundation	14	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "creepy-pasta" ]	[]	1450067220	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/total-internal-reflection
trains-across-the-sea	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>not much<br/> comes down the<br/> line, these days.</p> <p>i used to say<br/> to the others<br/> that this job<br/> would be real easy<br/> if nothing ever<br/> came down,<br/> but now i say<br/> nothing because<br/> nobody is around<br/> to hear it.</p> <p>when people used<br/> to come through here,<br/> they would tell me that<br/> god<br/> was a hulking mass<br/> of neon and concrete<br/> and tears, and that he<br/> would come for us all<br/> one day.</p> <p>sometimes,<br/> i have dreams<br/> where a weeping<br/> woman i'm sure i've<br/> seen somewhere<br/> before says that<br/> she looked at the<br/> most beautiful<br/> sunrise and felt<br/> nothing.</p> <p>i wonder if<br/> there's a place<br/> somewhere<br/> where the trains<br/> still come through<br/> every day filled<br/> with new people<br/> and their things.</p> <p>sometimes,<br/> i stay up so long<br/> that i get to see<br/> the sunrise, and i<br/> stare at it until<br/> it ends, trying to<br/> feel something.</p> <p>i like to imagine<br/> that some of the<br/> others are now<br/> riding the trains<br/> somewhere across<br/> the sea to<br/> places full of<br/> dewy spring mornings<br/> and hills in forests<br/> where you can<br/> see all the stars<br/> and feel like<br/> you have a chance.</p> <p>i think sometimes<br/> that i wouldn't<br/> care if i was<br/> in a place where<br/> trains came through<br/> every day, because<br/> people leave and<br/> no train can<br/> bring them back.</p> <p>i want to<br/> believe that<br/> god<br/> lives in the<br/> breeze that flows<br/> through the grass<br/> on hot summer days<br/> and the ripples<br/> that stones make<br/> on still water.</p> <p>i hear something approaching.</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="/trains-across-the-sea">trains across the sea</a>" by UncannyClown276, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/trains-across-the-sea">https://scpwiki.com/trains-across-the-sea</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]] [[/>]] not much comes down the line, these days. i used to say to the others that this job would be real easy if nothing ever came down, but now i say nothing because nobody is around to hear it. when people used to come through here, they would tell me that god was a hulking mass of neon and concrete and tears, and that he would come for us all one day. sometimes, i have dreams where a weeping woman i'm sure i've seen somewhere before says that she looked at the most beautiful sunrise and felt nothing. i wonder if there's a place somewhere where the trains still come through every day filled with new people and their things. sometimes, i stay up so long that i get to see the sunrise, and i stare at it until it ends, trying to feel something. i like to imagine that some of the others are now riding the trains somewhere across the sea to places full of dewy spring mornings and hills in forests where you can see all the stars and feel like you have a chance. i think sometimes that i wouldn't care if i was in a place where trains came through every day, because people leave and no train can bring them back. i want to believe that god lives in the breeze that flows through the grass on hot summer days and the ripples that stones make on still water. i hear something approaching. [[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>]]	2023-01-10T23:31:00	[ "_licensebox", "poetry", "tale" ]	trains across the sea - SCP Foundation	20	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023" ]	[]	1445444979	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/trains-across-the-sea
transposthumousism	<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"> 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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="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Transposthumousism</span></h1> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <img alt="3Portsterisk.png" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png"/><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <h1 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #990011">2008</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>The Red Lord's Arms: Three Portlands</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p><em>I don't hate this man.</em></p> <p>Karen Elstrom, a woman of exceptional mental control, consciously avoided ending that thought with the word 'yet'. <em>No point being defeatist on a first date.</em></p> <p>The man she didn't hate was a picture of distinction. Neat blonde moustache, tailored midnight blue suit, eggplant cravat — even the words were a delight to combine — and an honest-to-god carnation in his lapel. As though he could read her mind and sense the unaccustomed positivity, he flashed a dazzling white smile. Not a grin; he would never have gotten her in the door were he the grinning sort. "I knew I'd seen you before," he drawled in that way only the truly wealthy could afford. "The Cameron Constantine exhibition at the Museum of Establishment Anart. February, wasn't it?" He pronounced the first 'r' in February. Karen's heart swelled, and for a moment she wondered if the Red Lord's Arms had chosen to again violate local ordinances by playing aphrodisiac madrigals… no, they were instead piping in Ravel's <em>Bolero,</em> which was racy but not anomalously so. The UIU had threatened to shut down the expatriate Alagaddan bistro if it hosted another spontaneous orgy, and the playing of <em>Catallus 16 for Concupiscent Voice Choir</em> had been banned across Three Portlands. It was definitely the pronunciation arousing her.</p> <p>He was still talking. "What was it called? 'Perfection in 4D', I think. Yes."</p> <p>She leaned in, left hand sliding smoothly beneath her right elbow as she cupped her face and favoured him with her best alluring smile. Not for nothing had she once practiced seductive glances over the top of her eyeglasses in the mirror. "I don't see much anart in my line. Security concerns. Unless you think I moonlight as a model?"</p> <p>His laugh was rich as stained mahogany. "It's a crime against art and artists if you don't. But no, that isn't what I mean. Constantine's exhibit was a physical, living timelapse of ideal forms in nude, shifting effortlessly from pose to perfect pose, each figure reflecting the viewer's personal standard for beauty and grace. In appearance and demeanour, you could have been mine."</p> <p>She could think of three ways to respond to this. If her goal for the evening was to secure a genuine emotional connection with another human being, she could leave immediately and find someone capable of forming such a thing. If she wanted to gain the upper hand in this interaction, prolong the delightful dance, she could exploit his choice of words to assert that she belonged only to herself. If after the private matinee screening of Zombie Tarkovsky's unreleased new Marvel movie and the five hundred dollar meal of Nevermeant blood oyster and Anantasheshan caviar he had paid for with cash, however, she felt he had paid the entrance fee… "As a means of separating me from my dress, that's quite novel." She quirked an eyebrow.</p> <p>He chuckled sedately as his head exploded.</p> <p>Under the table, Karen blinked. There was something hot and painful in her eyes, and she wiped it off with the backside of the expensive table cloth. Training and instinct had put her on the floor in one hot second, and only now was she operating off autopilot. She glanced down, eyes still burning from the salt of her date's blood, and confirmed that her dress was unstained. Then she gently, oh so gently, lifted the edge of the cloth to take in the scene.</p> <p>The Red Lord's Arms was a picture of absolute chaos, on a typical night. Being one of the most desirable high end restaurants in an anomalous free port didn't mean black tie and cocktail dress clientele. There were occultists — several of these were chanting, and one was trying to pry open a salt shaker for the purpose of pouring a protective circle; there were madmen — most of these were screaming or laughing as tables upended and the air was filled with a heavy, strangely hollow clanking sound; there were mad scientists, and one of them, a long-haired lunatic in a white smock, was hefting a gun which looked like it had been designed for anti-tank use in some far flung grimdark future. If that had been the weapon which killed her date…</p> <p><em>My date is dead.</em></p> <p>…then a lot more than the man's head would have atomized. Probably only the table would have survived; they built things to last against centuries of serious revelry in the Sanguine Quarter of Alagadda. No, she realized, the would-be supervillain wasn't pointing the gun at her table. He was pointing it at the chunky, transparent walking dumpster which was moving through the dining room like a linebacker, scattering patrons and furniture and exotic food in every direction. The gun made a surprisingly pathetic <em>pop</em> when it fired, though the recoil sent the man flying into a wine cabinet filled with vintages of suspect provenance and the projectile, a ball of glowing red plasma, sailed neatly through the robot ghost like it wasn't really there and essentially deleted the restaurant's north wall. The scene was now open to the street, and the attacker took this opportunity to exit stage right. It galloped onto the sidewalk, took a flying leap notable for its unlikely grace, struck an electrical pole, shimmered and disappeared with a much more satisfying crash of thunder.</p> <p>It occurred to Karen that there was absolutely no way she could afford to pay for the meal herself.</p> <p>Quinn pulled her badge out of her UIU windbreaker and presented it to the agent in charge, a stocky astral projector named Driscoll she knew only passingly. "<a href="/quinn-law-hub">Quinn Law</a>."</p> <p>To his credit, the man accepted this as her name and walked her in. "Thanks for the quick assist. Got a real nasty one here."</p> <p>She nodded as they walked through the ruins of the restaurant. Quinn was surprised to feel a light breeze, and see sunlight. She was even more surprised when they entered the dining room, and she could see why. No wonder the streets surrounding the Red Lord's Arms had all been cordoned off. "Was already in the neighbourhod, uh…" She wasn't sure how to finish that thought without opening herself up to unwanted questions, not that Driscoll was likely to ask them right now, so she let it die on the ellipsis and changed tack. "How nasty we talking? Enough to need a necromancer, obviously, but why? I hear people die in this joint all the time."</p> <p>The agent snorted in good humour. "Yeah, but it's supposed to be the food that kills you. This fella took an expanding round in the head, and if it's all the same to you I'd like to ask him why."</p> <p>The fella in question was still sitting at his table, <em>sans</em> everything above the neckerchief. There was blood everywhere, and brain matter, and bits of skull, and what looked like very expensive bone china. Alagaddan bone china, she'd read somewhere, was legally required to be glazed three times over to prevent the material seeping out into the food. The bone was, to put it mildly, unethically sourced.</p> <p>"Friend of yours?" she asked, just to lighten the mood a bit.</p> <p>"Could say that," Driscoll sighed. "GOC bigwig from out of town. We were supposed to be protecting him."</p> <p>"Oh." That explained all the security outside. If the UIU had screwed up large, they wouldn't want anyone seeing it. UIUseless was the dominant narrative outside of Three Portlands, but here they were the law, and most people were happy to consider them good at what they did. "Can I ask why it didn't work out?"</p> <p>Driscoll grunted. "A giant see-through box monster came out of nowhere and popped his top, then vanished. Seems like a tech thing, but you know, we're hurting for tech people right now."</p> <p>Quinn did know this. There was a notable shortage of programmers throughout Three Portlands, had been for months. Word on the street was the skippers were hiring for some top-secret project, scooping up the best and leaving the worst to work electronic forensics for the UIU. One more reason to hate them. "Nobody saw that coming? And it got through our security screen? How does a thing like that happen?"</p> <p>"OPR thinks there's a leak."</p> <p>Quinn's stomach sank. If the Office of Professional Responsibility was involved, this case was going to be a headache. Better to get her part over and done with, and get out. She'd been looking forward to this evening all week, and was itching all over to… she cleared her throat. "Okay. You want me to call the guy up?"</p> <p>"In a minute. How are you with interrogation? We've got a witness, but she's… let's call her uncooperative." He gestured at the bar across the splintered battlefield. "Maybe you'll get lucky."</p> <p><em>In my dreams,</em> she thought. <em>Wow.</em> Only a corpse with an exploded head could have distracted her from the woman at the bar. She had long legs and long honey-blonde hair, ruby lips and a profile that didn't take no for an answer when it sought out the manager to make a complaint. She was wearing an electric blue dress and a look of utter contempt for everything around her, sitting just <em>so</em> as though someone was painting her portrait. Not for the first time in the past month, Quinn wondered if the universe was trying to send her a message.</p> <p>She nodded Driscoll, and headed over to the bar. "Ma'am? I'd like to… ask you a few questions."</p> <p>She'd hesitated because the woman had turned to glare at her, and her throat had dried up all at once. The goddess of angry librarians had bright blue eyes, and they flashed with righteous indignation. Her neck tilted back, emphasizing the height difference, and when she spoke the air between them all but frosted. "I already told <em>him,</em>" and she pointed accusatorily with the air of a jilted supermodel, "that I won't give a statement without my attorney present."</p> <p>Quinn shrugged. There was only one way to play this game. "Okay. I'll ask your client, then, when I summon him. Hope your agency retains one of the really expensive lawyers."</p> <p>The woman's nostrils flared magnificently, and Quinn realized she had made a critical error. "Agency. <em>Agency.</em> Please explain what you meant by that."</p> <p>"Uh…" That piercing gaze really was something. "I'm sorry, I must have… okay. What was your relationship to the deceased?"</p> <p>"Meaning am I his professional <em>escort?</em>" The woman stepped primly off her stool, heels clacking on the hundred century oak floorboards. "I'll have you know I represent the Office of the Undersecretary General of the Global Occult Coalition, and what Mr. Vollan and I do of an evening is no concern of the UIU."</p> <p>Quinn rallied, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "It is when someone blows his head off in our burg, miss…?"</p> <p>"de Leoncourt," the woman snapped, looking every inch of it. "Tonya de Leoncourt. I'm in your system. You have no reason to detain me."</p> <p>"If you're sick of being detained, you could try just answering the questions so we can get on with our work. Did you see the killer?"</p> <p>"Yes. It was some sort of eldritch homunculus, blocky and mechanical-looking. I didn't see the weapon it used, but an entire restaurant of people saw what it looked like. It demanifested into the power lines. Your friend over there tells me no one's ever seen anything like it. I certainly haven't."</p> <p>She said this as though she <em>had</em> seen quite a lot, and therefore the lack of recognition was meaningful. Quinn filed this away for later. "What was… Mr. Vollan, did you say? What was he doing in Three Ports?"</p> <p>Tonya snorted. "They really don't tell you people anything, do they? He was attending to business. Private business."</p> <p>Something in the way the woman's eyes narrowed… "You don't know, huh? It's okay to admit it."</p> <p>Tonya looked away. Quinn marvelled at the sharpness of her chin. "It would have been rude to pry. He's attached to the Silicon Nornir, and you know how secretive they are."</p> <p>"Right," Quinn suddenly found herself grinning. She couldn't quite see her way to imagining this woman backing down from a group of Scandinavian programmers. "And of course you aren't the rude sort. Do you know why someone might have wanted to do him harm?"</p> <p>Tonya idly flipped a lock of hair that hadn't done anything in particular to deserve it, and angled her head just <em>so.</em> "He's highly-placed in PSYCHE. He does diplomatic work. Any number of groups might have wanted him dead."</p> <p>"Was this your first date?"</p> <p>That blue fire glare swung her way again. "Why is that any business of yours?"</p> <p>"Just wondering whether you know him well enough to tell me anything useful, or we're just bantering as a blood sport for the joy of it."</p> <p>The red lips twitched, just once. The woman didn't answer.</p> <p>Without knowing why she did it, Quinn asked: "Would you like to witness the summoning? It, uh… might be easier if there's someone around he knows. Might be more willing to talk to you than me."</p> <p>Tonya shrugged, the expensive dress rippling expensively. "Whatever. Just don't take your time, because you're taking mine too."</p> <p>They walked back to the table, Quinn's itchy sensation worsening by the second. The other agent offered her a look of knowing, if misplaced, sympathy. "Ready?"</p> <p>"Ready enough." Quinn examined the wreckage. "Plenty of reagents, ah, <em>locally sourced</em> as it were. Should be able to work the circle up pretty quick." She gloved up, then bundled everything in the tablecloth and deposited it beside the table. "Won't take but a jiffy."</p> <p>"Are you trying to talk us to death?" Tonya asked.</p> <p>Quinn suppressed the urge to respond as she covered the table with a fresh sheet and set to the task at hand. A few minutes later, the gory work was complete. She spoke the words and performed the gestures which would usher the dead man back across the border between this world and whichever one of the next his spirit had chosen, or been forced into, and the visceral sigil shone electric blue and roiled like a living thing. Droplets of blood extracted themselves from the red fabric and hovered in mid-air, the organs pulsed and the bone fragments ground themselves to dust as the light in the room dimmed down in occult disregard of the setting sun outside. A silhouette of white appeared atop the table, so bright they couldn't look directly at it, and it immediately began waving its arms in blind panic. Quinn finished her chant, and the light died down abruptly, and they all got a good look at what she'd brought back.</p> <p>The immaculately-dressed ghost was missing its head.</p> <p>"Okay." Driscoll scratched his jaw. "I don't… that's not a whole lot more useful than what we had already, to be honest."</p> <p>The headless ghost flailed wildly, stepped on its own entrails, slipped, and fell off the table.</p> <p>"I take it this wasn't the result you were aiming for," Tonya remarked mildly.</p> <p>"I don't get it." Quinn shook her head as the apparition staggered back to its feet. "This isn't… anything. This isn't how it <em>works.</em> At all. Nobody's self-image lacks a head."</p> <p>"Maybe he didn't really want to come back," Driscoll suggested.</p> <p>"Didn't have his head in the game, you mean?" Quinn was startled to hear the words, and glanced appreciatively at Tonya. The other woman didn't appear to notice. "Or maybe she's not very good at this."</p> <p>Quinn was torn between wanting to spar with the elegant snotbag and needing to know what had gone so terribly wrong with her summoning spell. The ghost grasped at the stump of its neck, then tried to feel for its missing face, then paused and reached out for its surroundings like a man searching for a light switch in the dark. Tonya sighed. "This is grotesque. Give the man back his dignity, would you?"</p> <p>At the sound of her voice, the ghost suddenly lunched in her direction. The woman neatly sidestepped, and one of the only tables in the bistro remaining upright was upset by the resultant crash.</p> <p>"Maybe he knows sign language," Driscoll suggested gamely. He pulled Quinn aside. "Seriously though, this is obviously a bust. We're going to have a hard time detaining Lady de Whatever, but I don't like cutting her loose with a killer at large, and I <em>really</em> don't like the idea of keeping her in custody if someone in the bureau is in on whatever happened. I'd like you to dismiss the stiff, then take the witness someplace secure."</p> <p>Quinn frowned. "Like, a safehouse you mean?"</p> <p>He shook his head. "No. Let's not tap any bureau resources until we know our shit is squared. You said you were already in the neighbourhood when the call came, didn't you?"</p> <p>She gulped, and hoped it wasn't audible. "Yeah, but… I mean…" She sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can take her back to my… I can take her <em>someplace.</em> You want us to sit tight there, or…?"</p> <p>"If you think of any avenues, or the witness gives you a lead, call it in before heading back out. Her safety is your priority, but we do want to make progress on this thing but fast. It's gonna be an evolving situation and the GOC is going to be a right pain in our asses the whole time, no doubt."</p> <p>"They've already started." Quinn watched the imperious Tonya striking a pose by the summoning table for no apparent reason, one leg bent like a freeze-framed ballerina.</p> <p>Driscoll clapped her on the shoulder. "Your government thanks you."</p> <p>Karen watched with increasing impatience as the flustered necromancer attempted to release the spirit of Rikard Vollan. They were both frantically waving their arms at each other, Quinn Law — which couldn't be her real name, but Karen could hardly fault her for that given the circumstances — switching fluently between a host of occult dead languages to absolutely no avail.</p> <p>"I believe I would like to end this date," Karen announced. "I have decided not to invite him home."</p> <p>The necromancer grimaced at her. "I can't grok his deal. I swear I know what I'm doing, he shouldn't still be hanging around."</p> <p>"He ought to have a head, too. I take it this is your first day on the job?"</p> <p>The grimace evolved into a glower. "You want to talk about being <em>on the job</em>, dressed like you are?"</p> <p>Karen suppressed a genuine smile as Driscoll tapped Quinn on the shoulder. "Hey, dial it down. The whole point here is to <em>not</em> make a scene. Just get her out of here, and we'll handle the ghost. Alright? Alright."</p> <p>This obviously didn't sit well with the necromancer, who struck Karen as the kind of woman who prided herself on the quality of her work. This was relatable. "Fine. Okay. Well, once I've got her safe and sound, I can swing back and—"</p> <p>"Nah. Don't worry about it. This town is lousy with occultists, we've even got a few detained outside as witnesses. But the crowd's getting thick out there, so…"</p> <p>Quinn finally surrendered to the facts, and headed for the door. "Come on, Tonya. It's a short walk, even in heels."</p> <p>"I've run marathons in heels." Karen jabbed Driscoll in the chest with one long finger. "Purse."</p> <p>He shook his head, wincing as though expecting a sudden slap. "Sorry, ma'am. Evidence."</p> <p>Karen stretched to her full height, which put their eyes about even, and lowered her voice half an octave. "How many dead GOC representatives would you like on your record today, agent?"</p> <p>He blinked. "I would've preferred zero, but failing that—"</p> <p>"One. Right. Well there's pepper spray in my purse, and if you'd be so <em>generous</em> as to let me have it, I'll see what I can do on that score."</p> <p>He chewed on that for a moment, then shook his head. "No can do, ma'am. Regs are regs."</p> <p>"Oh, for crying out loud." Quinn reached into her windbreaker and pulled out a small black pistol with a bright yellow barrel, which she passed to Karen who accepted it without comment. "A consolation gift for your blown date."</p> <p>Karen angled the bottom of her jawline at Driscoll as a means of taking her leave, then took one final look at her date's corpse. She'd rather liked the cravat, pretentious though it was…</p> <p>As she turned to follow Quinn, she heard the other agent utter a frustrated exclamation. Both women turned around.</p> <p>The ghost was following Karen.</p> <p>"No." Quinn waved her arms like she was shooing a cat. "<em>No.</em> Piss off. Away with ye. <em>Abito. Éfyge. Dh' fhalbh.</em>" The ghost regarded her with expressionless disinterest, not that it had a lot of options in that regard. Karen took a step backward in Quinn's direction, and the spectre clumsily mimicked the motion.</p> <p>"Fuck," she muttered.</p> <p>"Agreed." Quinn glanced around the restaurant. "There a back alley exit to this place? Gotta be, right?"</p> <p>Driscoll nodded. "Though the kitchen."</p> <p>"Right. The flat's on the alley network, we can cut through there. Obviously don't wanna trail a headless ghost through Three Ports in rush hour traffic, we won't make it ten feet before someone wants their picture taken with him. Call in a cordon around 51 Darcelle? Use the road work cover, just needs to hold for half an hour 'til we're in the front door."</p> <p>He nodded again.</p> <p>Quinn turned to face Karen. "One foot in front of the other, and try not to look behind you."</p> <p>"Mm. 'Like one that on a lonesome road doth walk in fear and dread'," Karen agreed.</p> <p>The necromancer blinked. "'Because she knows a frightful fiend doth close behind her tread'. Coleridge or <em>Frankenstein?</em>"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>"Huh." Again the other woman wasted a moment favouring her with an appraising look, then headed for the back of the restaurant. Karen kept pace, the ghost trailing in her train.</p> <p>"So, what do you do at the GOC?" Quinn asked conversationally as they exited into a long, dingy corridor between brick structures. "Vollan seems like a big deal. You work with him?" Karen noted she was using this casual banter to soften the sight of drawing her service weapon, pointing it at the filthy alley floor.</p> <p>Karen flexed her fingers over the taser's rubber grip, and shook her head. "That's my business. Were you going to shoot me if you didn't like the answer?"</p> <p>"You're certainly very shootable. It's entirely possible that whoever killed Vollan was aiming at you."</p> <p>This time Karen did smile. "Thank you. I do try."</p> <p>One red eyebrow raised. "You put a lot into this performance, don't you? Some of it's got to be automated, the hellion routine is way too smooth to be completely conscious. You'd have trouble remembering to breathe."</p> <p>"Think of it as weight training." Karen pursed her lips.</p> <p>From time to time the necromancer stopped walking to peer around a corner, or listen to the wind in the eaves, and sometimes when she turned back to glance at Karen she was even smiling a little. Sensing she'd lost the initiative, slipping from intimidating to entertainingly prickly, Karen dedicated a small corner of her mind to thinking up something really vicious to say about Quinn's ripped jeans or the occult tattoos on the backs of her hands.</p> <p>They walked in silence for a while, so silent that Karen fancied she could hear the ghost gesticulating frantically behind her…</p> <p>"Why is he still solid?" she asked suddenly.</p> <p>Quinn glanced back at Vollan. "Probably he's got some experience with astral projection. He should be able to go intangible if he wants to. Guess he lacks the presence of mind to figure that out right now." She smirked guiltily, and opened her mouth to follow up and likely worsen this statement.</p> <p>Karen interrupted her. "He lost his presence of mind honestly."</p> <p>This time the other woman actually flushed with pleasure. <em>Oh dear.</em> Karen pondered the awkwardness of her situation. The GOC would confirm her cover story as a diplomatic favour; high-clearance Foundation personnel weren't meant to visit Free Ports without an escort, and occluding her identity had been the only way she could get permission for this date. She'd met Vollan at a summit late last year, traded pleasantries and phone numbers as the chattering set did, and had been surprised to receive his offer of dinner and a movie <em>gratis</em>. With plenty of personal time saved up and synergistic weaknesses for fine dining and high art, she'd accepted. As always whenever she indulged in personal gratification, it had backfired spectacularly.</p> <p>An empty street became visible up ahead. There was a man with long, droopy rabbit ears slumped against the lefthand wall, asleep. He was clutching a sign that read JUST NEED THREE MORE NAMES TO GET HOME. BLESS. Quinn palmed a notepad and took a quick note before moving on.</p> <p>"Where are you taking me?"</p> <p>The agent hesitated before answering. "To meet a friend of mine, I guess."</p> <p>Quinn's 'friend' was socked away in a crumbling but still respectable brownstone on Darcelle Street. The landlord had owed her a favour for the thing with the killer contracts a few months back, and she'd been able to secure a very reasonable rate for a three room flat on the fifth floor.</p> <p>The street was empty when they emerged from the alley, UIU auto-rickshaws blocking both ends while a few agents in construction wear milled about and tried to look a different variety of blue collar. Nobody saw them lead their spectral companion in the front door. Quinn ushered Tonya through first, then waved off the nearest agent before entering herself.</p> <p>"This is where you live?" the other woman sniffed with obvious disdain. Quinn already knew enough to suspect at least some of the disdain was affected, probably the obvious part.</p> <p>"No." Quinn punched the elevator's call button. "But I've been spending a lot of time here, uh… it's secure." She willed her face not to turn red.</p> <p>"No doubt. What self-respecting assassin would catch someone dead in a place like this?" Tonya transitioned from one obnoxious pose to another. Quinn almost expected to see a camera flash.</p> <p>The elevator arrived. The ghost didn't follow them in until the doors closed, at which point it walked straight through them. Quinn sighed. "Looks like he's figuring it out."</p> <p>"Good," Tonya nodded. "I'm glad the date hasn't been a total wash for him, like it has for me."</p> <p>On the fifth floor, Quinn fumbled awkwardly with her keychain. "Look. If you could maybe not be a total bitch the whole time you're here, I'd appreciate it. This friend of mine—"</p> <p>"—is a euphemism," Tonya agreed with a nod. "For boyfriend. No? Girlfriend, then."</p> <p>Quinn felt her own expression shifting rapidly. "No! No! She's new in… well, she's just <em>new,</em> okay, and we're trying things… out… we haven't… while we're getting used to… it's an open…" She nearly passed out from the blood flow to her cheeks. "Okay, fuck off. It's none of your business. Just don't make her angry, she's sort of a serial killer."</p> <p>She had the satisfaction of seeing genuine surprise on the other woman's face as they reached the door. "Your idea of taking me to safety is delivering me to a serial killer?"</p> <p>Quinn unlocked the door, feeling emboldened by Tonya's discomfort. "Just don't mess with her and you'll be fine. She's kind of hardcore."</p> <p>A beautiful blonde woman strolled out of the bedroom as they walked into the apartment, wearing only a faded old UIU t-shirt just long enough to preserve her modesty. She stretched, yawned messily, and said "Hey doll. You get the oil?"</p> <p>Quinn refused to look Tonya in the eye. "Uh. No. Sorry Twirly. Work. Uh. Got in the way." She gestured at Tonya. "Picked this thing up instead."</p> <p>"Oh!" The green-eyed monster looked the new arrival up and down speculatively. "I thought you told me they didn't have chorus girls anymore."</p> <p>Now it was safe to glance up at the other woman, who was of course quietly fuming with a chance of no longer being quiet. "This is actually a very important secret government official, believe it or not. You can see it in the cheekbones if you look real close. Her name is Tonya." Quinn gestured back and forth between them. "Tonya de Leoncourt, meet <a href="/scp-7433">Eva McDoyle</a>."</p> <p>Eva waved. "Hello. I'm her houseghost."</p> <p>Quinn snorted. "She's not actually a ghost. More like a lege—"</p> <p>"Don't care." Tonya walked around the apartment, looking for some form of furniture meeting with her approval and apparently not finding any. "Very very much do not care at all." She cocked her head to one side. "Thoughtform, probably? Concretized? You were going to say 'legend'. Must be a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spellbound-and-hellbound">story there</a>; no, shush." She held up one finger to silence them both. "I didn't say I wanted to hear it. I said the opposite, in point of fact, and I know my diction is clear."</p> <p>"She's nice," Eva remarked cheerfully, reaching down to scratch her ankle. She was wearing a shiny piece of translucent jewellery down there. "Who's your other friend?"</p> <p>"Oh." Quinn glanced back at the headless ghost, now gliding past her to follow Tonya. "Yeah. This, uh, this is the case, I guess. He's…" She waved vaguely. "It is what it is."</p> <p>Eva cocked her head to one side. "Did you raise him?"</p> <p>"Yeah." Quinn felt sheepish.</p> <p>"And you can't get rid of him?" Eva cackled with delight. "Turning into a habit, eh?"</p> <p>Quinn wanted to say something nice like <em>what makes you think I'd want to get rid of you?</em> but felt intensely awkward about it with the diva swanning around the room, staring daggers at every stain, streak of dust or item out of place. So she shrugged, smiled in what she hoped was an affectionate way, and nodded.</p> <p>"Does he talk?"</p> <p>"Does he talk? He's not a <em>parrot.</em>" Having finished her patrol and found nothing to her liking, Tonya walked back between the two of them. The ghost followed like a lost puppy. "And of course he doesn't talk. He hasn't got a <em>mouth.</em>"</p> <p>"I couldn't use mine when we first met," Eva reminded Quinn. "We still found a way."</p> <p>Quinn felt her eyes widen, and nodded. "You think…?"</p> <p>"Can't hurt to try." Eva walked across the living room to the attached kitchenette, and picked up a small portable radio Quinn had bought her. "Let's see." She turned it on, and rolled through the FM dial. Though her mouth was closed, her voice came out of the speaker when she next spoke: "Calling all cars, calling all cars!" Tonya didn't look fazed, and not for the first time Quinn wondered what her line of work really was. "Anybody in here?" Eva's voice crackled along the frequency spectrum, to no avail.</p> <p>The moment she switched to AM, however, she got results.</p> <p>"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," a baritone male voice screamed on the radio. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"</p> <p>The headless ghost screamed for what felt like an hour but was probably less than a minute. Eva turned the volume down. It waved its arms, and it screamed. It ran circles around Karen, and it screamed.</p> <p>"He's not taking this well," Eva said with her mouth. On the radio she said "Do you know any consonants?"</p> <p>The screaming stopped, and Karen finally recognized Vollan's voice. He hadn't been screaming during their date; they hadn't gotten that far, unfortunately. "What's happening? Why can't I see anything? Where am I?"</p> <p>"You're in a safehouse with a UIU agent." Eva glanced at Quinn, who shrugged. Karen read it crystal clear: <em>Really?</em> and <em>Come on, it's close enough.</em> "You're… well, you're dead."</p> <p>The ghost cleared its throat, somehow, and began to scream again.</p> <p>"Hey! Asshole! Hey dead asshole!" Quinn snapped her fingers in the air where its nose should have been. "You can hear me, right? I know you can hear me, you heard Tonya back at the bistro. We're going to figure out who did this to you, but you have to get your shit together!"</p> <p>"GET MY SHIT TOGETHER?!" The ghost staggered towards Quinn. "MY HEAD IS GONE, AND IT'S YOUR FUCKING FAULT! UIUSELESS GOT MY SHIT <span style="text-decoration: underline;">BLOWN</span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;">OFF</span>!" If the missing head hadn't done it, this shift in demeanour would definitely have dampened Karen's earlier ardour. She despised linguistic slovenliness.</p> <p>"Well <em>sorry,</em> guy, but I wasn't there!" Now Quinn's arms were in the air too, and they were waving at each other like a Marx Brothers routine. "Maybe we can figure out where the pieces landed! The ghost pieces. Of your ghost head. I know a few mediums we could check out; don't normally need to, but this isn't a normal case and I'm… kinda running out of ideas." She deflated over the course of this speech, arms falling limp at her side. Judging from the way her face twitched, admitting this felt not unlike surrender.</p> <p>Eva placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. Karen noted the affection, superfluous though the information was. "You're not in danger, are you?" the living legend asked.</p> <p>Quinn shook her head. "No, but this one might be." She inclined her head in Karen's direction. "How about you stay here with her, while I check some leads?"</p> <p>"You're meant to be keeping me safe," Karen snapped. "I don't mean to tell you your business, but my late date is right — someone needs to, given the recent track record. And the live target seems like it ought to take priority over the dead one."</p> <p>The ghost gave her the middle finger, and Karen knew the romance was truly dead. It didn't matter. She might be pretending to be a GOC notable, but the moment the night had turned anomalous she'd gone back on the clock for the Foundation. She needed to get to the bottom of this as much as the UIU agent did.</p> <p>Quinn exhaled in frustration. "Fine, the three of us will go. Two moms and their ghost baby. You happy now?"</p> <p>"No. I'm not happy about any of this. I want to get out of your ridiculous city. So let's move on."</p> <p>"Can I interject?" It was Vollan again, from the radio. He sounded more subdued.</p> <p>Quinn shrugged. "As long as it's not more screaming."</p> <p>"I have a preference for mediums. Are you familiar with Frau der Streich?"</p> <p>Quinn raised both eyebrows. "Yessssss, but why her specifically? You do know that—"</p> <p>"Yes." The voice was clipped, straining for control. "But this is a search. She's good at searching."</p> <p>"Alright." Quinn shrugged. "That's true enough. I'll get the rickshaw."</p> <p>Eva walked back into the bedroom, returning with a pair of old jeans that didn't fit her. They were too tight, and she squirmed into them over the course of about a minute. Quinn stared the entire time, finally working up the focus to ask: "What are you doing?"</p> <p>"Coming with." Eva tucked the UIU shirt into the jeans and went back to the bedroom again, presumably for some socks. "Last time you had an adventure, I was really lucky to be there at the end."</p> <p>Karen didn't know precisely what the reference was, but she could make an educated guess by the way Quinn's colour rose.</p> <p>Frau der Streich was a charlatan.</p> <p>Charlatanism was relative in Three Portlands, however. der Streich made a living pretending to be a psychic in a city where you couldn't throw a stone without almost hitting a real one (hitting a real one being impossible, of course), but she wasn't entirely lacking in occult capability. Quinn explained this to them on the ride over, Eva absorbing every detail with adorable attentiveness, the ghost hollering blue murder on the radio — dialled down to minimum volume, so basically just white noise — and Tonya pretending to barely listen. Quinn could tell it was pretence by the way the woman's ears perked up when she heard something interesting.</p> <p>"So yeah, she can't read your thoughts." Quinn shut off the engine. "But she <em>can</em> do a whole assortment of odd stuff which isn't easy to advertise without attracting criminal attention, so we throw her cases every once in a while to keep her rent paid and her nose clean."</p> <p>Tonya sniffed. "I do prefer cleanliness to squalor, though I'd be surprised to find the former in this neighbourhood."</p> <p>Quinn glanced at the gaudy shop window, which looked as though its owner had suffered a crisis of self-control at a Halloween sale. "Yeah, well. We called it in to Driscoll, so if somebody shivs us at least the bodies won't be lost indefinitely."</p> <p>They exited the vehicle, Vollan's ghost declining to open the door before doing so, and headed in. Some new-age tune jangled in the rafters. The shop was even more over-the-top inside, every visible surface plastered with pseudo-occult paraphernalia. Dozens of censers hung from the ceiling, filling the air with a haze which alternated between every imaginable scent, and Quinn was surprised it didn't catch fire what with all the lit candles strewn about. The Frau herself was dressed like a Roma, and didn't look like one, and didn't look like the sort to care if this caused offence. She was sitting at a small round table holding, what else, a polished crystal ball, and she smiled falsely as they approached. "Agent Law. So good to see you again. I don't suppose you've had time to consider my request?"</p> <p>Quinn sat down across from her while the others milled about. She saw the older woman's eyes narrow slightly at the sight of the headless ghost. "I might make time tomorrow for mulling it over if you make yourself useful today. I've got enough pull to get your familiar released."</p> <p>"Familiar?" Eva was picking at a shelf of souvenir shrunken golem heads with obvious interest.</p> <p>"She's got a pet cat," Quinn explained. "Human level intelligence, because it used to be human. Afterlife insurance salesman on the run from both the SEC and <a href="/scp-6987">Goldbaker-Reinz</a>, turned himself feline to escape prosecution or cross-multiversal obliteration and can't turn himself back."</p> <p>"Hard to light a candle when you're all paws," the Frau smiled nastily. "He never was the foresighted sort. At least his night vision's better now."</p> <p>"We've got him in lockup," Quinn finished, "while we decide who to piss off."</p> <p>"Letting him go would be better for all concerned." The Frau's smile widened; she still had all her teeth, but she'd blacked about half of them out. "Except him, but who cares about that? Took my life savings, drinks out of a bowl and shits in a box now. Karmic balance."</p> <p>"We'll have him shitting in your box again by close of business tomorrow if you help me find this asshole's head." Quinn gestured with one shoulder at where she knew the ghost would be.</p> <p>The Frau frowned. "His spectral head? How did he lose it?"</p> <p>Quinn spread her hands on the table in a gesture of defeat.</p> <p>"Hmm." The Frau tapped her forehead thoughtfully. "What's his name?"</p> <p>"Vollan. Rikard Vollan."</p> <p>"Ah hah." A moment's pause. "Well I can probably swing it, but… not every day I do an ectoplasmic locate. I'll have to look a few things up."</p> <p>"In some ancient, mouldering grimoire no doubt," Tonya muttered behind Quinn's back. She bit back a smile.</p> <p>"Nah." The Frau stuck her hand down into her brassiere, rummaged around a bit, and produced a cellphone. "Google."</p> <p>Karen and her dead date's ghost stared out of the window, what little there was exposed to stare out of behind the wall of worthless bric-a-brac. Every vista of Three Portlands was like a parody of itself, and this seedy quarter was no exception. A woman parasailed down the street on the leyline winds. Three mimes blocked a teenage couple's path by constructing an invisible wall, pantomiming a promise to take it down if a donation was made. A dog walked a man. She hate hate <em>hated</em> this city.</p> <p>The Frau's Google search seemed to be taking forever. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes passed before she finally muttered satisfaction, and asked for Vollan's cell phone. Quinn produced it, and the old woman fussed noisily with a bottle of essential oils and a baby wipe until Karen was sure she was risking electric shock.</p> <p>"I like your dress," Eva said to her.</p> <p>Karen turned around. "Thank you. My last date bought it for me."</p> <p>The cheerful thoughtform smiled and nodded encouragingly. "How did he die?"</p> <p>Karen frowned. "My dates don't always die. In fact, the majority of my dates have been perfectly s—"</p> <p>Eva lunged for her, and Karen had just barely not enough time to bring the taser up and prevent herself from being serial killed before being tackled to the floor as both shop windows, the door, and the wall partitions in between exploded over them.</p> <p>There was heat, there was noise — much of it shouted — and there was pain, none of it serious. Scrapes and bumps. The building creaked around her, the floor shook, and she heard a steady hiss of static over Eva's radio beside her. She clutched at the sound, and found the other woman's hand instead. They pulled themselves to their feet as Karen's ears stopped ringing, which she hadn't realized they'd been doing, and the static resolved into Vollan's panicked hollering.</p> <p>He was gone, as was the front of the shop. It hadn't been erased like the side wall of the Red Lord's Arms, merely smashed to scrap and atoms by, presumably, the blocky translucent shape disappearing across the street and down the far sidewalk. Karen craned her neck out the gap, mindful that the second storey could come crashing down on them all at any second, and caught a glimpse of Vollan fleeing from the ghostly golem, arms in the air like he very much cared.</p> <p>Quinn vaulted past her over the windowsill, gun out. It was a very impressive move. She glanced over her shoulder and hissed: "Stay here!"</p> <p>Then she was off into the evening traffic, badge waving. She had to hop onto the hood of a slow-moving hovercar to avoid being bowled over, the owner honking in outrage, and the motion didn't even slow her down.</p> <p>"What a dish," Eva swooned. "We had a jolly-up scheduled for today, and she always gets so energetic when we postpone."</p> <p>"Oh, yes? I think you should tell me all about that, before she comes back." Karen turned to see the Frau edging toward a beaded curtain leading to the back rooms. She froze when she saw Karen looking. "Where do you think you're going?"</p> <p>The old woman shrugged.</p> <p>"Watch her." Karen shook the dust out of her hair, and stepped over the ruined threshold.</p> <p>"Where are you going?" Eva asked.</p> <p>"To save my bodyguard, probably."</p> <p>It wasn't easy to keep up with the two ghosts, but she couldn't very easily lose them. Vollan wasn't yet adept enough at being dead to phase through all solid matter in his path, so he tended to take corners instead of cutting them and made a token effort to juke around pedestrians. The big thing — Quinn mentally labelled it the <em>ghostlem</em> — either couldn't go intangible or didn't see the point, instead scattering citizens and fire hydrants and rickshaws and garbage cans and thaumic scooter charging posts willy-nilly with its speed and bulk, shaving off the corners of the buildings its prey took the long way around. She stopped mentally tallying the cost when it hit seven figures.</p> <p>She had her gun out, and a few times considered taking a shot when the sightline was clear all the way through the target and out the other side, but she wasn't confident enough in her aim while running, didn't want to chance ricocheting a bullet into an innocent bystander, and wasn't sure she could do the thing any harm anyhow. So she did the only thing she could do: she kept up.</p> <p>Vollan was leading the ghostlem deeper into the city, and the traffic was thickening. That was no good. Sooner or later they were going to run into a heavy hitter, and then a general melee would break out, and whenever that happened in Three Portlands people got hurt on an industrial scale. There were simply too many absurd variables at play. She'd once seen a bust gone bad take a private jet out of the sky, and on another occasion had been transported to Tasmania after falling down a set of stairs. Part of being UIU was knowing that proportionate response had repercussions far beyond what happened to you or your quarry.</p> <p>Still, she could cut down the collateral damage some. She pulled a strobe light out of her pocket and waved it at the nearest stoplight, a few paces behind Vollan and a few ahead of the ghostlem, and all four lights went red at once. Vollan kept going, but the traffic stopped.</p> <p>So did the ghostlem.</p> <p>Only for a moment, but that moment was meaningful. The thing actually shimmered, glitched like an old VHS tape gone bad before spinning back up to resume the chase. She knew why in an instant, and confirmed the theory at the next intersection by turning the lights from red to orange to red again. This time the ghostlem actually fell flat on its lack of face, pinwheeling its boxy arms in a charming imitation of the headless ghost gaining ground ahead of it. The chaotic traffic signals also caused a few fender benders, and she winced at the sounds of broken headlights as she dashed into the intersection to…</p> <p>…to…</p> <p>The ghostlem rolled onto its back as she reached it, swinging out with one eerie cinderblockish fist, and she just barely dodged it. The fist flattened the front of a sleek silver rickshaw stopped at the intersection; its driver, a Peregrine Series android, stuck its head out and began calling home in frantic modem tones. The golem shuddered and screeched, then lashed out and up, catching the vehicle's underside and flipping it end over end. The sound stopped, and the monster staggered to its feet.</p> <p>The damage figure was now in the GDP range.</p> <p>Quinn raised the gun again, wondering if there was anything she could shoot that would buy her more time. Bring down the electric lines overhead? No way could she make a shot like that. Place a call and toss her cellphone at the thing? Not enough time. She substituted the strobe light again, and the ghostlem swatted it out of her hand. She spun, catching herself on the asphalt with stinging fingers, and waited to be jellified from behind.</p> <p><em>Fuck that,</em> she thought, and rolled over. <em>You're a necromancer. Witnessing your own death is first-hand data.</em></p> <p>The ghostlem had both fists clenched together, a solid chunk of unsolidity perfectly blocking and framing the sun, and it was about to bring them down on top of her when a pair of shining silver leads flew through its back and stuck in its Jello-like bulk. It hesitated for an instant, then <em>disappeared,</em> then reappeared, and began to jerk spasmodically in every direction. It flashed top to bottom like a television test pattern, bellowed like a 200 kilobaud bear, and hit the crosswalk like a very heavy dead thing.</p> <p>Quinn looked into the intersection. Tonya was standing in the middle of it, stance wide, taser in both hands, Quinn's rickshaw on the sidewalk behind her.</p> <p>"Ow," said Quinn, and it came out just shy of a proposition.</p> <p>Karen felt even more pleased with herself than usual, but had to admit Quinn did an admirable job hauling the murder robot onto her rickshaw and securing it to the roof with bungee cords. She felt she could spare the other woman a little respect. "You ran a good race," she said as Quinn taped an active dictaphone to the creature's flank. "Surprised you can run so fast with balls that big."</p> <p>Quinn flushed, and said nothing.</p> <p>It took them only a few minutes to track the errant ghost down. He'd chosen discretion over valour when the ghostlem — Karen rolled her eyes when presented with the neologism — had turned to fight its pursuer, and had hoofed it into Memorial Park where he had promptly been mobbed by a Civil War re-enactment composed entirely of real Civil War dead. They found him cowering in a faux foxhole as ethereal bombs burst in air overhead, hands clamped over the stump of his neck, and hauled him back to the rickshaw by his lapels. They left him shivering in the trunk.</p> <p>Eva was positively swooning. She and the Frau had ridden along in the backseat, and they'd seen the entire drama unfold from the sidewalk. "I'm glad I died," the reformed murderer told Quinn as Karen slid into the shotgun position. "The thirties were so much less interesting than this."</p> <p>The Frau hadn't left her seat, so Quinn hopped in the driver's side and craned her neck back to ask: "How'd your Googling go?"</p> <p>"Fine." The older woman was still scrolling on her phone. "I worked out the necessary rituals, and had time to spare, so I looked up the name you gave me. Vollan. He's the guy who was pushing for more esoteric immigration to Three Ports a few months back, you remember?"</p> <p>Karen did not remember. Vollan hadn't talked much shop, and while the Foundation was far more generally in-the-know than either the UIU or some washed-up psychic, she herself was an administrator first and foremost. Local news in a forbidden free port wasn't her <em>forte.</em></p> <p>Quinn, however, nodded. "Kinda do. Nothing came of it, right?"</p> <p>The Frau thumped the rickshaw roof meaningfully, then winced and shook out her hand when it failed to yield at all. "Maybe it did. Maybe he was importing ghost golems."</p> <p>Quinn frowned. "Doesn't seem likely. These don't seem like sapient things. More… manufactured, and not very well. Messy work."</p> <p>Karen slid lithely out the passenger side and glanced over the glitchy form. It was a hodgepodge of rough shapes, an outline in gleaming metal. Faint pulsing lines ran through and across it like a limbic system. "Thoughtform, maybe?" she mused. "Like your girlfriend?"</p> <p>"Could be," Quinn agreed, carefully not looking at Eva but instead glancing back at the Frau again. "Ever seen anything like it?"</p> <p>"No." The older woman looked agitated. "Hey, think maybe you should call for backup? I don't like it hanging over our heads like this."</p> <p>"Nuh-uh." Quinn squirmed in the seat and produced a wallet from her back pocket, which she tossed into the backseat. "We're still retaining your services. Track Vollan's missing head."</p> <p>"I have a better idea." Karen slid back into the rickshaw. "Track the ghostlem."</p> <p>Quinn blinked, then suddenly grinned. "Oh, <em>hell</em> yes. That's a much better idea. If it's a thoughtform, it's a <em>form.</em> Should be the same principle, right? But easier, because it's whole. Find out where it came from, and we can learn why it murdered Vollan."</p> <p>The Frau sighed. "Why not? I can't even close up, since you got my the entire storefront wiped out."</p> <p>"How does your divination work?" Karen asked.</p> <p>The Frau produced Vollan's cellphone from the folds of her robe, and held it equidistant from her own. "I biangulate," she explained. "I feed my chakra into the leywaves, and focus on the presence I'm tracking, and I can project where they've been onto any GPS."</p> <p>"No," Karen said. "That's stupid. That's far, far too stupid to be anything real." She looked at Quinn. "Tell her that's stupid, and then tell me you mean it."</p> <p>Quinn smiled apologetically.</p> <p>"Road trip!" Eva shouted enthusiastically.</p> <p>The Frau sat in the centre of the backseat, arms outstretched so that each phone was pointing out one of the rickshaw, Eva leaning back to give her room. "I call upon the powers vested in me by Android, Experia, Nokia and BlackBerry."</p> <p>"Fuck off," Tonya laughed, and Quinn felt the sudden urge to high-five her or worse. "We have no time for theatre, just do your magic."</p> <p>The mystic shrugged, then closed her eyes. "Hmm." She opened her eyes, hummed some more, then shuddered as though an electric charge had gone through her body. "It's got a strong spirit," she remarked. "Very strong. Too strong. More like a gestalt spirit, many voices, many paths. But all with the same origin." She nodded. "Turn the GPS on."</p> <p>Quinn powered up the cheap dashboard unit, and a course laid itself out automatically. Frau der Streich was a terrible psychic, but she was nobody's fool at electromancy.</p> <p>The golem's path through the power lines to the Frau's shop took them on a winding tour of the city's edge, from the GOC offices Vollan had been fleeing toward to the paranormal consulates, the ICSUT campus and the false front used as <a href="/vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub">Vikander-Kneed Technical Media</a>'s mailing address, a paper-thin façade which collapsed at least once a week, burying local traffic. Before long they were wending their way through greenbelt sideroads and one-way streets, their guide twitching and muttering to herself in binary code, Quinn pointing out the local landmarks to Eva and occasionally stealing glances at Tonya. The elegant blonde hadn't lost one iota of intensity over the course of their little outing, but the waves of ice radiating off her no longer seemed quite so frosty. Nothing like a mystery and a bit of life-or-death exertion to break down one's barriers.</p> <p>Finally the Frau announced they would need to make the remainder of the trek on foot, having brought them to Garland Park which was closed to all motorized traffic. They left the rickshaw in a parking lot Quinn would have found unaffordable without her police pass, and watched the old fraud swaying in the dying light of evening with both phones still clutched in her hands. "I can see it in the waves now," she proclaimed. "Bouncing all around. We're close, very close, I know it."</p> <p>Vollan's ghost was still in the foetal position in the trunk, as Quinn had expected. It didn't have many virtues as a perch, but was far too small to contain a ghostlem, so the dead man had once again chosen discretion and stayed put. It took all four of them to haul him back out.</p> <p>Tonya twisted her ankle at the half-mile mark, and Quinn hung back to check on her. "You really should have borrowed some sneakers before we left." She did like seeing beautiful woman wearing her clothes…</p> <p>"She's leading us on a wild goose chase." Tonya pretended to adjust her shoe.</p> <p>Quinn blinked. "You think?"</p> <p>"Yes." Tonya pretended to massager her ankle. "Most likely she's in on this with whoever sent the ghostlems. She was on her phone a few minutes before—"</p> <p>"—we got attacked. Right." Quinn glanced up. The Frau was spinning in a circle in the middle of the park like Maria in <em>The Sound of Music,</em> no doubt looking for a better signal, and <em>oh bless her heart</em> Eva was doing the same beside her for no particular reason. Vollan's ghost was sulking beneath a transplanted Hy-Brasilian golden ash tree. "She tipped them off. You're probably right."</p> <p>"You'll get used to that," Tonya smiled. "So what do we do?"</p> <p>"Keep following her, I guess," Quinn shrugged. "I've got a tracker on me, so if something happens the bureau will know. I'd rather find out where she's leading us than ditch her and end up with no leads at all. You game?"</p> <p>The smile became, for the first time, a grin. It was fierce, and it took Quinn aback. "I am <em>entirely</em> game. I hate being lied to much more than I hate being shot at."</p> <p>Quinn held out a hand, and helped the other woman up. Her hand was soft, very soft, but the grip was firm.</p> <p>Very firm.</p> <p>The next hour saw them across a series of promenades, open markets and closed malls, the Frau making a spectacle of herself at every possible occasion. Now that she was looking for it, Quinn realized the woman was definitely signalling her allies. The suspicion was only confirmed when they ducked into the alley between an occult bookstore and a Fifthism-and-Nickel bodega, and the late night crowds thinned out to nothing at all. "Getting close now," the Frau trilled. "Just a few more—"</p> <p>Eva slammed the charlatan into the nearest brick wall with the pitchfork she was suddenly holding in her hands, tines pressed straight through the right shoulder and out her back. There was surprisingly little blood. The cellphones clattered to the alley floor. "Do they think you're important?" Eva asked.</p> <p>"What? WHAT?!" the Frau howled. Quinn saw the headless ghost edge away from them, and once again considered brandishing her useless firearm.</p> <p>"The people you're leading us to, or leading to us. Do they think you're important, or expendable? Because if they think you're important you'll be a good bargaining chip, but if you're expendable, we might as well expend you and go on our way."</p> <p>Quinn shared a look with Tonya. She had the distinct impression the woman was feeling platonically what Quinn was feeling romantically toward the living legend.</p> <p>The Frau cursed in a pastiche of several Germanic languages. "Turn on your damn radio," she hissed.</p> <p>Eva had the portable set looped around her belt. She reached down to roll the volume wheel, and Vollan's voice spilled out in a rush. "—her go, let her GO god dammit! She's on my side! She's taking me home."</p> <p>The three of them who could still turn, turned to stare at him.</p> <p>He raised his hands in placation. "The Frau is on my payroll, that's why I sent you to her. She's taking you to one of my holding companies. They'll know how to help me."</p> <p>"Holding companies," Quinn repeated. "Why do I have a feeling that's a euphemism? Foreign politicians don't get headshot in upmarket bistros for honest business dealings, Vollan. What's waiting for us where we're going? A warehouse full of mercenaries and four tubs full of acid?"</p> <p>"Hey. Hey. Be calm." The ghost mimed the tamping-down of a raging fire. "We can negotiate out of this. My people will know how to—"</p> <p>Quinn scooped up the dead man's phone as he made his pitch, and brandished it at him with one hand while striking a scented match on her belt with the other. "Still thy tongue, unmourned dead. Stay thy hand, and hang thy head. Follow me and mine awhile, in aspect calm, devoid of guile."</p> <p>Vollan slumped forward but did not fall, like a puppet on slack strings.</p> <p>"And also go fuck yourself," Quinn added. "Airhead." She dropped the match, which died in the dirt in a burst of blue flame, and plucked the radio off her belt. "This is Agent Law."</p> <p>"Go ahead," Driscoll answered immediately.</p> <p>"I need search warrants and raiding teams for all local businesses near my location, and I need it fast. This relates to the execution of a GOC executive, and the planned execution of a federal agent." She paused. "And her friends."</p> <p>Driscoll paused, then acknowledged. Quinn replaced the radio at her hip, and saw that the Frau had passed out. Eva was still holding her in place, a look of grim satisfaction on her pretty face. Tonya looked like a literal portrait of awe, and Quinn realized the awe was directed at her. <em>I do put on a good show, don't I?</em> She was far too pleased with herself to spoil the moment by saying the thing which occurred to her as she observed the little tableau.</p> <p>"Pitchfork medium." Tonya clearly hated herself for uttering the words, and Quinn felt a heady rush of quite the opposite.</p> <p>Vollan owned practically the entire district, it turned out, and he did indeed have more than one warehouse filled with mercenaries claiming total ignorance of any incoming assassination targets. The warehouses were also filled with electronic equipment of every possible description, and the search warrants Driscoll was able to secure quickly filled in the picture for them: the deceased Silicon Nornir diplomat was a major importer and exporter of contraband hardware. Thaumodynamic capacitors, quantum liquaporters, ectoplasmic dispersal conduits, all of them with bespoke forged permits attesting to their absolute safety and certification. If the man wasn't building a superweapon, he was setting up a clearinghouse for supervillains. Karen was no longer surprised at how expensive his tastes had been; the man obviously liked to live dangerously.</p> <p>Driscoll was impressed with the results. He asked Quinn to be his deputy on what was now a full-fledged taskforce, and she seemed happy to accept. He agreed not to detain Eva for assaulting the Frau, which made her even happier. He insisted on coming along when they followed up on the next lead, and further insisted they bring along the catatonic ghost, two developments she apparently felt ambivalent about, but it didn't matter. They knew where all the lines converged now.</p> <p>The search of Vollan's offices yielded a wealth of paperwork attesting to a diverse array of undisclosed sundry businesses in Three Portlands. One in particular stood out, a housing development called Empty Acres which seemed to exist in the memory of no human being or electronic registry. Further research suggested Vollan owned land in The Divot, a stable spatial flexure in the city's dimensional bubble which was easily its least prime chunk of real estate, so that became the most likely suspect. Quinn said she'd never secured a simpler warrant, minus the part where she had to keep reminding the judge what this was all about.</p> <p>Karen's head was swimming. Whatever this was, it was obviously a whole lot bigger than a hit on a GOC rep — which was already pretty big. She knew she ought to call it in, but there was no reason to make the diplomatic incident tripartite if she could help it. Involving the Foundation cast suspicion on the Foundation in ten cases out of ten, that was just the way things were with the Groups of Interest. So she put on a show, brazenly insisting she tag along, and Quinn eagerly backed her up. They loaded up the rickshaw, ectoentropically-generated farm tool and all, and headed down to The Divot to see what was what.</p> <p>There were indeed buildings on Vollan's plot of land, which dipped so far below the paraboloid sheet that the water table turned the soil both marshy and blue, and every structure crunched inward like a parallelogram at the top. The complex was an L-arrangement of ugly rotten brownstones, a massive pile of trash lying ignored in the courtyard, windows boarded up and a series of jet black vehicles parked on either side of the narrow street. A sign on the yellow lawn read EMPTY ACRES.</p> <p>"Does the town not collect garbage?" Karen asked.</p> <p>"They do," Quinn responded. "Trash in Three Ports is no laughing matter. The stuff folks throw away around here can turn you green, or inside out, or back in time. We've got the speediest sanitation workers this side of Eurtec. I don't get it." She headed up the short flight of stairs to the double doors of the nearest building, gun drawn, then knocked on the rail with her boot.</p> <p>No response.</p> <p>She tried the door. No response there either. She noted the wide glass windows on either side, shuttered with Venetian blinds; she also noted the two-by-four discarded on the porch.</p> <p>They weren't inside long before the stench became unbearable. "Is that… alcohol?" Karen wrinkled her nose.</p> <p>Quinn was watching her wrinkle her nose. She shook her head, apparently to clear it, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's alcohol. And a whole lot besides." She picked her way through the trash-strewn corridor. "This place is a sty, but someone's still cleaning it. Just enough to get by."</p> <p>"Empty Acres is supposed to be a housing development." Karen narrowly avoided spearing a moldy sandwich with her high heel. "This is more like a retirement home gone to pot."</p> <p>Quinn nodded. "If there's anyone still in here, they are <em>mighty</em> retired. Guess we're gonna have to check each door."</p> <p>This turned out to be unnecessary. The first door she tried led to a relatively tidy room absolutely reeking of antiseptic, wherein they found a molded leather couch occupied by a withered-looking humanoid… something. It was difficult to concentrate on them, particularly the facial features, if they existed at all. The figure was sitting zen-style on the cushions, eyes closed and thumbs and forefingers locked together, as though meditating. They were hooked up to half a dozen IVs, and a catheter, and a colostomy bag. Karen's nose wrinkled further, and this time Quinn was too busy retching to watch. Eva's green eyes were wide and frightened. The ghost's arms hung down below its waist, and it stared at the carpet.</p> <p>"What are we looking at?" Driscoll asked slowly.</p> <p>"If I had to guess?" Karen focused as hard as she could on the seated form, and still found it impossible to make out their face. "I'd guess these are the immigrants Vollan was sponsoring."</p> <p>Try though they might, they couldn't stir the faceless humanoid to wake. A search of the other rooms revealed similar beings, all passively antimemetic, all slowly withering away to nothing… like Empty Acres itself. It proved impossible to get backup to help explore the complex, everyone else lacking the personal connection to the case which had allowed Quinn to focus long enough to pull up alongside it. There were teams of agents driving circles around The Divot even now, forgetting and remembering and forgetting once again what they were supposed to be doing and why.</p> <p>Some of the patients, if that was what they were, did have faces. Quinn took photos of their faces, and sent them back to the bureau for identification. While she was waiting for a response, Eva stumbled on something else: a <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uiu-file-2003-112">utility golem</a> standing stock still in a janitor's closet, wearing a hospital orderly outfit. There was something very wrong with the inscription on its forehead; it made Tonya's eyes itch, and it gave Quinn a splitting headache that disappeared as soon as she looked away. When the IDs came in and Quinn looked down at her phone, the golem suddenly lurched to life and staggered into the hallway, apparently blind as a bat. They watched it tend the IVs, one by one, empty the catheters and colostomy bags out the windows, pour antiseptic onto the shuddering figures which twitched and moaned in their trances as the bacteria on their skin bubbled and fizzed. It paid them no notice.</p> <p>"I knew it." Quinn pocketed her phone again. "I <em>fucking</em> knew it."</p> <p>"What?" Driscoll watched the golem putter back into the closet, and close the door.</p> <p>"The ones who aren't antimemetic. They're the programmers who went missing. The ones everyone thinks the <em>fucking</em> skippers took."</p> <p>Tonya winced, apparently at the profanity.</p> <p>The other agent whistled. "Wow. I wonder what Vollan needed that many programmers for?"</p> <p>Quinn opened her mouth, then closed it, then frowned, then opened her frown. "It doesn't look like he needs them for anything? They're all comatose. He's a slum landlord, and he's keeping them sedated. Got the golem taking care of their biologicals, presumably while he siphons off their funds and keeps them from moving on or out. He made a bank account out of these folks."</p> <p>Tonya looked briefly like she might spit on the morose ghost, only reconsidering because it would be both unladylike and unlikely to take affect.</p> <p>Driscoll shook his head. "Doesn't explain it all. Sure, grab the antimemetic people, whoever they are, because everyone will forget they even existed. Perfect crime. But why programmers? Those disappearances hit the papers hard for a few weeks, before the whole rat mayor scandal overshadowed it. And it can't be cost-effective to maintain all this medical equipment, even with golem labour. Hell, just <em>purchasing</em> a golem is a major investment. Doesn't add up."</p> <p>"Huh."</p> <p>"So wherever they are, they must be doing something important for him."</p> <p>"Hold up," Tonya interrupted. "Wherever they are? They're right here."</p> <p>"Physically, sure." Driscoll nodded. "Spiritually, they're astral projecting."</p> <p>Quinn sucked in a breath. "He'd know," she said. "He's an expert." She turned to face the other women. "Why would you want a bunch of programmers to astral project?"</p> <p>"I still don't really understand what programming is," said Eva. "I was born over a century ago."</p> <p>"Tech companies do that work-from-home thing, right?" Karen suggested. "Could be what this is. Telepresence."</p> <p>Driscoll scoffed. "Looks like major crunch time, if that's what this is. They're emaciated. Starving."</p> <p>"Video game development, then."</p> <p>Quinn pondered. "Ethan?" she said.</p> <p>"Yes?" Driscoll answered.</p> <p>"Do you still do forced projection?"</p> <p>The other agent screwed up his face. "I mean, where it's necessary, sure, but…"</p> <p>"Would you not say this is necessary? We can't break them out of these trances until we know where they've gone. They could die if we wake them up. They could be doing something important. They could be placating angry silicon gods. They could be immanentizing the Nornir eschaton. We don't know, and we need to."</p> <p>"Ugh." He shook his head. "Don't feel good about that. What if I can't bring you back?"</p> <p>"Then you'll know they went somewhere bad."</p> <p>"Hold on." Tonya was raising one finger primly. "He can force you to astral project?"</p> <p>Quinn nodded and shook her head at the same time. "Sort of, yes, no. His talent is identifying astral pathways and pushing light bodies along them. He can help me project, then send my projection where theirs went." She pointed at the skinny woman breathing shallowly on the couch beside them.</p> <p>"This sounds like a terrible idea." Eva's features were tight with concern. "If you're going to do it, you can't do it alone. I'm coming with you."</p> <p>"Not a good idea." Driscoll shook his head. "Never projected a thoughtform before. You might just fade into the imaginary and be lost for good. Ethically wouldn't even consider doing it."</p> <p>"So you go with her, then," Eva suggested. The tightness was in her voice now as well.</p> <p>Again he shook his head. "Can't do that. Need to be out here, in case I see signs of trauma and have to pull her out."</p> <p>"Oh, for fuck's sake." Tonya walked into the middle of their rough semicircle. "Obviously <em>I'm</em> going with her. There isn't even a discussion to be had. Get out your smelling salts, or whatever, and let's get these souls on the road."</p> <p>Karen closed her eyes, and focused on Quinn. They were lying down in a vacant room on a picnic blanket Quinn had stashed in the back of her rickshaw, holding hands. Eva was sitting in the corner, watching them. Vollan was in the hall, watching nothing. Driscoll was sitting beside Quinn, his own eyes closed, one hand on the forehead of a sleeping programmer stretched out on the apartment floor. A career administrator, Karen had meditated hundreds of times. Some days she did it instead of sleep. Some days she did it in the middle of meetings she knew she could afford to ignore. Oftentimes she did it while other people were trying to make small talk with her. They already thought she was a bitch, after all, so what could it hurt to ignore them? She felt the other woman's hand clenched, and clenched her hand back. Focused on the sensation, on that one body part and the connection it formed with her unlikely ally. She stilled her breathing, and relaxed. She saw her body in her mind's eye, expanding to take in every muscle and organ then contracting back in to just the tips of her fingertips. She felt the vibrations coming on, and in a state of sudden hypnosis she asked herself sleepily <em>how much weirder can this date get?</em></p> <p>It almost broke the spell when she reminded herself that the date had been with the dead man, and not the woman whose hand was in her hand, who was breathing in time with her, who was—</p> <p>—floating beside her, red hair billowing like a burst of blood in water. They were floating. They were free. They were—</p> <p>They were <em>moving.</em> She felt the push, felt a tether pull her backward through a vast expanse of stars, through a field of swaying corn, through the blackest depths of ocean, through the memories of lives she'd lived on other planes of existence so real and vivid she wanted to weep, and finally through a sheer blank sheet of white nothing. Then her mind resumed its rationalization, and she found herself gazing down on Three Portlands far below, the unique topology so warped at this altitude that her stomach would have wrenched had she still been attached to it. She tightened her grip on her friend's spectral hand, and they made eye contact as the cord dragged them formlessly through empty streets and empty halls and empty parks in a grey and blue simulacrum of urban structure.</p> <p>And then they were back in the vacant room, only now it was truly vacant. No Driscoll, no Vollan, no Eva. Just Karen and Quinn, translucent and weightless and also entirely nude.</p> <p>Quinn looked away, an enchantingly guileless gesture since there was nothing to see but blank walls and the closed door.</p> <p>"Where are we?" Karen asked. "Or I suppose, where are <em>they?</em>"</p> <p>"I think they're where we left them." Quinn walked gingerly around the room, clearly uncomfortable with her clothing situation and attempting not to sneak glances at Karen's. "Astral projection is supposed to allow your light body to visit physical locations in the real world, but unbound by physical restraints. That's not what this is at all. We've astral projected to somewhere else entirely, some kind of… astral <em>simulation?</em>"</p> <p>"Simulation," Karen agreed, and they said the next word at the same time: "Programmers."</p> <p>The door opened, and a faceless being like the ones back at the real Empty Acres walked in. Its blank body was tensed to fight, hands clenched into fists, and its echoey voice seemed very far away when it spoke: "Who are you? We didn't hear about any new tenants. Did Vollan send you?"</p> <p>They shared a glance. "I'm the diplomat," Karen said. Quinn nodded. Karen stepped forward, and extended a hand. "I'm Tonya, and this is Quinn. Vollan most definitely did not send us. Vollan is dead."</p> <p>She had the general sense of a smile from the figure, and its stance relaxed somewhat as it shook her hand. "Tell me something I don't know. But he could still have sent you. We know he's walking around down there."</p> <p>"That's my fault." Quinn stepped forward, not offering a hand since hers were both positioned for maximum modesty. "I'm a necromancer, UIU. I called his spirit forth as part of an official investigation into his murder."</p> <p>"Mm." The figure sighed heavily. "Should have known that would happen. It was a lousy plan, but it was all we had. Well, whatever. Maybe you'll come up with a better one once you've been stuck here a few months." He made a lazy, vaguely welcoming gesture. "Welcome to the Astral Projects."</p> <p>"Vollan is hardcore GOC." The antimemetic projection led them through the halls of the Astral Projects, the slumland of the disembodied. "He was overseeing a research team working on aerosolized amnestics, for handling long-term memories in large localized incident zones. You know, cult villages, towns with zombie plague outbreaks, cities witnessing pataphysics on the local news. That sort of thing. He wanted to tackle the problem from an angle nobody had ever tried before. Got us all trained up on theosophy, the grand truth undergirding all human thought." He snorted. "Rich idiots always think there's some philosophical trick to making all their dreams come true. Believe it into being. Wish he hadn't been so right."</p> <p>They passed a dozen open apartment doors, where naked nobodies shovelled grey slurry into their mouths or argued in fierce whispers or openly wept. There was trash on the floor, as there was back on Earth. The place was in a worse state of disrepair than its physical counterpart. It reeked of pure despair, translated directly from minds to mind-palace.</p> <p>"Did you know about this?" Quinn asked Tonya. They were still holding hands.</p> <p>"Of course not." The other woman's voice was coldly furious. Quinn squeezed her hand once.</p> <p>"Anyway," their guide continued, "he didn't know the first thing about tech. Pushed the team hard. We couldn't get a chemical solution that worked right, but nanites showed real promise."</p> <p>"You're joking." Quinn didn't even try to keep the horror from her voice.</p> <p>"Memory-altering nanite clouds?" Tonya growled. "What did they call this, Project Grey Goo? That's wildly irresponsible."</p> <p>"Vollan didn't want responsibility, he wanted results. And he probably would have gotten them, except we went into crunch time, people got sleepy, people got <em>sloppy,</em> and we had… an incident." The figure's voice was flat, without affect, but he still managed to give off the sense of remembered dread with that pregnant pause. "The nanites worked on noetic principles, making tiny local edits to cognition. They malfunctioned, bad. Real bad."</p> <p>"How bad?" Quinn asked.</p> <p>"Wiping our identities bad." The blank head shook from side to side, rueful. "The whole research division. One misplaced integer and we lost our entire lives. Family, friends, jobs, government records. Erased from existence. One hundred people, all passively antimemetic."</p> <p>"Wow." It was an empty utterance, but nothing Quinn could have said would have been sufficient. "That's… I'm sorry."</p> <p>They passed a woman who still had her face. She was weeping, heaving, staring at the ceiling. "WHY?" she screamed. "WHY CAN'T I CRY?" Her translucent eyes were matte, dry.</p> <p>"A few days later," their guide continued, heedless, "we get an offer from a landlord in Three Portlands, says he has a real deal for us. We live in his apartment buildings rent free, and he gets his scientists to run non-intrusive tests on us. Maybe find a solution, maybe just develop some applications. But we can't tell the GOC, since even though they've forgotten the project, the data is all theirs. We agreed. Didn't have a lot of options."</p> <p>"And that's how you ended up in Empty Acres," said Tonya.</p> <p>"Yeah. Good name, right?" The figure chuckled drily. "Only good thing about it. Goddamn leper colony. No money, no prospects. Couldn't leave the buildings without potentially getting stopped by the cops, or the UIU, or worse."</p> <p>"Worse?" Tonya asked.</p> <p>"The skippers."</p> <p>"Goddamn skippers," Quinn swore. "You'd be lucky to trade one box for another."</p> <p>Tonya said nothing.</p> <p>"I'd make a pine box joke, but we both know they're the mass grave sort," the figure agreed. "But yeah, we couldn't really do much but hang around the complex feeling sorry for ourselves. The landlord didn't give a shit, we never even saw the guy. Barely any staff. So we started making some noise. Actual noise for starters, loud music and TV in the middle of the night. Then we'd turn on all the electrical equipment, try to max out his power bill. Piled garbage in the halls. Interfered with the tests. Anything to make it clear we weren't gonna take this shit lying down. Nothing, nothing, nothing. As far as the world was concerned, we were invisible. Then one day the man himself shows, large as life, and pitches us his plan."</p> <p>"Plan?" They were in the common area now, capacious space banked with wide windows overlooking the courtyard. It was filled with long tables, and the tables were filled with expensive-looking desktop computers, all as ethereal as the person-like shapes tapping away at them. <em>The illegal components,</em> Quinn thought. There was a ghostly golem standing in the middle of the programming cluster, and it watched them pass without comment. It wasn't like the one that had been haunting Vollan; it was, she realized in a rush of understanding, the golem they'd seen at Empty Acres. In between cleaning the shit and piss out of their bags, it astral projected back here to keep an eye on the inmates. <em>They taught a fucking golem to astral project.</em> Her moral core, police instincts and practitioner's ethics fought to see which aspect could be more horrified.</p> <p>"An escape." The figure shook its head again. "We could let him take care of our bodies while we took care of our souls. Astral project to a holiday dimension where our every need would be met, all of it powered by our biometrics, our medical care covered by the city under the auspices of a care facility. It made sense. It sounded good. So we signed up, and he sent us here one by one."</p> <p>It gestured at the blank walls, the blank faces, the blank sky through the windows, the dead tree in the middle of the courtyard full of dead grass. The blue-grey hellscape.</p> <p>"The mental echo of Empty fucking Acres," the figure continued. "He tricked us into becoming wards of his company, giving them total control over our bodies, with our souls living in a habitat he controlled. We all found out soon enough that once you check into the Astral Projects, you never check out. It's a one-way trip."</p> <p>Tonya stopped walking. They were standing in a stairwell; they could hear echoes from above and below, dozens of voices raised in protest or lament. "Are you saying we can't leave?"</p> <p>The figure shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe <em>you</em> can. I don't know how you got in here, we've never seen anyone from outside the department or Vollan himself. How did you get past the guards and scientists?"</p> <p>"There weren't any," said Quinn. "Place looked abandoned, except for the golem."</p> <p>"What? Seriously?!" The faceless figure's body language communicated raw panic. "Who's looking after our bodies?"</p> <p>"Uh… nobody, far as we could tell." Quinn wasn't sure she should be telling him this, but she was certain he deserved to know. Tonya didn't protest. "Looked like they were just going to leave you to die. The golem was emptying and refilling your bags, but that's it. The whole site has gone mildly antimemetic, they probably figured you'd just rot away without anyone noticing, or… forgot you themselves, actually."</p> <p>"That's what it was," Tonya agreed. "He was saying at dinner he'd been checking up on business. Probably trying to figure out why the research wasn't getting done, didn't realize your antimemetic contagion was spreading." She paused. "Sorry."</p> <p>"Jesus. Wow. Okay." The figure leaned back on the nearest wall, becoming an almost indistinguishable fixture of it. "That pushes the timeline forward a little. No wonder some of the programmers have been getting woozy."</p> <p>"Timeline? What timeline?"</p> <p>It regarded them coolly. "I don't know if I trust you enough to tell you that. We're working on something, and it's not what we're supposed to be working on."</p> <p>"Actually, wait." Tonya placed both hands on her hips, and Quinn looked down at them, then rapidly back up. She wondered if astral projections could blush. "What <em>are</em> you supposed to be working on? What are all these people doing on those computers?"</p> <p>The figure headed up the stairs, and they followed. "A whole bevy of tech projects. If you know anything about programming, you know companies hate paying for the work they extract."</p> <p>"Not just in programming," Tonya remarked.</p> <p>"Sure, but there's a special relationship between tech companies and overwork. Crunch culture. The boss wants you working every second of every day, and he doesn't want to pay you extra for it. This place is the natural extension of that." The next floor opened on an open plan computer lab not unlike the one downstairs, but much larger. Quinn's mind boggled at how many people, faceless and otherwise, were trapped body and soul in this unholy arrangement. These ones were all wearing headsets. "Welcome to the world's cheapest twenty-four hour call centre."</p> <p>"Oh," Quinn said breathlessly. "You've got to be kidding."</p> <p>"Nope. For the one time investment of a stolen golem and an astral pusher, you too can own a whole apartment complex full of free tech support. The folks downstairs are working on a secure connection protocol called NornirVPN. The ones upstairs are immanentizing the eschatosilacon. And Vollan's raking in the cash, as he never tires of telling us whenever he projects on up here."</p> <p>"He visits you?" Tonya snorted in frustration. "To what, brag? Give marching orders? I'm sorry you only killed him twice. Wait, how <em>did</em> you—"</p> <p>"No, <em>wait</em> wait," Quinn interrupted. "You said astral pusher? You mean you didn't all learn to astral project?"</p> <p>The figure laughed. "You kidding me? We're programmers! We have absolutely zero cool. No, he got a guy to do that for him. Real smooth operator. Professional."</p> <p>"Oh," said Tonya. "Shit."</p> <p>"Do you think they're alright?" Eva stroked Quinn's hair gently. Her eyes were moving back and forth rapidly.</p> <p>"I know it." Driscoll maneuvered Vollan's ghost into the room, then closed the door and locked it.</p> <p>Eva sighed. "How will you know if that changes? If you need to pull them out?"</p> <p>He sat down beside the comatose programmer, checking her vitals. "Just trust me," he smiled. "I'm a professional."</p> <p>"Driscoll," Quinn spat. No spit came out. "Of course. But… wait. Does that mean he was trying to save his boss when he had me summon his ghost? Were they hoping to… re-embody him?"</p> <p>The figure's stance suggested perplexity. "Did they not try?"</p> <p>"Well, no. They had me take him to a safe house, then let me drag him all across town looking for clues. We were looking for his head."</p> <p>The figure's eyes became visible long enough for a slow blink to be seen. "His head?" The figure laughed flatly. "Don't tell me we blew his astral head off, too?!" It continued to laugh, so long and so hard that it doubled over, and they could suddenly hear a scrap of actual personality in the sound. The figure was male.</p> <p>"What's your name?" Karen asked.</p> <p>He said something she couldn't understand, and she forgot it immediately. "Not that you'll remember. But oh, wow. That's amazing. Thanks for telling me that. That really made my day. Mm." He straightened again. "I guess your heart's in the right place."</p> <p>"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "Back in the real world, with the rest of our bodies. All our bodies. Can't you help us get back there?"</p> <p>He shook his head. "Not like we haven't tried. We have no control over these projections. There's a few ways he could be keeping us here, Vollan, and it hardly matters which one is operative. We've been working on a solution, and I guess it can't hurt to tell you about it. If he was gonna send spies or auditors or whatever, he wouldn't be this subtle."</p> <p>He took a deep breath.</p> <p>"None of us have a lick of occult ability, but there's decades of combined programming knowledge here. We decided to put that to use."</p> <p>"To what end?" Karen asked.</p> <p>"Well, you know, we can't go back. So we decided to go forward. We're building an astral supercomputer, and uploading ourselves into it."</p> <p>"What?" they asked, at the same time.</p> <p>"Astrodigital superprojection." There was a note of pride in the man's voice. "The body dies, the soul fades, but consciousness lives on."</p> <p>"Is that… even plausible?" Quinn sounded very tired.</p> <p>"Plausible? It works!" The man waved his hands, reminding Karen momentarily of her dead, despised date. "It's online right now. We're still debugging the system, and there's not enough room for everyone yet, and we haven't figured out the framework for making code changes within the thing to make it totally self-sufficient, but we'll get there. Hopefully before we starve to death. There's seriously nobody watching our bodies?"</p> <p>"Not that we saw," Quinn replied brusquely. "This simulation, it's not the apartment building again?"</p> <p>"Oh, hell no. It's a paradise, a real paradise. Ideal forms in motion. You'd love it. I could show you, if you like?"</p> <p>Quinn considered, and Karen took the opportunity to seize the initiative. She still had a job to do, after all. "Maybe. First we'd like to know how you're planning on powering all this. Was Vollan dumb enough to leave you the resources you needed to level up out of his prison?"</p> <p>"In a way," he sighed. "Let me show you."</p> <p>The server room behind the eschaton workroom was packed full of so much machinery that only an astral humanoid could fit inside. "By design," their guide informed them. "Definitely don't want the golems coming in here, and anywhere the golems can't go, Vollan won't."</p> <p>At the back of the room, hooked up to a mass of blinking towers, was a chair full of leads and injectors and festooned with spectral straps.</p> <p>"When we realized we were trapped here, a lot of us gave up. Tried to flatline our bodies." The voice was far away, remembering. "It worked; some people winked out of existence, the ones who had really lost the plot. A few gave their souls up for science, which helped us to develop that." He pointed at the chair. "But eventually it got so bad — probably no fun disposing of antimemetic corpses, and cutting into the bottom line to boot — that Driscoll himself started showing up. Tried to calm us down. Pretended to hear out our complaints. Had a bunch of other projectionists powering up his projection so we couldn't harm him, but… well. He didn't really think it through. He didn't know about the machine we were building. If he had, I don't think he would've let them lag his astral form."</p> <p>"They what?" Quinn was entirely lost, and Tonya looked much the same.</p> <p>"Latency. You might also know it as quantum spiritposition."</p> <p>"I do not," Tonya said. "Know it as that. Or very likely anything else."</p> <p>"Well. Basically you let your astral form stay projected, but you keep your consciousness in your physical body, with the option to snap back to the projection if something goes wrong. He left his projection in the Projects while he went on that date with you."</p> <p>"What?" Tonya looked truly, legitimately astonished for the first time since Quinn had known her — which had only been a few hours, though it felt like days or weeks. "How did you know about the date?"</p> <p>"He bragged about it. Obviously didn't think we could affect the real world, so why not? Wanted us to know what a gorgeous woman he pulled. He wasn't wrong, by the way."</p> <p>Tonya stood up taller, and Quinn allowed herself a brief look over the other woman's fit form. She obviously wasn't shy about her looks, so it didn't feel like an invasion of privacy. It felt like something else entirely.</p> <p>"And that was his mistake," the figure continued. "We knew where his body was, we had a low-powered astral computer with a limited bandwidth infoline to the Three Portlands power grid, and we had a passel of angry theosophists. So we had them make a simple tulpa—"</p> <p>"What's a tulpa?" Tonya asked.</p> <p>Quinn was glad to have the answer. "An intentionally manifested thoughtform. Most thoughtforms, like Eva, come out of a public imaginary through unconscious mass reinforcement. Tulpas are private or shared creations ideated and actualized with agency."</p> <p>"Right," the figure nodded. "We ganged up on one of Vollan's golems — he used to have two of them in here — disabled it and hooked it up to the sim. Uploaded the data, and uploaded a few of our own selves, and directed the spiritual energy to the real world. It was absolute hell, but we managed to tap into the power grid in Three Ports. Zeroed in on the thaumic energy and the massive electrical draw, it all shows up in the Metaphysiverse like a red giant star beneath your feet."</p> <p>"Metaphysiverse," Quinn repeated.</p> <p>"That's what we call it," the figure agreed. "Our new home. We're going to put every single one of our souls in there, when we have the power, and then it won't matter where our bodies or astral forms are. We're going to upload our ghosts, the uttermost semblances of self, into the meta shell and hack ourselves a whole new form of creation." His blank gaze was faraway for a moment, then he remembered his place in the narrative. "So yeah. We transformed the golem's energy into a cybertulpa — got three Jewish programmers on staff, and one of them knew enough golemancy to rewrite the words —- then pumped it into the power grid, dumped it into Three Ports and started popping heads."</p> <p>"Heads?" Quinn repeated again. "More than one?"</p> <p>"All of Vollan's projectionists," the figure explained. "So he'd be weakened."</p> <p>"Why didn't you just contact the authorities?" Tonya demanded. "Could have saved us a whole lot of trouble."</p> <p>"Except the authorities pathologically forget we exist, and Vollan's got a chokehold on all of them already. Moles in the UIU, contacts in the GOC, probably even moles in the Foundation too. We couldn't trust anybody to both care about our plight and have the capacity to remember it's happening. So we sent our cybertulpa to the Red Lord's Arms where it blew the fucker's head clean off, trapping what was left of him in the Projects. We had our battery… until you stole it from us."</p> <p>"Ohhhh." Quinn was suddenly nodding. "I get it. You were going to use his superprojected ghost to power your ridiculous cyberthing."</p> <p>"That ridiculous cyberthing," the figure said quietly, "is the only way we're ever going to have identities of our own that stick. The only way we can remake ourselves. Our bodies and projections are completely scoured of every inch of personality, every identifier, everything that makes a person persistent. We remember who we are inside, but we can't pass that on to anyone. No reproductive capacity whatsoever. We're a dead people unless we do this."</p> <p>"What if someone calls the spirit back to Earth?" Quinn asked. "Just like I did?"</p> <p>"They won't," the figure declared grimly. "We've almost finished constructing a psychic interdiction shield for Empty Acres. Once we turn it on, there's no coming in and no going back. Finality. But we need that ghost to make any of this work. We're not going to sacrifice any more of our souls, and anyway we're all too weak and weary to give it much charge at this point. We used up the last of our stored-up energy sending that second tulpa to retrieve the ghost."</p> <p>"Then we're going to get it back for you," Tonya proclaimed. "Right?"</p> <p>Quinn squirmed. "I mean… I don't really see how? We're stuck in here, just like them. Driscoll won't ever wake us up, and since we went into The Divot I'm sure everyone outside has already forgotten to come looking for us. I guess there's always Eva, but I'm not sure how we'd send her… a message…"</p> <p>The bright expression on Tonya's face matched her own. "Now you're talking. Why come all the way to the digital shore if we're not going to wade out?" Tonya turned to face the figure again. "We're going to need you to upload us to the Metaphysiverse."</p> <p>Their guide sat down in the chair, attaching the leads to his pale grey skin while they took their positions on a pair of shiny white pads. The surface was cool, thrumming with energy. Karen couldn't believe she was doing this. This wasn't why she'd gone to business school.</p> <p>This was much, much more exciting than business school.</p> <p>"What do we have to do?" Quinn asked.</p> <p>"Just carry out the plan you outlined," the figure said as he finished attaching the device to his body. He'd assured them he had enough energy to send them both to the empty simulation without killing his spirit, however exhausted he already sounded. "I gave you the best directions I can. Remember that you're operating on CPU cycle time there, so hours in the sim will be seconds in the real and surreal worlds, and it'll take days to get your proper bearings. The universe is too complex for a one-to-one conversion, and you'll have to give your brains a while to adjust to the translation."</p> <p>"That's not what I mean," said Quinn. "I mean do we have to hold hands, or meditate, or focus on</p> <div class="metaphysiverse"> <p>Quinn Law's avatar was gilt-edged red, pulsating with raw power. It was shorter than Karen's but visibly stronger, glowing brighter, its ruby core thrumming with energy. It regarded Karen's avatar with an awe not unlike what she herself was feeling, and said <Jesus Christ, look at <em>you.</em>></p> <p>Karen looked at her avatar. She was lithe and golden, a constellation of flowing curves. Not much had changed, by her reckoning. She smiled. <Now what?></p> <p><Now we find the lines.> Quinn blinked, and the universe began. The universe was an undulating field of green grass and running streams of blue water, white Greek columns lining the shore to light their way in the dark. The stars in the sky were static — not unmoving, but actual static, the I/O flash of white to black to white again.</p> <p>They started to walk.</p> <p><Why did you insist on coming with me?> Quinn asked as they reached the first column. She dipped her toes into the stream. The water was warm.</p> <p><When?> Karen asked, pressing one hand against the column. The stone was unnaturally smooth, and cool to the touch.</p> <p><Every time.> There were fish in the water. They were nothing like real fish. <At the apartment. At the shop. To The Divot. To the Astral Projects. To whatever this place is.></p> <p>Karen considered as they made their way down the rillside path. <Because I didn't care,> she said, <when Vollan died. I hardly even thought about it. And I thought that maybe, if I made the effort, I could care about whether you lived. It was a likely enough experiment.></p> <p>Quinn laughed. Her voice was rich and deep, not particularly feminine, strong and assured. It was the strength inside of her, her spirit, the essence of her light body translated into the purest manifestation of who she really was. More than a human being, a human ideal. Ideals, plural. The both of them. <You're into experiments now?> She took Karen's hand again. <I thought you seemed set in your ways.></p> <p>Karen saw it now, the lines in the sand of the widening beach. They glowed a deep, satisfying red, like the red warmth of Quinn Law beside her. The map of the world underlaid below this one, overlaid on the one even farther below. Before long, they would glimpse through each layer. They would acclimatize, they would trace the threads to their end, they would send out their message, and descend.</p> <p>But not yet.</p> <p><Are you trying to talk me to death?> Karen asked, and the crimson glow enveloped her in its arms, and they sank into the sand together.</p> </div> <p>"Is that normal?" Eva asked.</p> <p>Driscoll stirred. "Is what normal?"</p> <p>She pointed. Both Quinn and Tonya were periodically twitching, the corners of their mouths turning upward, their breathing coming in bursts. Each fit lasted no more than an instant, then they settled back to rest again.</p> <p>He shrugged. "Probably nothing." He checked his watch.</p> <div class="metaphysiverse"> <p>Arm in arm they passed through the silica desert, each grain reflecting the endless chaos of background radiation above, following the lines beneath the lines. They could see it all now, spread out before them. The map of everything. Creations interleaved. They could see the dirty rent in the ground where the clumsy cybertulpa had drilled down through the electrical, spiritual and physical realms to deliver Rikard Vollan's penultimate sentence. They could see the flare in the night that was ICSUT. They could see the curious welt in reality surrounding Eva McDoyle, alias Twisted Twirly, the impossible woman who Quinn…</p> <p>…Quinn didn't really know what to think anymore. What she wanted.</p> <p>"It doesn't matter." Tonya squeezed her hip. "What happens to us doesn't matter. We need to help them. All of them."</p> <p>"And after that?" Quinn's red glow enveloped them both, Tonya's gold melting into the gilded edges in perfect sync. "Now that we understand each other. Now that there's no secrets…"</p> <p>"No secrets," Tonya murmured. She looked away.</p> <p>"I could set you up with a place in Eva's apartment," Quinn found herself saying. "You could get work with the local government, or even the bureau. Anything but the skippers," she laughed.</p> <p>Tonya slipped away from her, jaw suddenly set, and reached down into the sand to execute their plan.</p> <p>To send the message.</p> <p>Quinn reached out to stop her, to claim another instant in her unadulterated company. What could another moment in this timeless void hurt?</p> <p>Or one moment more?</p> </div> <p>Eva's phone buzzed. She yawned, and fished it out of her back pocket with extreme difficulty. She caught Driscoll watching, and smirked.</p> <p>It was a text from an unlisted number. It contained instructions.</p> <p>The instructions were, in a word, surprising.</p> <p>She took a deep breath, deleted the text, and said: "I know everything."</p> <p>Driscoll looked up from where he was taking the unconscious programmer's vitals, and frowned. "Everything about what?"</p> <p>"About <em>you.</em>" Eva stood, feeling pins and needles in her legs. She really should have gotten up to walk around more, but she was too worried to leave Quinn's side. These pants were absolute murder, too. "I know you were working with Vollan, and I'm going to report you to the UIU."</p> <p>The man looked pained. "That's a damn shame. I was hoping you'd accept that they were lost, and I could go back to the company and tell them the mess was settled." He sighed. "I'm really sorry about this, Miss McDoyle, but you'll eventually realize I had no choice. You'll have a lot of time to think about it."</p> <p>Her heart raced as he raised his hands in the air, his eyes unfocused as they met hers. She felt a sudden drowsiness overtaking her as the mesmerization took hold. She slouched toward the door, putting Vollan's ghost between them as the pusher made his move.</p> <p>She didn't say anything clever as the light enveloped the room, as the bracelet on her ankle glowed like a miniature sun, as the push backfired and the UIU agent passed out, banging his head roughly against the wall, as the ghost raised its hands in one final soundless protest before disappearing in a flash.</p> <p>She didn't feel smug about winning. She felt bad that they both had to lose.</p> <p>But they did both have to lose.</p> <p>Karen was subjected to a torment the likes of which she had never before felt. Her body burned, and on instinct she forced certain of her muscles into action, and the burning was relieved as a coolness spread throughout her core. She did it again, and again, and again and again and again, and she realized she was breathing, that she <em>needed</em> to breathe, and then the oxygen hit her brain and all the extraneous sensory data came with it and she fell to the floor of the server room, and retched.</p> <p>Blind, panicked, she reached out and took Quinn's hand. It was there. Quinn was there. She opened her eyes, and looked at Quinn.</p> <p>The real Quinn, not her idealized form, the ghost of the woman she'd shared one of the worst and most fascinating days of her life with, not the being of pure and startling intent who'd shared so much more with her over the course of what felt like and probably had been whole weeks of abstract exploration.</p> <p>She let go the other woman's hand, and felt a coldness settling over her heart as it tried frantically to remember how to beat of its own volition.</p> <p>"Did we do it?" Quinn's voice was hoarse. Karen wondered if it were possible for a spirit to really experience these physical pains, or if their minds had worn themselves into such deep ruts over decades of existence that they couldn't process the trauma of devolution in any other way than the mock-physical. "Did it work?"</p> <p>"It worked." The voice of the masculine figure was like a memory from the long-distant past. Karen looked up, then sat up, and saw for the first time the glowing form sitting in the seat of power.</p> <p>It wasn't the figure from before. The figure was standing beside it, looking down on them with faceless benevolence.</p> <p>The chair was occupied by the spectral ghost of Rikard Vollan, shuddering in its restraints, head still absent, covered in leads. The server stacks were glowing bright. The capacitors flashed in the dark.</p> <p>Quinn reached for Karen's hand again.</p> <p>Karen stood up without allowing it. Her legs were shaky, but they held. "Driscoll?"</p> <p>"In custody. He's very upset."</p> <p>"I'll bet he is." Quinn stood as well, glancing curiously up at Karen. "I never told him about the ankle bracelet charm."</p> <p>Eva McDoyle had died a wanted outlaw, and though Quinn had explained the circumstances of her revival to the UIU, she'd only been able to secure her friend a sort of spectral probation. The charm prevented her from moving beyond the bounds of Three Portlands, whether physically or spiritually. Driscoll had tipped his hand with that offhand comment about wiping her out entirely; Quinn had suspected he'd try it if he felt his position had been compromised, and apparently she'd been right. The backlash had blasted both him and his employer into the Astral Projects, and the landlords were absentee no longer.</p> <p>"Where is he?" Karen asked.</p> <p>"Decommissioning the golem." The figure sighed in obvious satisfaction. "He's agreed to our terms. All the kidnapped programmers will be released unharmed, and then he will release you, and then we will reconfigure the interdiction field to allow him to release himself, once we have confirmation that all is well Earthside."</p> <p>"And then?" Quinn pressed. "You're going to go through with the upload?"</p> <p>"Of course." The figure might have been smiling. "It's a world of possibility out there, and nothing but emptiness behind."</p> <p>Karen pursed her lips.</p> <p>"What's wrong?" Quinn asked.</p> <p>"Ask me again when we get back home," she said. "Leave the hope here, where it can do some real good."</p> <p>The first thing Quinn did when she woke up for real was reach out and smack Ethan Driscoll in his senseless face. Then she socked him in the jaw. Then she burst into tears, and felt someone pull her into a soft embrace. She knew by the smell who it was. It was Eva.</p> <p>"Not many people get a second chance at life, you know," she cooed teasingly.</p> <p>Quinn laughed. It came with tears.</p> <p>Tonya sat up slowly, her face a mask of composure. "You'll want to report back to the bureau," she said. Her voice was cold again, as though the events of the day had never even occurred.</p> <p>"Yes…" Quinn stared at the woman she'd come to know very well over seemingly endless milliseconds of surreal time. "I'll have to tell them to come pick up the programmers, and it's going to be a bitch arranging that what, with the Divot and all. Then I'll have to tell them we're in contact with a new plane of existence, and acknowledge that its residents have custody over Vollan's light body, which isn't gonna be easy. The Nornir are definitely gonna be pissed, but maybe you can help smooth that over?"</p> <p>"No." Tonya smoothed out her dress, and adjusted her glasses. "No, I'm afraid I can't. I lied to you, Agent Law. I'm not a member of the Global Occult Coalition, and my name isn't Tonya de Leoncourt."</p> <p>She made eye contact with Quinn. Eva was looking back and forth between them, confused. Quinn felt like she'd just transitioned from yet another layer of reality to a new, darker, colder, far less friendly one.</p> <p>"You're a skipper," she said suddenly. "You're a <em>fucking</em> skipper."</p> <p>"My name is Dr. Karen Elstrom," the skipper said. "I'm Level 3 administrative personnel at Lake Huron Research and Containment Site-43, and it's my duty to inform you that the SCP Foundation having had personnel on the metaphorical ground during first contact with the residents of the Metaphysiverse, we will of course require representation at any and all negotiations of sovereign reality status as defined by Codicil 3 of the Multi-Foundation Pact of 1981, to which all known iterations of the Unusual Incidents Unit are signatory."</p> <p>Quinn could barely croak out a response as the blood ran away from her brain. She couldn't understand what was happening, and her own reaction made even less sense. She should have been furious. She should have been distraught. Instead she felt empty, except where Eva was still gently brushing the hair from her face, a touch as light and gentle as summer rain.</p> <p>"Did you enjoy our date?" she finally managed, the words cutting her on the way out. Eva didn't react at all.</p> <p>"I prefer men," the skipper responded. Her blue eyes seemed almost grey in the dim light. "I apologize if you feel misled. I try to keep an open mind."</p> <p>"So noted, Dr. Elstrom," Quinn heard her own voice mutter. "I can handle the investigation from here."</p> <p>Tonya, Karen, the other woman looked like she had something else to say.</p> <p>She turned smartly on her heel, and didn't say it.</p> <p>Karen glanced over the report in the familiar discomfort of her office chair. On recovering from her wounds Frau der Streich had explained that she had indeed sicced the cybertulpa on Vollan at her shop, the astral exiles having reached out to her for help just moments after the women walked in with the object of its hunt. She'd only defaulted to helping her despised employer when the attack had failed. On weighing the evidence the city council had decided to banish her from Three Portlands with no further criminal charges; an inveterate opportunist, she was expected to set up a new practice in La Rue Macabre before long. Ethan Driscoll had been given a life sentence in Paramax for spiritual genocide, and Rikard Vollan was serving out a similar sentence in the Astral Projects under the <em>in absentia</em> care of the First Theosophical Metaphysiverse. They had promised to leave a single cybertulpa behind to make sure he was comfortable while enabling the existence of their sovereign state for the rest of his natural life, which was expected to last until humanity itself winked out of existence at some far-flung moment in the future, at which point they would likely have worked out a more ethical power source. It was quite possibly the single worst fate Karen could imagine, and she couldn't quite bring herself to feel very badly about it.</p> <p>She had inquired, against her better judgement, on the status of Quinn Law and Eva McDoyle.</p> <p>She had been politely informed by the UIU's liaison office that there was no obvious reason why she should require this information, and as such no response would be forthcoming.</p> <p>She had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to decide if she disagreed with that assessment.</p> <p>She spent the evening alone in her dormitory room with a glass of red wine and a battered old copy of the complete works of Coleridge, trying to decide if she'd done the right thing.</p> <p>She spent the night trying to meditate, found she could not, and thought about why that might be.</p> <p>On the following day Karen Elstrom, a woman of exceptional mental control, consciously avoided thinking about anything much at all.</p> <p>She kept the taser.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>For an alternate take, see <a href="/uiu-file-2024-092">The SAINT SEBASTIAN SLASHER</a> by <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=1735343911" 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>!</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="/transposthumousism">Transposthumousism</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/transposthumousism">https://scpwiki.com/transposthumousism</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;"> <p>This article contains a quotation from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1834, in the public domain.</p> <p>This article contains a quotation from [[[Spellbound and Hellbound]] by <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=1735343911" 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>, released under CC BY-SA 3.0.</p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> 3Portsterisk.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zhange" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2938475); return false;"><img alt="Zhange" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2938475&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735343911" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2938475)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/zhange" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2938475); return false;">Zhange</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a> fade=a]] [[module css]] .metaphysiverse { font-size: 12pt; font-family: courier [[/module]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[=]] + Transposthumousism @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ + ##990011\|2008## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]The Red Lord's Arms: Three Portlands[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- //I don't hate this man.// Karen Elstrom, a woman of exceptional mental control, consciously avoided ending that thought with the word 'yet'. //No point being defeatist on a first date.// The man she didn't hate was a picture of distinction. Neat blonde moustache, tailored midnight blue suit, eggplant cravat -- even the words were a delight to combine -- and an honest-to-god carnation in his lapel. As though he could read her mind and sense the unaccustomed positivity, he flashed a dazzling white smile. Not a grin; he would never have gotten her in the door were he the grinning sort. "I knew I'd seen you before," he drawled in that way only the truly wealthy could afford. "The Cameron Constantine exhibition at the Museum of Establishment Anart. February, wasn't it?" He pronounced the first 'r' in February. Karen's heart swelled, and for a moment she wondered if the Red Lord's Arms had chosen to again violate local ordinances by playing aphrodisiac madrigals... no, they were instead piping in Ravel's //Bolero,// which was racy but not anomalously so. The UIU had threatened to shut down the expatriate Alagaddan bistro if it hosted another spontaneous orgy, and the playing of //Catallus 16 for Concupiscent Voice Choir// had been banned across Three Portlands. It was definitely the pronunciation arousing her. He was still talking. "What was it called? 'Perfection in 4D', I think. Yes." She leaned in, left hand sliding smoothly beneath her right elbow as she cupped her face and favoured him with her best alluring smile. Not for nothing had she once practiced seductive glances over the top of her eyeglasses in the mirror. "I don't see much anart in my line. Security concerns. Unless you think I moonlight as a model?" His laugh was rich as stained mahogany. "It's a crime against art and artists if you don't. But no, that isn't what I mean. Constantine's exhibit was a physical, living timelapse of ideal forms in nude, shifting effortlessly from pose to perfect pose, each figure reflecting the viewer's personal standard for beauty and grace. In appearance and demeanour, you could have been mine." She could think of three ways to respond to this. If her goal for the evening was to secure a genuine emotional connection with another human being, she could leave immediately and find someone capable of forming such a thing. If she wanted to gain the upper hand in this interaction, prolong the delightful dance, she could exploit his choice of words to assert that she belonged only to herself. If after the private matinee screening of Zombie Tarkovsky's unreleased new Marvel movie and the five hundred dollar meal of Nevermeant blood oyster and Anantasheshan caviar he had paid for with cash, however, she felt he had paid the entrance fee... "As a means of separating me from my dress, that's quite novel." She quirked an eyebrow. He chuckled sedately as his head exploded. Under the table, Karen blinked. There was something hot and painful in her eyes, and she wiped it off with the backside of the expensive table cloth. Training and instinct had put her on the floor in one hot second, and only now was she operating off autopilot. She glanced down, eyes still burning from the salt of her date's blood, and confirmed that her dress was unstained. Then she gently, oh so gently, lifted the edge of the cloth to take in the scene. The Red Lord's Arms was a picture of absolute chaos, on a typical night. Being one of the most desirable high end restaurants in an anomalous free port didn't mean black tie and cocktail dress clientele. There were occultists -- several of these were chanting, and one was trying to pry open a salt shaker for the purpose of pouring a protective circle; there were madmen -- most of these were screaming or laughing as tables upended and the air was filled with a heavy, strangely hollow clanking sound; there were mad scientists, and one of them, a long-haired lunatic in a white smock, was hefting a gun which looked like it had been designed for anti-tank use in some far flung grimdark future. If that had been the weapon which killed her date... //My date is dead.// ...then a lot more than the man's head would have atomized. Probably only the table would have survived; they built things to last against centuries of serious revelry in the Sanguine Quarter of Alagadda. No, she realized, the would-be supervillain wasn't pointing the gun at her table. He was pointing it at the chunky, transparent walking dumpster which was moving through the dining room like a linebacker, scattering patrons and furniture and exotic food in every direction. The gun made a surprisingly pathetic //pop// when it fired, though the recoil sent the man flying into a wine cabinet filled with vintages of suspect provenance and the projectile, a ball of glowing red plasma, sailed neatly through the robot ghost like it wasn't really there and essentially deleted the restaurant's north wall. The scene was now open to the street, and the attacker took this opportunity to exit stage right. It galloped onto the sidewalk, took a flying leap notable for its unlikely grace, struck an electrical pole, shimmered and disappeared with a much more satisfying crash of thunder. It occurred to Karen that there was absolutely no way she could afford to pay for the meal herself. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Quinn pulled her badge out of her UIU windbreaker and presented it to the agent in charge, a stocky astral projector named Driscoll she knew only passingly. "[[[/quinn-law-hub \| Quinn Law]]]." To his credit, the man accepted this as her name and walked her in. "Thanks for the quick assist. Got a real nasty one here." She nodded as they walked through the ruins of the restaurant. Quinn was surprised to feel a light breeze, and see sunlight. She was even more surprised when they entered the dining room, and she could see why. No wonder the streets surrounding the Red Lord's Arms had all been cordoned off. "Was already in the neighbourhod, uh..." She wasn't sure how to finish that thought without opening herself up to unwanted questions, not that Driscoll was likely to ask them right now, so she let it die on the ellipsis and changed tack. "How nasty we talking? Enough to need a necromancer, obviously, but why? I hear people die in this joint all the time." The agent snorted in good humour. "Yeah, but it's supposed to be the food that kills you. This fella took an expanding round in the head, and if it's all the same to you I'd like to ask him why." The fella in question was still sitting at his table, //sans// everything above the neckerchief. There was blood everywhere, and brain matter, and bits of skull, and what looked like very expensive bone china. Alagaddan bone china, she'd read somewhere, was legally required to be glazed three times over to prevent the material seeping out into the food. The bone was, to put it mildly, unethically sourced. "Friend of yours?" she asked, just to lighten the mood a bit. "Could say that," Driscoll sighed. "GOC bigwig from out of town. We were supposed to be protecting him." "Oh." That explained all the security outside. If the UIU had screwed up large, they wouldn't want anyone seeing it. UIUseless was the dominant narrative outside of Three Portlands, but here they were the law, and most people were happy to consider them good at what they did. "Can I ask why it didn't work out?" Driscoll grunted. "A giant see-through box monster came out of nowhere and popped his top, then vanished. Seems like a tech thing, but you know, we're hurting for tech people right now." Quinn did know this. There was a notable shortage of programmers throughout Three Portlands, had been for months. Word on the street was the skippers were hiring for some top-secret project, scooping up the best and leaving the worst to work electronic forensics for the UIU. One more reason to hate them. "Nobody saw that coming? And it got through our security screen? How does a thing like that happen?" "OPR thinks there's a leak." Quinn's stomach sank. If the Office of Professional Responsibility was involved, this case was going to be a headache. Better to get her part over and done with, and get out. She'd been looking forward to this evening all week, and was itching all over to... she cleared her throat. "Okay. You want me to call the guy up?" "In a minute. How are you with interrogation? We've got a witness, but she's... let's call her uncooperative." He gestured at the bar across the splintered battlefield. "Maybe you'll get lucky." //In my dreams,// she thought. //Wow.// Only a corpse with an exploded head could have distracted her from the woman at the bar. She had long legs and long honey-blonde hair, ruby lips and a profile that didn't take no for an answer when it sought out the manager to make a complaint. She was wearing an electric blue dress and a look of utter contempt for everything around her, sitting just //so// as though someone was painting her portrait. Not for the first time in the past month, Quinn wondered if the universe was trying to send her a message. She nodded Driscoll, and headed over to the bar. "Ma'am? I'd like to... ask you a few questions." She'd hesitated because the woman had turned to glare at her, and her throat had dried up all at once. The goddess of angry librarians had bright blue eyes, and they flashed with righteous indignation. Her neck tilted back, emphasizing the height difference, and when she spoke the air between them all but frosted. "I already told //him,//" and she pointed accusatorily with the air of a jilted supermodel, "that I won't give a statement without my attorney present." Quinn shrugged. There was only one way to play this game. "Okay. I'll ask your client, then, when I summon him. Hope your agency retains one of the really expensive lawyers." The woman's nostrils flared magnificently, and Quinn realized she had made a critical error. "Agency. //Agency.// Please explain what you meant by that." "Uh..." That piercing gaze really was something. "I'm sorry, I must have... okay. What was your relationship to the deceased?" "Meaning am I his professional //escort?//" The woman stepped primly off her stool, heels clacking on the hundred century oak floorboards. "I'll have you know I represent the Office of the Undersecretary General of the Global Occult Coalition, and what Mr. Vollan and I do of an evening is no concern of the UIU." Quinn rallied, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "It is when someone blows his head off in our burg, miss...?" "de Leoncourt," the woman snapped, looking every inch of it. "Tonya de Leoncourt. I'm in your system. You have no reason to detain me." "If you're sick of being detained, you could try just answering the questions so we can get on with our work. Did you see the killer?" "Yes. It was some sort of eldritch homunculus, blocky and mechanical-looking. I didn't see the weapon it used, but an entire restaurant of people saw what it looked like. It demanifested into the power lines. Your friend over there tells me no one's ever seen anything like it. I certainly haven't." She said this as though she //had// seen quite a lot, and therefore the lack of recognition was meaningful. Quinn filed this away for later. "What was... Mr. Vollan, did you say? What was he doing in Three Ports?" Tonya snorted. "They really don't tell you people anything, do they? He was attending to business. Private business." Something in the way the woman's eyes narrowed... "You don't know, huh? It's okay to admit it." Tonya looked away. Quinn marvelled at the sharpness of her chin. "It would have been rude to pry. He's attached to the Silicon Nornir, and you know how secretive they are." "Right," Quinn suddenly found herself grinning. She couldn't quite see her way to imagining this woman backing down from a group of Scandinavian programmers. "And of course you aren't the rude sort. Do you know why someone might have wanted to do him harm?" Tonya idly flipped a lock of hair that hadn't done anything in particular to deserve it, and angled her head just //so.// "He's highly-placed in PSYCHE. He does diplomatic work. Any number of groups might have wanted him dead." "Was this your first date?" That blue fire glare swung her way again. "Why is that any business of yours?" "Just wondering whether you know him well enough to tell me anything useful, or we're just bantering as a blood sport for the joy of it." The red lips twitched, just once. The woman didn't answer. Without knowing why she did it, Quinn asked: "Would you like to witness the summoning? It, uh... might be easier if there's someone around he knows. Might be more willing to talk to you than me." Tonya shrugged, the expensive dress rippling expensively. "Whatever. Just don't take your time, because you're taking mine too." They walked back to the table, Quinn's itchy sensation worsening by the second. The other agent offered her a look of knowing, if misplaced, sympathy. "Ready?" "Ready enough." Quinn examined the wreckage. "Plenty of reagents, ah, //locally sourced// as it were. Should be able to work the circle up pretty quick." She gloved up, then bundled everything in the tablecloth and deposited it beside the table. "Won't take but a jiffy." "Are you trying to talk us to death?" Tonya asked. Quinn suppressed the urge to respond as she covered the table with a fresh sheet and set to the task at hand. A few minutes later, the gory work was complete. She spoke the words and performed the gestures which would usher the dead man back across the border between this world and whichever one of the next his spirit had chosen, or been forced into, and the visceral sigil shone electric blue and roiled like a living thing. Droplets of blood extracted themselves from the red fabric and hovered in mid-air, the organs pulsed and the bone fragments ground themselves to dust as the light in the room dimmed down in occult disregard of the setting sun outside. A silhouette of white appeared atop the table, so bright they couldn't look directly at it, and it immediately began waving its arms in blind panic. Quinn finished her chant, and the light died down abruptly, and they all got a good look at what she'd brought back. The immaculately-dressed ghost was missing its head. "Okay." Driscoll scratched his jaw. "I don't... that's not a whole lot more useful than what we had already, to be honest." The headless ghost flailed wildly, stepped on its own entrails, slipped, and fell off the table. "I take it this wasn't the result you were aiming for," Tonya remarked mildly. "I don't get it." Quinn shook her head as the apparition staggered back to its feet. "This isn't... anything. This isn't how it //works.// At all. Nobody's self-image lacks a head." "Maybe he didn't really want to come back," Driscoll suggested. "Didn't have his head in the game, you mean?" Quinn was startled to hear the words, and glanced appreciatively at Tonya. The other woman didn't appear to notice. "Or maybe she's not very good at this." Quinn was torn between wanting to spar with the elegant snotbag and needing to know what had gone so terribly wrong with her summoning spell. The ghost grasped at the stump of its neck, then tried to feel for its missing face, then paused and reached out for its surroundings like a man searching for a light switch in the dark. Tonya sighed. "This is grotesque. Give the man back his dignity, would you?" At the sound of her voice, the ghost suddenly lunched in her direction. The woman neatly sidestepped, and one of the only tables in the bistro remaining upright was upset by the resultant crash. "Maybe he knows sign language," Driscoll suggested gamely. He pulled Quinn aside. "Seriously though, this is obviously a bust. We're going to have a hard time detaining Lady de Whatever, but I don't like cutting her loose with a killer at large, and I //really// don't like the idea of keeping her in custody if someone in the bureau is in on whatever happened. I'd like you to dismiss the stiff, then take the witness someplace secure." Quinn frowned. "Like, a safehouse you mean?" He shook his head. "No. Let's not tap any bureau resources until we know our shit is squared. You said you were already in the neighbourhood when the call came, didn't you?" She gulped, and hoped it wasn't audible. "Yeah, but... I mean..." She sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can take her back to my... I can take her //someplace.// You want us to sit tight there, or...?" "If you think of any avenues, or the witness gives you a lead, call it in before heading back out. Her safety is your priority, but we do want to make progress on this thing but fast. It's gonna be an evolving situation and the GOC is going to be a right pain in our asses the whole time, no doubt." "They've already started." Quinn watched the imperious Tonya striking a pose by the summoning table for no apparent reason, one leg bent like a freeze-framed ballerina. Driscoll clapped her on the shoulder. "Your government thanks you." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Karen watched with increasing impatience as the flustered necromancer attempted to release the spirit of Rikard Vollan. They were both frantically waving their arms at each other, Quinn Law -- which couldn't be her real name, but Karen could hardly fault her for that given the circumstances -- switching fluently between a host of occult dead languages to absolutely no avail. "I believe I would like to end this date," Karen announced. "I have decided not to invite him home." The necromancer grimaced at her. "I can't grok his deal. I swear I know what I'm doing, he shouldn't still be hanging around." "He ought to have a head, too. I take it this is your first day on the job?" The grimace evolved into a glower. "You want to talk about being //on the job//, dressed like you are?" Karen suppressed a genuine smile as Driscoll tapped Quinn on the shoulder. "Hey, dial it down. The whole point here is to //not// make a scene. Just get her out of here, and we'll handle the ghost. Alright? Alright." This obviously didn't sit well with the necromancer, who struck Karen as the kind of woman who prided herself on the quality of her work. This was relatable. "Fine. Okay. Well, once I've got her safe and sound, I can swing back and--" "Nah. Don't worry about it. This town is lousy with occultists, we've even got a few detained outside as witnesses. But the crowd's getting thick out there, so..." Quinn finally surrendered to the facts, and headed for the door. "Come on, Tonya. It's a short walk, even in heels." "I've run marathons in heels." Karen jabbed Driscoll in the chest with one long finger. "Purse." He shook his head, wincing as though expecting a sudden slap. "Sorry, ma'am. Evidence." Karen stretched to her full height, which put their eyes about even, and lowered her voice half an octave. "How many dead GOC representatives would you like on your record today, agent?" He blinked. "I would've preferred zero, but failing that--" "One. Right. Well there's pepper spray in my purse, and if you'd be so //generous// as to let me have it, I'll see what I can do on that score." He chewed on that for a moment, then shook his head. "No can do, ma'am. Regs are regs." "Oh, for crying out loud." Quinn reached into her windbreaker and pulled out a small black pistol with a bright yellow barrel, which she passed to Karen who accepted it without comment. "A consolation gift for your blown date." Karen angled the bottom of her jawline at Driscoll as a means of taking her leave, then took one final look at her date's corpse. She'd rather liked the cravat, pretentious though it was... As she turned to follow Quinn, she heard the other agent utter a frustrated exclamation. Both women turned around. The ghost was following Karen. "No." Quinn waved her arms like she was shooing a cat. "//No.// Piss off. Away with ye. //Abito. Éfyge. Dh' fhalbh.//" The ghost regarded her with expressionless disinterest, not that it had a lot of options in that regard. Karen took a step backward in Quinn's direction, and the spectre clumsily mimicked the motion. "Fuck," she muttered. "Agreed." Quinn glanced around the restaurant. "There a back alley exit to this place? Gotta be, right?" Driscoll nodded. "Though the kitchen." "Right. The flat's on the alley network, we can cut through there. Obviously don't wanna trail a headless ghost through Three Ports in rush hour traffic, we won't make it ten feet before someone wants their picture taken with him. Call in a cordon around 51 Darcelle? Use the road work cover, just needs to hold for half an hour 'til we're in the front door." He nodded again. Quinn turned to face Karen. "One foot in front of the other, and try not to look behind you." "Mm. 'Like one that on a lonesome road doth walk in fear and dread'," Karen agreed. The necromancer blinked. "'Because she knows a frightful fiend doth close behind her tread'. Coleridge or //Frankenstein?//" "Yes." "Huh." Again the other woman wasted a moment favouring her with an appraising look, then headed for the back of the restaurant. Karen kept pace, the ghost trailing in her train. "So, what do you do at the GOC?" Quinn asked conversationally as they exited into a long, dingy corridor between brick structures. "Vollan seems like a big deal. You work with him?" Karen noted she was using this casual banter to soften the sight of drawing her service weapon, pointing it at the filthy alley floor. Karen flexed her fingers over the taser's rubber grip, and shook her head. "That's my business. Were you going to shoot me if you didn't like the answer?" "You're certainly very shootable. It's entirely possible that whoever killed Vollan was aiming at you." This time Karen did smile. "Thank you. I do try." One red eyebrow raised. "You put a lot into this performance, don't you? Some of it's got to be automated, the hellion routine is way too smooth to be completely conscious. You'd have trouble remembering to breathe." "Think of it as weight training." Karen pursed her lips. From time to time the necromancer stopped walking to peer around a corner, or listen to the wind in the eaves, and sometimes when she turned back to glance at Karen she was even smiling a little. Sensing she'd lost the initiative, slipping from intimidating to entertainingly prickly, Karen dedicated a small corner of her mind to thinking up something really vicious to say about Quinn's ripped jeans or the occult tattoos on the backs of her hands. They walked in silence for a while, so silent that Karen fancied she could hear the ghost gesticulating frantically behind her... "Why is he still solid?" she asked suddenly. Quinn glanced back at Vollan. "Probably he's got some experience with astral projection. He should be able to go intangible if he wants to. Guess he lacks the presence of mind to figure that out right now." She smirked guiltily, and opened her mouth to follow up and likely worsen this statement. Karen interrupted her. "He lost his presence of mind honestly." This time the other woman actually flushed with pleasure. //Oh dear.// Karen pondered the awkwardness of her situation. The GOC would confirm her cover story as a diplomatic favour; high-clearance Foundation personnel weren't meant to visit Free Ports without an escort, and occluding her identity had been the only way she could get permission for this date. She'd met Vollan at a summit late last year, traded pleasantries and phone numbers as the chattering set did, and had been surprised to receive his offer of dinner and a movie //gratis//. With plenty of personal time saved up and synergistic weaknesses for fine dining and high art, she'd accepted. As always whenever she indulged in personal gratification, it had backfired spectacularly. An empty street became visible up ahead. There was a man with long, droopy rabbit ears slumped against the lefthand wall, asleep. He was clutching a sign that read JUST NEED THREE MORE NAMES TO GET HOME. BLESS. Quinn palmed a notepad and took a quick note before moving on. "Where are you taking me?" The agent hesitated before answering. "To meet a friend of mine, I guess." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Quinn's 'friend' was socked away in a crumbling but still respectable brownstone on Darcelle Street. The landlord had owed her a favour for the thing with the killer contracts a few months back, and she'd been able to secure a very reasonable rate for a three room flat on the fifth floor. The street was empty when they emerged from the alley, UIU auto-rickshaws blocking both ends while a few agents in construction wear milled about and tried to look a different variety of blue collar. Nobody saw them lead their spectral companion in the front door. Quinn ushered Tonya through first, then waved off the nearest agent before entering herself. "This is where you live?" the other woman sniffed with obvious disdain. Quinn already knew enough to suspect at least some of the disdain was affected, probably the obvious part. "No." Quinn punched the elevator's call button. "But I've been spending a lot of time here, uh... it's secure." She willed her face not to turn red. "No doubt. What self-respecting assassin would catch someone dead in a place like this?" Tonya transitioned from one obnoxious pose to another. Quinn almost expected to see a camera flash. The elevator arrived. The ghost didn't follow them in until the doors closed, at which point it walked straight through them. Quinn sighed. "Looks like he's figuring it out." "Good," Tonya nodded. "I'm glad the date hasn't been a total wash for him, like it has for me." On the fifth floor, Quinn fumbled awkwardly with her keychain. "Look. If you could maybe not be a total bitch the whole time you're here, I'd appreciate it. This friend of mine--" "--is a euphemism," Tonya agreed with a nod. "For boyfriend. No? Girlfriend, then." Quinn felt her own expression shifting rapidly. "No! No! She's new in... well, she's just //new,// okay, and we're trying things... out... we haven't... while we're getting used to... it's an open..." She nearly passed out from the blood flow to her cheeks. "Okay, fuck off. It's none of your business. Just don't make her angry, she's sort of a serial killer." She had the satisfaction of seeing genuine surprise on the other woman's face as they reached the door. "Your idea of taking me to safety is delivering me to a serial killer?" Quinn unlocked the door, feeling emboldened by Tonya's discomfort. "Just don't mess with her and you'll be fine. She's kind of hardcore." A beautiful blonde woman strolled out of the bedroom as they walked into the apartment, wearing only a faded old UIU t-shirt just long enough to preserve her modesty. She stretched, yawned messily, and said "Hey doll. You get the oil?" Quinn refused to look Tonya in the eye. "Uh. No. Sorry Twirly. Work. Uh. Got in the way." She gestured at Tonya. "Picked this thing up instead." "Oh!" The green-eyed monster looked the new arrival up and down speculatively. "I thought you told me they didn't have chorus girls anymore." Now it was safe to glance up at the other woman, who was of course quietly fuming with a chance of no longer being quiet. "This is actually a very important secret government official, believe it or not. You can see it in the cheekbones if you look real close. Her name is Tonya." Quinn gestured back and forth between them. "Tonya de Leoncourt, meet [[[/scp-7433\|Eva McDoyle]]]." Eva waved. "Hello. I'm her houseghost." Quinn snorted. "She's not actually a ghost. More like a lege--" "Don't care." Tonya walked around the apartment, looking for some form of furniture meeting with her approval and apparently not finding any. "Very very much do not care at all." She cocked her head to one side. "Thoughtform, probably? Concretized? You were going to say 'legend'. Must be a [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/spellbound-and-hellbound\|story there]]]; no, shush." She held up one finger to silence them both. "I didn't say I wanted to hear it. I said the opposite, in point of fact, and I know my diction is clear." "She's nice," Eva remarked cheerfully, reaching down to scratch her ankle. She was wearing a shiny piece of translucent jewellery down there. "Who's your other friend?" "Oh." Quinn glanced back at the headless ghost, now gliding past her to follow Tonya. "Yeah. This, uh, this is the case, I guess. He's..." She waved vaguely. "It is what it is." Eva cocked her head to one side. "Did you raise him?" "Yeah." Quinn felt sheepish. "And you can't get rid of him?" Eva cackled with delight. "Turning into a habit, eh?" Quinn wanted to say something nice like //what makes you think I'd want to get rid of you?// but felt intensely awkward about it with the diva swanning around the room, staring daggers at every stain, streak of dust or item out of place. So she shrugged, smiled in what she hoped was an affectionate way, and nodded. "Does he talk?" "Does he talk? He's not a //parrot.//" Having finished her patrol and found nothing to her liking, Tonya walked back between the two of them. The ghost followed like a lost puppy. "And of course he doesn't talk. He hasn't got a //mouth.//" "I couldn't use mine when we first met," Eva reminded Quinn. "We still found a way." Quinn felt her eyes widen, and nodded. "You think...?" "Can't hurt to try." Eva walked across the living room to the attached kitchenette, and picked up a small portable radio Quinn had bought her. "Let's see." She turned it on, and rolled through the FM dial. Though her mouth was closed, her voice came out of the speaker when she next spoke: "Calling all cars, calling all cars!" Tonya didn't look fazed, and not for the first time Quinn wondered what her line of work really was. "Anybody in here?" Eva's voice crackled along the frequency spectrum, to no avail. The moment she switched to AM, however, she got results. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," a baritone male voice screamed on the radio. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The headless ghost screamed for what felt like an hour but was probably less than a minute. Eva turned the volume down. It waved its arms, and it screamed. It ran circles around Karen, and it screamed. "He's not taking this well," Eva said with her mouth. On the radio she said "Do you know any consonants?" The screaming stopped, and Karen finally recognized Vollan's voice. He hadn't been screaming during their date; they hadn't gotten that far, unfortunately. "What's happening? Why can't I see anything? Where am I?" "You're in a safehouse with a UIU agent." Eva glanced at Quinn, who shrugged. Karen read it crystal clear: //Really?// and //Come on, it's close enough.// "You're... well, you're dead." The ghost cleared its throat, somehow, and began to scream again. "Hey! Asshole! Hey dead asshole!" Quinn snapped her fingers in the air where its nose should have been. "You can hear me, right? I know you can hear me, you heard Tonya back at the bistro. We're going to figure out who did this to you, but you have to get your shit together!" "GET MY SHIT TOGETHER?!" The ghost staggered towards Quinn. "MY HEAD IS GONE, AND IT'S YOUR FUCKING FAULT! UIUSELESS GOT MY SHIT __BLOWN__ __OFF__!" If the missing head hadn't done it, this shift in demeanour would definitely have dampened Karen's earlier ardour. She despised linguistic slovenliness. "Well //sorry,// guy, but I wasn't there!" Now Quinn's arms were in the air too, and they were waving at each other like a Marx Brothers routine. "Maybe we can figure out where the pieces landed! The ghost pieces. Of your ghost head. I know a few mediums we could check out; don't normally need to, but this isn't a normal case and I'm... kinda running out of ideas." She deflated over the course of this speech, arms falling limp at her side. Judging from the way her face twitched, admitting this felt not unlike surrender. Eva placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder. Karen noted the affection, superfluous though the information was. "You're not in danger, are you?" the living legend asked. Quinn shook her head. "No, but this one might be." She inclined her head in Karen's direction. "How about you stay here with her, while I check some leads?" "You're meant to be keeping me safe," Karen snapped. "I don't mean to tell you your business, but my late date is right -- someone needs to, given the recent track record. And the live target seems like it ought to take priority over the dead one." The ghost gave her the middle finger, and Karen knew the romance was truly dead. It didn't matter. She might be pretending to be a GOC notable, but the moment the night had turned anomalous she'd gone back on the clock for the Foundation. She needed to get to the bottom of this as much as the UIU agent did. Quinn exhaled in frustration. "Fine, the three of us will go. Two moms and their ghost baby. You happy now?" "No. I'm not happy about any of this. I want to get out of your ridiculous city. So let's move on." "Can I interject?" It was Vollan again, from the radio. He sounded more subdued. Quinn shrugged. "As long as it's not more screaming." "I have a preference for mediums. Are you familiar with Frau der Streich?" Quinn raised both eyebrows. "Yessssss, but why her specifically? You do know that--" "Yes." The voice was clipped, straining for control. "But this is a search. She's good at searching." "Alright." Quinn shrugged. "That's true enough. I'll get the rickshaw." Eva walked back into the bedroom, returning with a pair of old jeans that didn't fit her. They were too tight, and she squirmed into them over the course of about a minute. Quinn stared the entire time, finally working up the focus to ask: "What are you doing?" "Coming with." Eva tucked the UIU shirt into the jeans and went back to the bedroom again, presumably for some socks. "Last time you had an adventure, I was really lucky to be there at the end." Karen didn't know precisely what the reference was, but she could make an educated guess by the way Quinn's colour rose. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Frau der Streich was a charlatan. Charlatanism was relative in Three Portlands, however. der Streich made a living pretending to be a psychic in a city where you couldn't throw a stone without almost hitting a real one (hitting a real one being impossible, of course), but she wasn't entirely lacking in occult capability. Quinn explained this to them on the ride over, Eva absorbing every detail with adorable attentiveness, the ghost hollering blue murder on the radio -- dialled down to minimum volume, so basically just white noise -- and Tonya pretending to barely listen. Quinn could tell it was pretence by the way the woman's ears perked up when she heard something interesting. "So yeah, she can't read your thoughts." Quinn shut off the engine. "But she //can// do a whole assortment of odd stuff which isn't easy to advertise without attracting criminal attention, so we throw her cases every once in a while to keep her rent paid and her nose clean." Tonya sniffed. "I do prefer cleanliness to squalor, though I'd be surprised to find the former in this neighbourhood." Quinn glanced at the gaudy shop window, which looked as though its owner had suffered a crisis of self-control at a Halloween sale. "Yeah, well. We called it in to Driscoll, so if somebody shivs us at least the bodies won't be lost indefinitely." They exited the vehicle, Vollan's ghost declining to open the door before doing so, and headed in. Some new-age tune jangled in the rafters. The shop was even more over-the-top inside, every visible surface plastered with pseudo-occult paraphernalia. Dozens of censers hung from the ceiling, filling the air with a haze which alternated between every imaginable scent, and Quinn was surprised it didn't catch fire what with all the lit candles strewn about. The Frau herself was dressed like a Roma, and didn't look like one, and didn't look like the sort to care if this caused offence. She was sitting at a small round table holding, what else, a polished crystal ball, and she smiled falsely as they approached. "Agent Law. So good to see you again. I don't suppose you've had time to consider my request?" Quinn sat down across from her while the others milled about. She saw the older woman's eyes narrow slightly at the sight of the headless ghost. "I might make time tomorrow for mulling it over if you make yourself useful today. I've got enough pull to get your familiar released." "Familiar?" Eva was picking at a shelf of souvenir shrunken golem heads with obvious interest. "She's got a pet cat," Quinn explained. "Human level intelligence, because it used to be human. Afterlife insurance salesman on the run from both the SEC and [[[/scp-6987 \| Goldbaker-Reinz]]], turned himself feline to escape prosecution or cross-multiversal obliteration and can't turn himself back." "Hard to light a candle when you're all paws," the Frau smiled nastily. "He never was the foresighted sort. At least his night vision's better now." "We've got him in lockup," Quinn finished, "while we decide who to piss off." "Letting him go would be better for all concerned." The Frau's smile widened; she still had all her teeth, but she'd blacked about half of them out. "Except him, but who cares about that? Took my life savings, drinks out of a bowl and shits in a box now. Karmic balance." "We'll have him shitting in your box again by close of business tomorrow if you help me find this asshole's head." Quinn gestured with one shoulder at where she knew the ghost would be. The Frau frowned. "His spectral head? How did he lose it?" Quinn spread her hands on the table in a gesture of defeat. "Hmm." The Frau tapped her forehead thoughtfully. "What's his name?" "Vollan. Rikard Vollan." "Ah hah." A moment's pause. "Well I can probably swing it, but... not every day I do an ectoplasmic locate. I'll have to look a few things up." "In some ancient, mouldering grimoire no doubt," Tonya muttered behind Quinn's back. She bit back a smile. "Nah." The Frau stuck her hand down into her brassiere, rummaged around a bit, and produced a cellphone. "Google." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Karen and her dead date's ghost stared out of the window, what little there was exposed to stare out of behind the wall of worthless bric-a-brac. Every vista of Three Portlands was like a parody of itself, and this seedy quarter was no exception. A woman parasailed down the street on the leyline winds. Three mimes blocked a teenage couple's path by constructing an invisible wall, pantomiming a promise to take it down if a donation was made. A dog walked a man. She hate hate //hated// this city. The Frau's Google search seemed to be taking forever. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes passed before she finally muttered satisfaction, and asked for Vollan's cell phone. Quinn produced it, and the old woman fussed noisily with a bottle of essential oils and a baby wipe until Karen was sure she was risking electric shock. "I like your dress," Eva said to her. Karen turned around. "Thank you. My last date bought it for me." The cheerful thoughtform smiled and nodded encouragingly. "How did he die?" Karen frowned. "My dates don't always die. In fact, the majority of my dates have been perfectly s--" Eva lunged for her, and Karen had just barely not enough time to bring the taser up and prevent herself from being serial killed before being tackled to the floor as both shop windows, the door, and the wall partitions in between exploded over them. There was heat, there was noise -- much of it shouted -- and there was pain, none of it serious. Scrapes and bumps. The building creaked around her, the floor shook, and she heard a steady hiss of static over Eva's radio beside her. She clutched at the sound, and found the other woman's hand instead. They pulled themselves to their feet as Karen's ears stopped ringing, which she hadn't realized they'd been doing, and the static resolved into Vollan's panicked hollering. He was gone, as was the front of the shop. It hadn't been erased like the side wall of the Red Lord's Arms, merely smashed to scrap and atoms by, presumably, the blocky translucent shape disappearing across the street and down the far sidewalk. Karen craned her neck out the gap, mindful that the second storey could come crashing down on them all at any second, and caught a glimpse of Vollan fleeing from the ghostly golem, arms in the air like he very much cared. Quinn vaulted past her over the windowsill, gun out. It was a very impressive move. She glanced over her shoulder and hissed: "Stay here!" Then she was off into the evening traffic, badge waving. She had to hop onto the hood of a slow-moving hovercar to avoid being bowled over, the owner honking in outrage, and the motion didn't even slow her down. "What a dish," Eva swooned. "We had a jolly-up scheduled for today, and she always gets so energetic when we postpone." "Oh, yes? I think you should tell me all about that, before she comes back." Karen turned to see the Frau edging toward a beaded curtain leading to the back rooms. She froze when she saw Karen looking. "Where do you think you're going?" The old woman shrugged. "Watch her." Karen shook the dust out of her hair, and stepped over the ruined threshold. "Where are you going?" Eva asked. "To save my bodyguard, probably." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] It wasn't easy to keep up with the two ghosts, but she couldn't very easily lose them. Vollan wasn't yet adept enough at being dead to phase through all solid matter in his path, so he tended to take corners instead of cutting them and made a token effort to juke around pedestrians. The big thing -- Quinn mentally labelled it the //ghostlem// -- either couldn't go intangible or didn't see the point, instead scattering citizens and fire hydrants and rickshaws and garbage cans and thaumic scooter charging posts willy-nilly with its speed and bulk, shaving off the corners of the buildings its prey took the long way around. She stopped mentally tallying the cost when it hit seven figures. She had her gun out, and a few times considered taking a shot when the sightline was clear all the way through the target and out the other side, but she wasn't confident enough in her aim while running, didn't want to chance ricocheting a bullet into an innocent bystander, and wasn't sure she could do the thing any harm anyhow. So she did the only thing she could do: she kept up. Vollan was leading the ghostlem deeper into the city, and the traffic was thickening. That was no good. Sooner or later they were going to run into a heavy hitter, and then a general melee would break out, and whenever that happened in Three Portlands people got hurt on an industrial scale. There were simply too many absurd variables at play. She'd once seen a bust gone bad take a private jet out of the sky, and on another occasion had been transported to Tasmania after falling down a set of stairs. Part of being UIU was knowing that proportionate response had repercussions far beyond what happened to you or your quarry. Still, she could cut down the collateral damage some. She pulled a strobe light out of her pocket and waved it at the nearest stoplight, a few paces behind Vollan and a few ahead of the ghostlem, and all four lights went red at once. Vollan kept going, but the traffic stopped. So did the ghostlem. Only for a moment, but that moment was meaningful. The thing actually shimmered, glitched like an old VHS tape gone bad before spinning back up to resume the chase. She knew why in an instant, and confirmed the theory at the next intersection by turning the lights from red to orange to red again. This time the ghostlem actually fell flat on its lack of face, pinwheeling its boxy arms in a charming imitation of the headless ghost gaining ground ahead of it. The chaotic traffic signals also caused a few fender benders, and she winced at the sounds of broken headlights as she dashed into the intersection to... ...to... The ghostlem rolled onto its back as she reached it, swinging out with one eerie cinderblockish fist, and she just barely dodged it. The fist flattened the front of a sleek silver rickshaw stopped at the intersection; its driver, a Peregrine Series android, stuck its head out and began calling home in frantic modem tones. The golem shuddered and screeched, then lashed out and up, catching the vehicle's underside and flipping it end over end. The sound stopped, and the monster staggered to its feet. The damage figure was now in the GDP range. Quinn raised the gun again, wondering if there was anything she could shoot that would buy her more time. Bring down the electric lines overhead? No way could she make a shot like that. Place a call and toss her cellphone at the thing? Not enough time. She substituted the strobe light again, and the ghostlem swatted it out of her hand. She spun, catching herself on the asphalt with stinging fingers, and waited to be jellified from behind. //Fuck that,// she thought, and rolled over. //You're a necromancer. Witnessing your own death is first-hand data.// The ghostlem had both fists clenched together, a solid chunk of unsolidity perfectly blocking and framing the sun, and it was about to bring them down on top of her when a pair of shining silver leads flew through its back and stuck in its Jello-like bulk. It hesitated for an instant, then //disappeared,// then reappeared, and began to jerk spasmodically in every direction. It flashed top to bottom like a television test pattern, bellowed like a 200 kilobaud bear, and hit the crosswalk like a very heavy dead thing. Quinn looked into the intersection. Tonya was standing in the middle of it, stance wide, taser in both hands, Quinn's rickshaw on the sidewalk behind her. "Ow," said Quinn, and it came out just shy of a proposition. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Karen felt even more pleased with herself than usual, but had to admit Quinn did an admirable job hauling the murder robot onto her rickshaw and securing it to the roof with bungee cords. She felt she could spare the other woman a little respect. "You ran a good race," she said as Quinn taped an active dictaphone to the creature's flank. "Surprised you can run so fast with balls that big." Quinn flushed, and said nothing. It took them only a few minutes to track the errant ghost down. He'd chosen discretion over valour when the ghostlem -- Karen rolled her eyes when presented with the neologism -- had turned to fight its pursuer, and had hoofed it into Memorial Park where he had promptly been mobbed by a Civil War re-enactment composed entirely of real Civil War dead. They found him cowering in a faux foxhole as ethereal bombs burst in air overhead, hands clamped over the stump of his neck, and hauled him back to the rickshaw by his lapels. They left him shivering in the trunk. Eva was positively swooning. She and the Frau had ridden along in the backseat, and they'd seen the entire drama unfold from the sidewalk. "I'm glad I died," the reformed murderer told Quinn as Karen slid into the shotgun position. "The thirties were so much less interesting than this." The Frau hadn't left her seat, so Quinn hopped in the driver's side and craned her neck back to ask: "How'd your Googling go?" "Fine." The older woman was still scrolling on her phone. "I worked out the necessary rituals, and had time to spare, so I looked up the name you gave me. Vollan. He's the guy who was pushing for more esoteric immigration to Three Ports a few months back, you remember?" Karen did not remember. Vollan hadn't talked much shop, and while the Foundation was far more generally in-the-know than either the UIU or some washed-up psychic, she herself was an administrator first and foremost. Local news in a forbidden free port wasn't her //forte.// Quinn, however, nodded. "Kinda do. Nothing came of it, right?" The Frau thumped the rickshaw roof meaningfully, then winced and shook out her hand when it failed to yield at all. "Maybe it did. Maybe he was importing ghost golems." Quinn frowned. "Doesn't seem likely. These don't seem like sapient things. More... manufactured, and not very well. Messy work." Karen slid lithely out the passenger side and glanced over the glitchy form. It was a hodgepodge of rough shapes, an outline in gleaming metal. Faint pulsing lines ran through and across it like a limbic system. "Thoughtform, maybe?" she mused. "Like your girlfriend?" "Could be," Quinn agreed, carefully not looking at Eva but instead glancing back at the Frau again. "Ever seen anything like it?" "No." The older woman looked agitated. "Hey, think maybe you should call for backup? I don't like it hanging over our heads like this." "Nuh-uh." Quinn squirmed in the seat and produced a wallet from her back pocket, which she tossed into the backseat. "We're still retaining your services. Track Vollan's missing head." "I have a better idea." Karen slid back into the rickshaw. "Track the ghostlem." Quinn blinked, then suddenly grinned. "Oh, //hell// yes. That's a much better idea. If it's a thoughtform, it's a //form.// Should be the same principle, right? But easier, because it's whole. Find out where it came from, and we can learn why it murdered Vollan." The Frau sighed. "Why not? I can't even close up, since you got my the entire storefront wiped out." "How does your divination work?" Karen asked. The Frau produced Vollan's cellphone from the folds of her robe, and held it equidistant from her own. "I biangulate," she explained. "I feed my chakra into the leywaves, and focus on the presence I'm tracking, and I can project where they've been onto any GPS." "No," Karen said. "That's stupid. That's far, far too stupid to be anything real." She looked at Quinn. "Tell her that's stupid, and then tell me you mean it." Quinn smiled apologetically. "Road trip!" Eva shouted enthusiastically. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The Frau sat in the centre of the backseat, arms outstretched so that each phone was pointing out one of the rickshaw, Eva leaning back to give her room. "I call upon the powers vested in me by Android, Experia, Nokia and BlackBerry." "Fuck off," Tonya laughed, and Quinn felt the sudden urge to high-five her or worse. "We have no time for theatre, just do your magic." The mystic shrugged, then closed her eyes. "Hmm." She opened her eyes, hummed some more, then shuddered as though an electric charge had gone through her body. "It's got a strong spirit," she remarked. "Very strong. Too strong. More like a gestalt spirit, many voices, many paths. But all with the same origin." She nodded. "Turn the GPS on." Quinn powered up the cheap dashboard unit, and a course laid itself out automatically. Frau der Streich was a terrible psychic, but she was nobody's fool at electromancy. The golem's path through the power lines to the Frau's shop took them on a winding tour of the city's edge, from the GOC offices Vollan had been fleeing toward to the paranormal consulates, the ICSUT campus and the false front used as [[[/vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub\|Vikander-Kneed Technical Media]]]'s mailing address, a paper-thin façade which collapsed at least once a week, burying local traffic. Before long they were wending their way through greenbelt sideroads and one-way streets, their guide twitching and muttering to herself in binary code, Quinn pointing out the local landmarks to Eva and occasionally stealing glances at Tonya. The elegant blonde hadn't lost one iota of intensity over the course of their little outing, but the waves of ice radiating off her no longer seemed quite so frosty. Nothing like a mystery and a bit of life-or-death exertion to break down one's barriers. Finally the Frau announced they would need to make the remainder of the trek on foot, having brought them to Garland Park which was closed to all motorized traffic. They left the rickshaw in a parking lot Quinn would have found unaffordable without her police pass, and watched the old fraud swaying in the dying light of evening with both phones still clutched in her hands. "I can see it in the waves now," she proclaimed. "Bouncing all around. We're close, very close, I know it." Vollan's ghost was still in the foetal position in the trunk, as Quinn had expected. It didn't have many virtues as a perch, but was far too small to contain a ghostlem, so the dead man had once again chosen discretion and stayed put. It took all four of them to haul him back out. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Tonya twisted her ankle at the half-mile mark, and Quinn hung back to check on her. "You really should have borrowed some sneakers before we left." She did like seeing beautiful woman wearing her clothes... "She's leading us on a wild goose chase." Tonya pretended to adjust her shoe. Quinn blinked. "You think?" "Yes." Tonya pretended to massager her ankle. "Most likely she's in on this with whoever sent the ghostlems. She was on her phone a few minutes before--" "--we got attacked. Right." Quinn glanced up. The Frau was spinning in a circle in the middle of the park like Maria in //The Sound of Music,// no doubt looking for a better signal, and //oh bless her heart// Eva was doing the same beside her for no particular reason. Vollan's ghost was sulking beneath a transplanted Hy-Brasilian golden ash tree. "She tipped them off. You're probably right." "You'll get used to that," Tonya smiled. "So what do we do?" "Keep following her, I guess," Quinn shrugged. "I've got a tracker on me, so if something happens the bureau will know. I'd rather find out where she's leading us than ditch her and end up with no leads at all. You game?" The smile became, for the first time, a grin. It was fierce, and it took Quinn aback. "I am //entirely// game. I hate being lied to much more than I hate being shot at." Quinn held out a hand, and helped the other woman up. Her hand was soft, very soft, but the grip was firm. Very firm. The next hour saw them across a series of promenades, open markets and closed malls, the Frau making a spectacle of herself at every possible occasion. Now that she was looking for it, Quinn realized the woman was definitely signalling her allies. The suspicion was only confirmed when they ducked into the alley between an occult bookstore and a Fifthism-and-Nickel bodega, and the late night crowds thinned out to nothing at all. "Getting close now," the Frau trilled. "Just a few more--" Eva slammed the charlatan into the nearest brick wall with the pitchfork she was suddenly holding in her hands, tines pressed straight through the right shoulder and out her back. There was surprisingly little blood. The cellphones clattered to the alley floor. "Do they think you're important?" Eva asked. "What? WHAT?!" the Frau howled. Quinn saw the headless ghost edge away from them, and once again considered brandishing her useless firearm. "The people you're leading us to, or leading to us. Do they think you're important, or expendable? Because if they think you're important you'll be a good bargaining chip, but if you're expendable, we might as well expend you and go on our way." Quinn shared a look with Tonya. She had the distinct impression the woman was feeling platonically what Quinn was feeling romantically toward the living legend. The Frau cursed in a pastiche of several Germanic languages. "Turn on your damn radio," she hissed. Eva had the portable set looped around her belt. She reached down to roll the volume wheel, and Vollan's voice spilled out in a rush. "--her go, let her GO god dammit! She's on my side! She's taking me home." The three of them who could still turn, turned to stare at him. He raised his hands in placation. "The Frau is on my payroll, that's why I sent you to her. She's taking you to one of my holding companies. They'll know how to help me." "Holding companies," Quinn repeated. "Why do I have a feeling that's a euphemism? Foreign politicians don't get headshot in upmarket bistros for honest business dealings, Vollan. What's waiting for us where we're going? A warehouse full of mercenaries and four tubs full of acid?" "Hey. Hey. Be calm." The ghost mimed the tamping-down of a raging fire. "We can negotiate out of this. My people will know how to--" Quinn scooped up the dead man's phone as he made his pitch, and brandished it at him with one hand while striking a scented match on her belt with the other. "Still thy tongue, unmourned dead. Stay thy hand, and hang thy head. Follow me and mine awhile, in aspect calm, devoid of guile." Vollan slumped forward but did not fall, like a puppet on slack strings. "And also go fuck yourself," Quinn added. "Airhead." She dropped the match, which died in the dirt in a burst of blue flame, and plucked the radio off her belt. "This is Agent Law." "Go ahead," Driscoll answered immediately. "I need search warrants and raiding teams for all local businesses near my location, and I need it fast. This relates to the execution of a GOC executive, and the planned execution of a federal agent." She paused. "And her friends." Driscoll paused, then acknowledged. Quinn replaced the radio at her hip, and saw that the Frau had passed out. Eva was still holding her in place, a look of grim satisfaction on her pretty face. Tonya looked like a literal portrait of awe, and Quinn realized the awe was directed at her. //I do put on a good show, don't I?// She was far too pleased with herself to spoil the moment by saying the thing which occurred to her as she observed the little tableau. "Pitchfork medium." Tonya clearly hated herself for uttering the words, and Quinn felt a heady rush of quite the opposite. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Vollan owned practically the entire district, it turned out, and he did indeed have more than one warehouse filled with mercenaries claiming total ignorance of any incoming assassination targets. The warehouses were also filled with electronic equipment of every possible description, and the search warrants Driscoll was able to secure quickly filled in the picture for them: the deceased Silicon Nornir diplomat was a major importer and exporter of contraband hardware. Thaumodynamic capacitors, quantum liquaporters, ectoplasmic dispersal conduits, all of them with bespoke forged permits attesting to their absolute safety and certification. If the man wasn't building a superweapon, he was setting up a clearinghouse for supervillains. Karen was no longer surprised at how expensive his tastes had been; the man obviously liked to live dangerously. Driscoll was impressed with the results. He asked Quinn to be his deputy on what was now a full-fledged taskforce, and she seemed happy to accept. He agreed not to detain Eva for assaulting the Frau, which made her even happier. He insisted on coming along when they followed up on the next lead, and further insisted they bring along the catatonic ghost, two developments she apparently felt ambivalent about, but it didn't matter. They knew where all the lines converged now. The search of Vollan's offices yielded a wealth of paperwork attesting to a diverse array of undisclosed sundry businesses in Three Portlands. One in particular stood out, a housing development called Empty Acres which seemed to exist in the memory of no human being or electronic registry. Further research suggested Vollan owned land in The Divot, a stable spatial flexure in the city's dimensional bubble which was easily its least prime chunk of real estate, so that became the most likely suspect. Quinn said she'd never secured a simpler warrant, minus the part where she had to keep reminding the judge what this was all about. Karen's head was swimming. Whatever this was, it was obviously a whole lot bigger than a hit on a GOC rep -- which was already pretty big. She knew she ought to call it in, but there was no reason to make the diplomatic incident tripartite if she could help it. Involving the Foundation cast suspicion on the Foundation in ten cases out of ten, that was just the way things were with the Groups of Interest. So she put on a show, brazenly insisting she tag along, and Quinn eagerly backed her up. They loaded up the rickshaw, ectoentropically-generated farm tool and all, and headed down to The Divot to see what was what. There were indeed buildings on Vollan's plot of land, which dipped so far below the paraboloid sheet that the water table turned the soil both marshy and blue, and every structure crunched inward like a parallelogram at the top. The complex was an L-arrangement of ugly rotten brownstones, a massive pile of trash lying ignored in the courtyard, windows boarded up and a series of jet black vehicles parked on either side of the narrow street. A sign on the yellow lawn read EMPTY ACRES. "Does the town not collect garbage?" Karen asked. "They do," Quinn responded. "Trash in Three Ports is no laughing matter. The stuff folks throw away around here can turn you green, or inside out, or back in time. We've got the speediest sanitation workers this side of Eurtec. I don't get it." She headed up the short flight of stairs to the double doors of the nearest building, gun drawn, then knocked on the rail with her boot. No response. She tried the door. No response there either. She noted the wide glass windows on either side, shuttered with Venetian blinds; she also noted the two-by-four discarded on the porch. They weren't inside long before the stench became unbearable. "Is that... alcohol?" Karen wrinkled her nose. Quinn was watching her wrinkle her nose. She shook her head, apparently to clear it, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's alcohol. And a whole lot besides." She picked her way through the trash-strewn corridor. "This place is a sty, but someone's still cleaning it. Just enough to get by." "Empty Acres is supposed to be a housing development." Karen narrowly avoided spearing a moldy sandwich with her high heel. "This is more like a retirement home gone to pot." Quinn nodded. "If there's anyone still in here, they are //mighty// retired. Guess we're gonna have to check each door." This turned out to be unnecessary. The first door she tried led to a relatively tidy room absolutely reeking of antiseptic, wherein they found a molded leather couch occupied by a withered-looking humanoid... something. It was difficult to concentrate on them, particularly the facial features, if they existed at all. The figure was sitting zen-style on the cushions, eyes closed and thumbs and forefingers locked together, as though meditating. They were hooked up to half a dozen IVs, and a catheter, and a colostomy bag. Karen's nose wrinkled further, and this time Quinn was too busy retching to watch. Eva's green eyes were wide and frightened. The ghost's arms hung down below its waist, and it stared at the carpet. "What are we looking at?" Driscoll asked slowly. "If I had to guess?" Karen focused as hard as she could on the seated form, and still found it impossible to make out their face. "I'd guess these are the immigrants Vollan was sponsoring." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Try though they might, they couldn't stir the faceless humanoid to wake. A search of the other rooms revealed similar beings, all passively antimemetic, all slowly withering away to nothing... like Empty Acres itself. It proved impossible to get backup to help explore the complex, everyone else lacking the personal connection to the case which had allowed Quinn to focus long enough to pull up alongside it. There were teams of agents driving circles around The Divot even now, forgetting and remembering and forgetting once again what they were supposed to be doing and why. Some of the patients, if that was what they were, did have faces. Quinn took photos of their faces, and sent them back to the bureau for identification. While she was waiting for a response, Eva stumbled on something else: a [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uiu-file-2003-112 \| utility golem]]] standing stock still in a janitor's closet, wearing a hospital orderly outfit. There was something very wrong with the inscription on its forehead; it made Tonya's eyes itch, and it gave Quinn a splitting headache that disappeared as soon as she looked away. When the IDs came in and Quinn looked down at her phone, the golem suddenly lurched to life and staggered into the hallway, apparently blind as a bat. They watched it tend the IVs, one by one, empty the catheters and colostomy bags out the windows, pour antiseptic onto the shuddering figures which twitched and moaned in their trances as the bacteria on their skin bubbled and fizzed. It paid them no notice. "I knew it." Quinn pocketed her phone again. "I //fucking// knew it." "What?" Driscoll watched the golem putter back into the closet, and close the door. "The ones who aren't antimemetic. They're the programmers who went missing. The ones everyone thinks the //fucking// skippers took." Tonya winced, apparently at the profanity. The other agent whistled. "Wow. I wonder what Vollan needed that many programmers for?" Quinn opened her mouth, then closed it, then frowned, then opened her frown. "It doesn't look like he needs them for anything? They're all comatose. He's a slum landlord, and he's keeping them sedated. Got the golem taking care of their biologicals, presumably while he siphons off their funds and keeps them from moving on or out. He made a bank account out of these folks." Tonya looked briefly like she might spit on the morose ghost, only reconsidering because it would be both unladylike and unlikely to take affect. Driscoll shook his head. "Doesn't explain it all. Sure, grab the antimemetic people, whoever they are, because everyone will forget they even existed. Perfect crime. But why programmers? Those disappearances hit the papers hard for a few weeks, before the whole rat mayor scandal overshadowed it. And it can't be cost-effective to maintain all this medical equipment, even with golem labour. Hell, just //purchasing// a golem is a major investment. Doesn't add up." "Huh." "So wherever they are, they must be doing something important for him." "Hold up," Tonya interrupted. "Wherever they are? They're right here." "Physically, sure." Driscoll nodded. "Spiritually, they're astral projecting." Quinn sucked in a breath. "He'd know," she said. "He's an expert." She turned to face the other women. "Why would you want a bunch of programmers to astral project?" "I still don't really understand what programming is," said Eva. "I was born over a century ago." "Tech companies do that work-from-home thing, right?" Karen suggested. "Could be what this is. Telepresence." Driscoll scoffed. "Looks like major crunch time, if that's what this is. They're emaciated. Starving." "Video game development, then." Quinn pondered. "Ethan?" she said. "Yes?" Driscoll answered. "Do you still do forced projection?" The other agent screwed up his face. "I mean, where it's necessary, sure, but..." "Would you not say this is necessary? We can't break them out of these trances until we know where they've gone. They could die if we wake them up. They could be doing something important. They could be placating angry silicon gods. They could be immanentizing the Nornir eschaton. We don't know, and we need to." "Ugh." He shook his head. "Don't feel good about that. What if I can't bring you back?" "Then you'll know they went somewhere bad." "Hold on." Tonya was raising one finger primly. "He can force you to astral project?" Quinn nodded and shook her head at the same time. "Sort of, yes, no. His talent is identifying astral pathways and pushing light bodies along them. He can help me project, then send my projection where theirs went." She pointed at the skinny woman breathing shallowly on the couch beside them. "This sounds like a terrible idea." Eva's features were tight with concern. "If you're going to do it, you can't do it alone. I'm coming with you." "Not a good idea." Driscoll shook his head. "Never projected a thoughtform before. You might just fade into the imaginary and be lost for good. Ethically wouldn't even consider doing it." "So you go with her, then," Eva suggested. The tightness was in her voice now as well. Again he shook his head. "Can't do that. Need to be out here, in case I see signs of trauma and have to pull her out." "Oh, for fuck's sake." Tonya walked into the middle of their rough semicircle. "Obviously //I'm// going with her. There isn't even a discussion to be had. Get out your smelling salts, or whatever, and let's get these souls on the road." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Karen closed her eyes, and focused on Quinn. They were lying down in a vacant room on a picnic blanket Quinn had stashed in the back of her rickshaw, holding hands. Eva was sitting in the corner, watching them. Vollan was in the hall, watching nothing. Driscoll was sitting beside Quinn, his own eyes closed, one hand on the forehead of a sleeping programmer stretched out on the apartment floor. A career administrator, Karen had meditated hundreds of times. Some days she did it instead of sleep. Some days she did it in the middle of meetings she knew she could afford to ignore. Oftentimes she did it while other people were trying to make small talk with her. They already thought she was a bitch, after all, so what could it hurt to ignore them? She felt the other woman's hand clenched, and clenched her hand back. Focused on the sensation, on that one body part and the connection it formed with her unlikely ally. She stilled her breathing, and relaxed. She saw her body in her mind's eye, expanding to take in every muscle and organ then contracting back in to just the tips of her fingertips. She felt the vibrations coming on, and in a state of sudden hypnosis she asked herself sleepily //how much weirder can this date get?// It almost broke the spell when she reminded herself that the date had been with the dead man, and not the woman whose hand was in her hand, who was breathing in time with her, who was-- —floating beside her, red hair billowing like a burst of blood in water. They were floating. They were free. They were-- They were //moving.// She felt the push, felt a tether pull her backward through a vast expanse of stars, through a field of swaying corn, through the blackest depths of ocean, through the memories of lives she'd lived on other planes of existence so real and vivid she wanted to weep, and finally through a sheer blank sheet of white nothing. Then her mind resumed its rationalization, and she found herself gazing down on Three Portlands far below, the unique topology so warped at this altitude that her stomach would have wrenched had she still been attached to it. She tightened her grip on her friend's spectral hand, and they made eye contact as the cord dragged them formlessly through empty streets and empty halls and empty parks in a grey and blue simulacrum of urban structure. And then they were back in the vacant room, only now it was truly vacant. No Driscoll, no Vollan, no Eva. Just Karen and Quinn, translucent and weightless and also entirely nude. Quinn looked away, an enchantingly guileless gesture since there was nothing to see but blank walls and the closed door. "Where are we?" Karen asked. "Or I suppose, where are //they?//" "I think they're where we left them." Quinn walked gingerly around the room, clearly uncomfortable with her clothing situation and attempting not to sneak glances at Karen's. "Astral projection is supposed to allow your light body to visit physical locations in the real world, but unbound by physical restraints. That's not what this is at all. We've astral projected to somewhere else entirely, some kind of... astral //simulation?//" "Simulation," Karen agreed, and they said the next word at the same time: "Programmers." The door opened, and a faceless being like the ones back at the real Empty Acres walked in. Its blank body was tensed to fight, hands clenched into fists, and its echoey voice seemed very far away when it spoke: "Who are you? We didn't hear about any new tenants. Did Vollan send you?" They shared a glance. "I'm the diplomat," Karen said. Quinn nodded. Karen stepped forward, and extended a hand. "I'm Tonya, and this is Quinn. Vollan most definitely did not send us. Vollan is dead." She had the general sense of a smile from the figure, and its stance relaxed somewhat as it shook her hand. "Tell me something I don't know. But he could still have sent you. We know he's walking around down there." "That's my fault." Quinn stepped forward, not offering a hand since hers were both positioned for maximum modesty. "I'm a necromancer, UIU. I called his spirit forth as part of an official investigation into his murder." "Mm." The figure sighed heavily. "Should have known that would happen. It was a lousy plan, but it was all we had. Well, whatever. Maybe you'll come up with a better one once you've been stuck here a few months." He made a lazy, vaguely welcoming gesture. "Welcome to the Astral Projects." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "Vollan is hardcore GOC." The antimemetic projection led them through the halls of the Astral Projects, the slumland of the disembodied. "He was overseeing a research team working on aerosolized amnestics, for handling long-term memories in large localized incident zones. You know, cult villages, towns with zombie plague outbreaks, cities witnessing pataphysics on the local news. That sort of thing. He wanted to tackle the problem from an angle nobody had ever tried before. Got us all trained up on theosophy, the grand truth undergirding all human thought." He snorted. "Rich idiots always think there's some philosophical trick to making all their dreams come true. Believe it into being. Wish he hadn't been so right." They passed a dozen open apartment doors, where naked nobodies shovelled grey slurry into their mouths or argued in fierce whispers or openly wept. There was trash on the floor, as there was back on Earth. The place was in a worse state of disrepair than its physical counterpart. It reeked of pure despair, translated directly from minds to mind-palace. "Did you know about this?" Quinn asked Tonya. They were still holding hands. "Of course not." The other woman's voice was coldly furious. Quinn squeezed her hand once. "Anyway," their guide continued, "he didn't know the first thing about tech. Pushed the team hard. We couldn't get a chemical solution that worked right, but nanites showed real promise." "You're joking." Quinn didn't even try to keep the horror from her voice. "Memory-altering nanite clouds?" Tonya growled. "What did they call this, Project Grey Goo? That's wildly irresponsible." "Vollan didn't want responsibility, he wanted results. And he probably would have gotten them, except we went into crunch time, people got sleepy, people got //sloppy,// and we had... an incident." The figure's voice was flat, without affect, but he still managed to give off the sense of remembered dread with that pregnant pause. "The nanites worked on noetic principles, making tiny local edits to cognition. They malfunctioned, bad. Real bad." "How bad?" Quinn asked. "Wiping our identities bad." The blank head shook from side to side, rueful. "The whole research division. One misplaced integer and we lost our entire lives. Family, friends, jobs, government records. Erased from existence. One hundred people, all passively antimemetic." "Wow." It was an empty utterance, but nothing Quinn could have said would have been sufficient. "That's... I'm sorry." They passed a woman who still had her face. She was weeping, heaving, staring at the ceiling. "WHY?" she screamed. "WHY CAN'T I CRY?" Her translucent eyes were matte, dry. "A few days later," their guide continued, heedless, "we get an offer from a landlord in Three Portlands, says he has a real deal for us. We live in his apartment buildings rent free, and he gets his scientists to run non-intrusive tests on us. Maybe find a solution, maybe just develop some applications. But we can't tell the GOC, since even though they've forgotten the project, the data is all theirs. We agreed. Didn't have a lot of options." "And that's how you ended up in Empty Acres," said Tonya. "Yeah. Good name, right?" The figure chuckled drily. "Only good thing about it. Goddamn leper colony. No money, no prospects. Couldn't leave the buildings without potentially getting stopped by the cops, or the UIU, or worse." "Worse?" Tonya asked. "The skippers." "Goddamn skippers," Quinn swore. "You'd be lucky to trade one box for another." Tonya said nothing. "I'd make a pine box joke, but we both know they're the mass grave sort," the figure agreed. "But yeah, we couldn't really do much but hang around the complex feeling sorry for ourselves. The landlord didn't give a shit, we never even saw the guy. Barely any staff. So we started making some noise. Actual noise for starters, loud music and TV in the middle of the night. Then we'd turn on all the electrical equipment, try to max out his power bill. Piled garbage in the halls. Interfered with the tests. Anything to make it clear we weren't gonna take this shit lying down. Nothing, nothing, nothing. As far as the world was concerned, we were invisible. Then one day the man himself shows, large as life, and pitches us his plan." "Plan?" They were in the common area now, capacious space banked with wide windows overlooking the courtyard. It was filled with long tables, and the tables were filled with expensive-looking desktop computers, all as ethereal as the person-like shapes tapping away at them. //The illegal components,// Quinn thought. There was a ghostly golem standing in the middle of the programming cluster, and it watched them pass without comment. It wasn't like the one that had been haunting Vollan; it was, she realized in a rush of understanding, the golem they'd seen at Empty Acres. In between cleaning the shit and piss out of their bags, it astral projected back here to keep an eye on the inmates. //They taught a fucking golem to astral project.// Her moral core, police instincts and practitioner's ethics fought to see which aspect could be more horrified. "An escape." The figure shook its head again. "We could let him take care of our bodies while we took care of our souls. Astral project to a holiday dimension where our every need would be met, all of it powered by our biometrics, our medical care covered by the city under the auspices of a care facility. It made sense. It sounded good. So we signed up, and he sent us here one by one." It gestured at the blank walls, the blank faces, the blank sky through the windows, the dead tree in the middle of the courtyard full of dead grass. The blue-grey hellscape. "The mental echo of Empty fucking Acres," the figure continued. "He tricked us into becoming wards of his company, giving them total control over our bodies, with our souls living in a habitat he controlled. We all found out soon enough that once you check into the Astral Projects, you never check out. It's a one-way trip." Tonya stopped walking. They were standing in a stairwell; they could hear echoes from above and below, dozens of voices raised in protest or lament. "Are you saying we can't leave?" The figure shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe //you// can. I don't know how you got in here, we've never seen anyone from outside the department or Vollan himself. How did you get past the guards and scientists?" "There weren't any," said Quinn. "Place looked abandoned, except for the golem." "What? Seriously?!" The faceless figure's body language communicated raw panic. "Who's looking after our bodies?" "Uh... nobody, far as we could tell." Quinn wasn't sure she should be telling him this, but she was certain he deserved to know. Tonya didn't protest. "Looked like they were just going to leave you to die. The golem was emptying and refilling your bags, but that's it. The whole site has gone mildly antimemetic, they probably figured you'd just rot away without anyone noticing, or... forgot you themselves, actually." "That's what it was," Tonya agreed. "He was saying at dinner he'd been checking up on business. Probably trying to figure out why the research wasn't getting done, didn't realize your antimemetic contagion was spreading." She paused. "Sorry." "Jesus. Wow. Okay." The figure leaned back on the nearest wall, becoming an almost indistinguishable fixture of it. "That pushes the timeline forward a little. No wonder some of the programmers have been getting woozy." "Timeline? What timeline?" It regarded them coolly. "I don't know if I trust you enough to tell you that. We're working on something, and it's not what we're supposed to be working on." "Actually, wait." Tonya placed both hands on her hips, and Quinn looked down at them, then rapidly back up. She wondered if astral projections could blush. "What //are// you supposed to be working on? What are all these people doing on those computers?" The figure headed up the stairs, and they followed. "A whole bevy of tech projects. If you know anything about programming, you know companies hate paying for the work they extract." "Not just in programming," Tonya remarked. "Sure, but there's a special relationship between tech companies and overwork. Crunch culture. The boss wants you working every second of every day, and he doesn't want to pay you extra for it. This place is the natural extension of that." The next floor opened on an open plan computer lab not unlike the one downstairs, but much larger. Quinn's mind boggled at how many people, faceless and otherwise, were trapped body and soul in this unholy arrangement. These ones were all wearing headsets. "Welcome to the world's cheapest twenty-four hour call centre." "Oh," Quinn said breathlessly. "You've got to be kidding." "Nope. For the one time investment of a stolen golem and an astral pusher, you too can own a whole apartment complex full of free tech support. The folks downstairs are working on a secure connection protocol called NornirVPN. The ones upstairs are immanentizing the eschatosilacon. And Vollan's raking in the cash, as he never tires of telling us whenever he projects on up here." "He visits you?" Tonya snorted in frustration. "To what, brag? Give marching orders? I'm sorry you only killed him twice. Wait, how //did// you--" "No, //wait// wait," Quinn interrupted. "You said astral pusher? You mean you didn't all learn to astral project?" The figure laughed. "You kidding me? We're programmers! We have absolutely zero cool. No, he got a guy to do that for him. Real smooth operator. Professional." "Oh," said Tonya. "Shit." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "Do you think they're alright?" Eva stroked Quinn's hair gently. Her eyes were moving back and forth rapidly. "I know it." Driscoll maneuvered Vollan's ghost into the room, then closed the door and locked it. Eva sighed. "How will you know if that changes? If you need to pull them out?" He sat down beside the comatose programmer, checking her vitals. "Just trust me," he smiled. "I'm a professional." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "Driscoll," Quinn spat. No spit came out. "Of course. But... wait. Does that mean he was trying to save his boss when he had me summon his ghost? Were they hoping to... re-embody him?" The figure's stance suggested perplexity. "Did they not try?" "Well, no. They had me take him to a safe house, then let me drag him all across town looking for clues. We were looking for his head." The figure's eyes became visible long enough for a slow blink to be seen. "His head?" The figure laughed flatly. "Don't tell me we blew his astral head off, too?!" It continued to laugh, so long and so hard that it doubled over, and they could suddenly hear a scrap of actual personality in the sound. The figure was male. "What's your name?" Karen asked. He said something she couldn't understand, and she forgot it immediately. "Not that you'll remember. But oh, wow. That's amazing. Thanks for telling me that. That really made my day. Mm." He straightened again. "I guess your heart's in the right place." "Yeah," Quinn agreed. "Back in the real world, with the rest of our bodies. All our bodies. Can't you help us get back there?" He shook his head. "Not like we haven't tried. We have no control over these projections. There's a few ways he could be keeping us here, Vollan, and it hardly matters which one is operative. We've been working on a solution, and I guess it can't hurt to tell you about it. If he was gonna send spies or auditors or whatever, he wouldn't be this subtle." He took a deep breath. "None of us have a lick of occult ability, but there's decades of combined programming knowledge here. We decided to put that to use." "To what end?" Karen asked. "Well, you know, we can't go back. So we decided to go forward. We're building an astral supercomputer, and uploading ourselves into it." "What?" they asked, at the same time. "Astrodigital superprojection." There was a note of pride in the man's voice. "The body dies, the soul fades, but consciousness lives on." "Is that... even plausible?" Quinn sounded very tired. "Plausible? It works!" The man waved his hands, reminding Karen momentarily of her dead, despised date. "It's online right now. We're still debugging the system, and there's not enough room for everyone yet, and we haven't figured out the framework for making code changes within the thing to make it totally self-sufficient, but we'll get there. Hopefully before we starve to death. There's seriously nobody watching our bodies?" "Not that we saw," Quinn replied brusquely. "This simulation, it's not the apartment building again?" "Oh, hell no. It's a paradise, a real paradise. Ideal forms in motion. You'd love it. I could show you, if you like?" Quinn considered, and Karen took the opportunity to seize the initiative. She still had a job to do, after all. "Maybe. First we'd like to know how you're planning on powering all this. Was Vollan dumb enough to leave you the resources you needed to level up out of his prison?" "In a way," he sighed. "Let me show you." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The server room behind the eschaton workroom was packed full of so much machinery that only an astral humanoid could fit inside. "By design," their guide informed them. "Definitely don't want the golems coming in here, and anywhere the golems can't go, Vollan won't." At the back of the room, hooked up to a mass of blinking towers, was a chair full of leads and injectors and festooned with spectral straps. "When we realized we were trapped here, a lot of us gave up. Tried to flatline our bodies." The voice was far away, remembering. "It worked; some people winked out of existence, the ones who had really lost the plot. A few gave their souls up for science, which helped us to develop that." He pointed at the chair. "But eventually it got so bad -- probably no fun disposing of antimemetic corpses, and cutting into the bottom line to boot -- that Driscoll himself started showing up. Tried to calm us down. Pretended to hear out our complaints. Had a bunch of other projectionists powering up his projection so we couldn't harm him, but... well. He didn't really think it through. He didn't know about the machine we were building. If he had, I don't think he would've let them lag his astral form." "They what?" Quinn was entirely lost, and Tonya looked much the same. "Latency. You might also know it as quantum spiritposition." "I do not," Tonya said. "Know it as that. Or very likely anything else." "Well. Basically you let your astral form stay projected, but you keep your consciousness in your physical body, with the option to snap back to the projection if something goes wrong. He left his projection in the Projects while he went on that date with you." "What?" Tonya looked truly, legitimately astonished for the first time since Quinn had known her -- which had only been a few hours, though it felt like days or weeks. "How did you know about the date?" "He bragged about it. Obviously didn't think we could affect the real world, so why not? Wanted us to know what a gorgeous woman he pulled. He wasn't wrong, by the way." Tonya stood up taller, and Quinn allowed herself a brief look over the other woman's fit form. She obviously wasn't shy about her looks, so it didn't feel like an invasion of privacy. It felt like something else entirely. "And that was his mistake," the figure continued. "We knew where his body was, we had a low-powered astral computer with a limited bandwidth infoline to the Three Portlands power grid, and we had a passel of angry theosophists. So we had them make a simple tulpa--" "What's a tulpa?" Tonya asked. Quinn was glad to have the answer. "An intentionally manifested thoughtform. Most thoughtforms, like Eva, come out of a public imaginary through unconscious mass reinforcement. Tulpas are private or shared creations ideated and actualized with agency." "Right," the figure nodded. "We ganged up on one of Vollan's golems -- he used to have two of them in here -- disabled it and hooked it up to the sim. Uploaded the data, and uploaded a few of our own selves, and directed the spiritual energy to the real world. It was absolute hell, but we managed to tap into the power grid in Three Ports. Zeroed in on the thaumic energy and the massive electrical draw, it all shows up in the Metaphysiverse like a red giant star beneath your feet." "Metaphysiverse," Quinn repeated. "That's what we call it," the figure agreed. "Our new home. We're going to put every single one of our souls in there, when we have the power, and then it won't matter where our bodies or astral forms are. We're going to upload our ghosts, the uttermost semblances of self, into the meta shell and hack ourselves a whole new form of creation." His blank gaze was faraway for a moment, then he remembered his place in the narrative. "So yeah. We transformed the golem's energy into a cybertulpa -- got three Jewish programmers on staff, and one of them knew enough golemancy to rewrite the words --- then pumped it into the power grid, dumped it into Three Ports and started popping heads." "Heads?" Quinn repeated again. "More than one?" "All of Vollan's projectionists," the figure explained. "So he'd be weakened." "Why didn't you just contact the authorities?" Tonya demanded. "Could have saved us a whole lot of trouble." "Except the authorities pathologically forget we exist, and Vollan's got a chokehold on all of them already. Moles in the UIU, contacts in the GOC, probably even moles in the Foundation too. We couldn't trust anybody to both care about our plight and have the capacity to remember it's happening. So we sent our cybertulpa to the Red Lord's Arms where it blew the fucker's head clean off, trapping what was left of him in the Projects. We had our battery... until you stole it from us." "Ohhhh." Quinn was suddenly nodding. "I get it. You were going to use his superprojected ghost to power your ridiculous cyberthing." "That ridiculous cyberthing," the figure said quietly, "is the only way we're ever going to have identities of our own that stick. The only way we can remake ourselves. Our bodies and projections are completely scoured of every inch of personality, every identifier, everything that makes a person persistent. We remember who we are inside, but we can't pass that on to anyone. No reproductive capacity whatsoever. We're a dead people unless we do this." "What if someone calls the spirit back to Earth?" Quinn asked. "Just like I did?" "They won't," the figure declared grimly. "We've almost finished constructing a psychic interdiction shield for Empty Acres. Once we turn it on, there's no coming in and no going back. Finality. But we need that ghost to make any of this work. We're not going to sacrifice any more of our souls, and anyway we're all too weak and weary to give it much charge at this point. We used up the last of our stored-up energy sending that second tulpa to retrieve the ghost." "Then we're going to get it back for you," Tonya proclaimed. "Right?" Quinn squirmed. "I mean... I don't really see how? We're stuck in here, just like them. Driscoll won't ever wake us up, and since we went into The Divot I'm sure everyone outside has already forgotten to come looking for us. I guess there's always Eva, but I'm not sure how we'd send her... a message..." The bright expression on Tonya's face matched her own. "Now you're talking. Why come all the way to the digital shore if we're not going to wade out?" Tonya turned to face the figure again. "We're going to need you to upload us to the Metaphysiverse." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Their guide sat down in the chair, attaching the leads to his pale grey skin while they took their positions on a pair of shiny white pads. The surface was cool, thrumming with energy. Karen couldn't believe she was doing this. This wasn't why she'd gone to business school. This was much, much more exciting than business school. "What do we have to do?" Quinn asked. "Just carry out the plan you outlined," the figure said as he finished attaching the device to his body. He'd assured them he had enough energy to send them both to the empty simulation without killing his spirit, however exhausted he already sounded. "I gave you the best directions I can. Remember that you're operating on CPU cycle time there, so hours in the sim will be seconds in the real and surreal worlds, and it'll take days to get your proper bearings. The universe is too complex for a one-to-one conversion, and you'll have to give your brains a while to adjust to the translation." "That's not what I mean," said Quinn. "I mean do we have to hold hands, or meditate, or focus on [[div class="metaphysiverse"]] Quinn Law's avatar was gilt-edged red, pulsating with raw power. It was shorter than Karen's but visibly stronger, glowing brighter, its ruby core thrumming with energy. It regarded Karen's avatar with an awe not unlike what she herself was feeling, and said <Jesus Christ, look at //you.//> Karen looked at her avatar. She was lithe and golden, a constellation of flowing curves. Not much had changed, by her reckoning. She smiled. <Now what?> <Now we find the lines.> Quinn blinked, and the universe began. The universe was an undulating field of green grass and running streams of blue water, white Greek columns lining the shore to light their way in the dark. The stars in the sky were static -- not unmoving, but actual static, the I/O flash of white to black to white again. They started to walk. <Why did you insist on coming with me?> Quinn asked as they reached the first column. She dipped her toes into the stream. The water was warm. <When?> Karen asked, pressing one hand against the column. The stone was unnaturally smooth, and cool to the touch. <Every time.> There were fish in the water. They were nothing like real fish. <At the apartment. At the shop. To The Divot. To the Astral Projects. To whatever this place is.> Karen considered as they made their way down the rillside path. <Because I didn't care,> she said, <when Vollan died. I hardly even thought about it. And I thought that maybe, if I made the effort, I could care about whether you lived. It was a likely enough experiment.> Quinn laughed. Her voice was rich and deep, not particularly feminine, strong and assured. It was the strength inside of her, her spirit, the essence of her light body translated into the purest manifestation of who she really was. More than a human being, a human ideal. Ideals, plural. The both of them. <You're into experiments now?> She took Karen's hand again. <I thought you seemed set in your ways.> Karen saw it now, the lines in the sand of the widening beach. They glowed a deep, satisfying red, like the red warmth of Quinn Law beside her. The map of the world underlaid below this one, overlaid on the one even farther below. Before long, they would glimpse through each layer. They would acclimatize, they would trace the threads to their end, they would send out their message, and descend. But not yet. <Are you trying to talk me to death?> Karen asked, and the crimson glow enveloped her in its arms, and they sank into the sand together. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "Is that normal?" Eva asked. Driscoll stirred. "Is what normal?" She pointed. Both Quinn and Tonya were periodically twitching, the corners of their mouths turning upward, their breathing coming in bursts. Each fit lasted no more than an instant, then they settled back to rest again. He shrugged. "Probably nothing." He checked his watch. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="metaphysiverse"]] Arm in arm they passed through the silica desert, each grain reflecting the endless chaos of background radiation above, following the lines beneath the lines. They could see it all now, spread out before them. The map of everything. Creations interleaved. They could see the dirty rent in the ground where the clumsy cybertulpa had drilled down through the electrical, spiritual and physical realms to deliver Rikard Vollan's penultimate sentence. They could see the flare in the night that was ICSUT. They could see the curious welt in reality surrounding Eva McDoyle, alias Twisted Twirly, the impossible woman who Quinn... ...Quinn didn't really know what to think anymore. What she wanted. "It doesn't matter." Tonya squeezed her hip. "What happens to us doesn't matter. We need to help them. All of them." "And after that?" Quinn's red glow enveloped them both, Tonya's gold melting into the gilded edges in perfect sync. "Now that we understand each other. Now that there's no secrets..." "No secrets," Tonya murmured. She looked away. "I could set you up with a place in Eva's apartment," Quinn found herself saying. "You could get work with the local government, or even the bureau. Anything but the skippers," she laughed. Tonya slipped away from her, jaw suddenly set, and reached down into the sand to execute their plan. To send the message. Quinn reached out to stop her, to claim another instant in her unadulterated company. What could another moment in this timeless void hurt? Or one moment more? [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Eva's phone buzzed. She yawned, and fished it out of her back pocket with extreme difficulty. She caught Driscoll watching, and smirked. It was a text from an unlisted number. It contained instructions. The instructions were, in a word, surprising. She took a deep breath, deleted the text, and said: "I know everything." Driscoll looked up from where he was taking the unconscious programmer's vitals, and frowned. "Everything about what?" "About //you.//" Eva stood, feeling pins and needles in her legs. She really should have gotten up to walk around more, but she was too worried to leave Quinn's side. These pants were absolute murder, too. "I know you were working with Vollan, and I'm going to report you to the UIU." The man looked pained. "That's a damn shame. I was hoping you'd accept that they were lost, and I could go back to the company and tell them the mess was settled." He sighed. "I'm really sorry about this, Miss McDoyle, but you'll eventually realize I had no choice. You'll have a lot of time to think about it." Her heart raced as he raised his hands in the air, his eyes unfocused as they met hers. She felt a sudden drowsiness overtaking her as the mesmerization took hold. She slouched toward the door, putting Vollan's ghost between them as the pusher made his move. She didn't say anything clever as the light enveloped the room, as the bracelet on her ankle glowed like a miniature sun, as the push backfired and the UIU agent passed out, banging his head roughly against the wall, as the ghost raised its hands in one final soundless protest before disappearing in a flash. She didn't feel smug about winning. She felt bad that they both had to lose. But they did both have to lose. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Karen was subjected to a torment the likes of which she had never before felt. Her body burned, and on instinct she forced certain of her muscles into action, and the burning was relieved as a coolness spread throughout her core. She did it again, and again, and again and again and again, and she realized she was breathing, that she //needed// to breathe, and then the oxygen hit her brain and all the extraneous sensory data came with it and she fell to the floor of the server room, and retched. Blind, panicked, she reached out and took Quinn's hand. It was there. Quinn was there. She opened her eyes, and looked at Quinn. The real Quinn, not her idealized form, the ghost of the woman she'd shared one of the worst and most fascinating days of her life with, not the being of pure and startling intent who'd shared so much more with her over the course of what felt like and probably had been whole weeks of abstract exploration. She let go the other woman's hand, and felt a coldness settling over her heart as it tried frantically to remember how to beat of its own volition. "Did we do it?" Quinn's voice was hoarse. Karen wondered if it were possible for a spirit to really experience these physical pains, or if their minds had worn themselves into such deep ruts over decades of existence that they couldn't process the trauma of devolution in any other way than the mock-physical. "Did it work?" "It worked." The voice of the masculine figure was like a memory from the long-distant past. Karen looked up, then sat up, and saw for the first time the glowing form sitting in the seat of power. It wasn't the figure from before. The figure was standing beside it, looking down on them with faceless benevolence. The chair was occupied by the spectral ghost of Rikard Vollan, shuddering in its restraints, head still absent, covered in leads. The server stacks were glowing bright. The capacitors flashed in the dark. Quinn reached for Karen's hand again. Karen stood up without allowing it. Her legs were shaky, but they held. "Driscoll?" "In custody. He's very upset." "I'll bet he is." Quinn stood as well, glancing curiously up at Karen. "I never told him about the ankle bracelet charm." Eva McDoyle had died a wanted outlaw, and though Quinn had explained the circumstances of her revival to the UIU, she'd only been able to secure her friend a sort of spectral probation. The charm prevented her from moving beyond the bounds of Three Portlands, whether physically or spiritually. Driscoll had tipped his hand with that offhand comment about wiping her out entirely; Quinn had suspected he'd try it if he felt his position had been compromised, and apparently she'd been right. The backlash had blasted both him and his employer into the Astral Projects, and the landlords were absentee no longer. "Where is he?" Karen asked. "Decommissioning the golem." The figure sighed in obvious satisfaction. "He's agreed to our terms. All the kidnapped programmers will be released unharmed, and then he will release you, and then we will reconfigure the interdiction field to allow him to release himself, once we have confirmation that all is well Earthside." "And then?" Quinn pressed. "You're going to go through with the upload?" "Of course." The figure might have been smiling. "It's a world of possibility out there, and nothing but emptiness behind." Karen pursed her lips. "What's wrong?" Quinn asked. "Ask me again when we get back home," she said. "Leave the hope here, where it can do some real good." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The first thing Quinn did when she woke up for real was reach out and smack Ethan Driscoll in his senseless face. Then she socked him in the jaw. Then she burst into tears, and felt someone pull her into a soft embrace. She knew by the smell who it was. It was Eva. "Not many people get a second chance at life, you know," she cooed teasingly. Quinn laughed. It came with tears. Tonya sat up slowly, her face a mask of composure. "You'll want to report back to the bureau," she said. Her voice was cold again, as though the events of the day had never even occurred. "Yes..." Quinn stared at the woman she'd come to know very well over seemingly endless milliseconds of surreal time. "I'll have to tell them to come pick up the programmers, and it's going to be a bitch arranging that what, with the Divot and all. Then I'll have to tell them we're in contact with a new plane of existence, and acknowledge that its residents have custody over Vollan's light body, which isn't gonna be easy. The Nornir are definitely gonna be pissed, but maybe you can help smooth that over?" "No." Tonya smoothed out her dress, and adjusted her glasses. "No, I'm afraid I can't. I lied to you, Agent Law. I'm not a member of the Global Occult Coalition, and my name isn't Tonya de Leoncourt." She made eye contact with Quinn. Eva was looking back and forth between them, confused. Quinn felt like she'd just transitioned from yet another layer of reality to a new, darker, colder, far less friendly one. "You're a skipper," she said suddenly. "You're a //fucking// skipper." "My name is Dr. Karen Elstrom," the skipper said. "I'm Level 3 administrative personnel at Lake Huron Research and Containment Site-43, and it's my duty to inform you that the SCP Foundation having had personnel on the metaphorical ground during first contact with the residents of the Metaphysiverse, we will of course require representation at any and all negotiations of sovereign reality status as defined by Codicil 3 of the Multi-Foundation Pact of 1981, to which all known iterations of the Unusual Incidents Unit are signatory." Quinn could barely croak out a response as the blood ran away from her brain. She couldn't understand what was happening, and her own reaction made even less sense. She should have been furious. She should have been distraught. Instead she felt empty, except where Eva was still gently brushing the hair from her face, a touch as light and gentle as summer rain. "Did you enjoy our date?" she finally managed, the words cutting her on the way out. Eva didn't react at all. "I prefer men," the skipper responded. Her blue eyes seemed almost grey in the dim light. "I apologize if you feel misled. I try to keep an open mind." "So noted, Dr. Elstrom," Quinn heard her own voice mutter. "I can handle the investigation from here." Tonya, Karen, the other woman looked like she had something else to say. She turned smartly on her heel, and didn't say it. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Karen glanced over the report in the familiar discomfort of her office chair. On recovering from her wounds Frau der Streich had explained that she had indeed sicced the cybertulpa on Vollan at her shop, the astral exiles having reached out to her for help just moments after the women walked in with the object of its hunt. She'd only defaulted to helping her despised employer when the attack had failed. On weighing the evidence the city council had decided to banish her from Three Portlands with no further criminal charges; an inveterate opportunist, she was expected to set up a new practice in La Rue Macabre before long. Ethan Driscoll had been given a life sentence in Paramax for spiritual genocide, and Rikard Vollan was serving out a similar sentence in the Astral Projects under the //in absentia// care of the First Theosophical Metaphysiverse. They had promised to leave a single cybertulpa behind to make sure he was comfortable while enabling the existence of their sovereign state for the rest of his natural life, which was expected to last until humanity itself winked out of existence at some far-flung moment in the future, at which point they would likely have worked out a more ethical power source. It was quite possibly the single worst fate Karen could imagine, and she couldn't quite bring herself to feel very badly about it. She had inquired, against her better judgement, on the status of Quinn Law and Eva McDoyle. She had been politely informed by the UIU's liaison office that there was no obvious reason why she should require this information, and as such no response would be forthcoming. She had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to decide if she disagreed with that assessment. She spent the evening alone in her dormitory room with a glass of red wine and a battered old copy of the complete works of Coleridge, trying to decide if she'd done the right thing. She spent the night trying to meditate, found she could not, and thought about why that might be. On the following day Karen Elstrom, a woman of exceptional mental control, consciously avoided thinking about anything much at all. She kept the taser. ---- [[=]] *For an alternate take, see [[[//uiu-file-2024-092\|The SAINT SEBASTIAN SLASHER]]] by [[user Anorrack]]!** [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] This article contains a quotation from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1834, in the public domain. This article contains a quotation from [[[Spellbound and Hellbound]] by [[user anorrack]], released under CC BY-SA 3.0. > Filename:* 3Portsterisk.png > Author: [[user Zhange]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-06-25T14:23:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "action", "adventure", "chase", "doctor-elstrom", "fantasy", "global-occult-coalition", "mystery", "on-guard-43", "otherworldly", "romance", "romcon2023-unofficial", "science-fiction", "silicon-nornir", "tale", "third-law", "three-portlands", "unusual-incidents-unit" ]	Transposthumousism - SCP Foundation	57	[ "quinn-law-hub", "scp-7433", "spellbound-and-hellbound", "scp-6987", "vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub", "uiu-file-2003-112", "uiu-file-2024-092", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "third-law-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon", "goldbaker-reinz-hub", "goc-hub-page", "quinn-law-hub", "bitch-hub" ]	[ "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/harry-blank-5/3Portsterisk.png" ]	1448626995	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/transposthumousism
two-time	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The sky was black like bullet rain, and Kiera lay gasping on the hard sandstone, vision blurred and flashing with scarlet fireworks.</p> <p>“Kiera,” Hollatrix took a cigarette from her maw. “Think. You’re a goddamn scientist.”</p> <p>Right. She was.</p> <p>She took a breath, the air scraping into her lungs in a struggle. The coarse steel faded, the sky revealing itself as blue ocean, as the blood flashes drained out of her eyes.</p> <p>“Thanks, imaginary-Hollatrix,” she whispered.</p> <p>She was well equipped with the theory, that was all and well. But that was just it - <em>theory</em>. <em>Theoretically</em>, the timeline had points where it split. <em>Theoretically</em>, there were alternate timelines to her own. And <em>theoretically</em>, their research might make it possible to perhaps access these timelines.</p> <p>And <em>possibly</em> and <em>might</em> and <em>perhaps</em> were the words that had been dangling her eyes, clouding her from seeing actual progress. Yes, perhaps it was possible. But not in her lifetime, certainly. But she had manufactured the machine, and she’d done the maths.</p> <p>Ceelie and Don had helped her with the maths, Ceelie’s tail thumping against the floor when she was thinking hard, and Don muttering to himself in a near constant drone. Then Charlie came to the project, and everything went to shit from there. It wasn’t a <em>bad</em> thing. It was just that…</p> <p>Well, Charlie could do something that wasn’t just science. The first time it had happened, it had been almost too fast to process. They’d been all puzzling over an equation together, stumped beyond all reason, when xer face had screwed up, and suddenly the equation had rearranged, and the answer was sitting in the centre. Charlie had cheered, clapping xer talons together as xe shifted the numbers back to the main board.</p> <p>Ceelie and Don had turned to Kiera, eyes wide and feathers slightly flared out. But they hadn’t mentioned it.</p> <p>Charlie was too good to lose.</p> <p>But something had shifted, during those last few weeks. Charlie got more nervous, and things in the lab started to shift as their move swayed back and forth. A mug on the large auburn table, talon carved and inlaid with gold by Ceelie to mirror the night sky, would change from coffee to tea. A blue coat that Don had come to work in would leave as a red poncho. The week had started with that - and it had ended with Charlie sitting in front of their time machine, panting, as a low light began to emit a static hiss from inside it.</p> <p>And they’d done it.</p> <p>They’d succeeded.</p> <p>So why had it gone wrong then?</p> <p>They’d elected Kiera to test it - since she was the one who had teased the formula out, that got them funding from the University. She’d packed her things, and walked in-</p> <p>“Slow down,” Hollatrix’s voice played in her mind again - and Kiera took a breath, focusing herself back into the timeline. Going over everything, picking it apart, trying to find the gap.</p> <p>Kiera had stepped inside, and Don had begun inputting the coordinates, running them through the equation they’d found. The right inequality sequence, and-</p> <p>The machine had buzzed. They’d named the machine HoloTrix, after Hollatrix, who’d been their supervisor, and practically Kiera’s mom for the longest time; they used to all set their tails in the centre after a tricky research session, and shout “Go HoloTrix!”.</p> <p>That day, they didn’t do it.</p> <p>That day, when they were finishing adjusting the settings, the doors had burst open. And suddenly, a group of Raptors had swarmed the laboratory, grabbing their documents. Two grabbed Charlie’s arms, and held xem back. Charlie yowled, Don panicked. The team leader touched his ear, radioing in somewhere - his words were a jumble in her head, and all Kiera had really heard were the letters he said. “Beta-07, back to Site Command. We got em’. ACP is Contained.”</p> <p>Then Ceelie was shoving documents into Kiera’s bag, and Kiera was stumbling into the machine, and everything was blinking and rushing towards her and away from her at once-</p> <p>And then she was Here.</p> <p>The machine was broken. That was not a good start. And in the fiery nova that had crashed her here, the documents she’d been carrying had nearly been scorched to ash. Swearing, she stood up, and felt around - there. Her glasses had landed a few feet away, one of the lenses cracked, but the other intact.</p> <p>And she looked out. Here stretched a sandy cliff, overlooking a desert settlement. Here was a blinding sun and cornflower sky. Here was a deafening heat, and noise that pierced her ears - - the roar of distant machines. Here were stray clouds drifting and air that choked her lungs, making her turn and grab for the oxygen mask she’d packed. Where the fuck was she?</p> <p>“Hollatrix. Please. For Sanador’s sake, where the fuck are you?” Kiera whispered. Think. Think like a Scientist.</p> <p>Get that thick Pachy skull of yours into gear, Kiki. You have a PhD in Physics. You have an equation named after you. The Damindar Inequality.</p> <p>Right. She conjured that chart into her head, the idea of the universe back into frame. She wasn’t too far from home, statistically speaking- the presence of recognisable flora proved that. Searching the air, she spotted a small insect flitting past. Squinting through her still-working lens - a variety of <em>anisoptera</em>. Smaller than the ones she was familiar with - perhaps some sort of shift in genetics related to food chain organisation? A general shift in size? That made sense.</p> <p>So- run that through the major three percentage factors, plug it into the larger inequality (God, she needed a calculator), and… she was around Cluster Percentage 3 × 10<sup>-12</sup>. That meant that through reversal…</p> <p>This universe was in the cluster of those with 99% similarity.</p> <p>It had worked. The overlap was safe.</p> <p>Kiera took a deep breath.</p> <p>As a sharp needle embedded itself deep into her neck.</p> <hr/> <p>Kiera resisted the urge to clamp her ridged teeth onto the uniformed Doctor’s hand.</p> <p>“Explain it again- how did you get here?” His voice was flat and affectless.</p> <p>“And again- I <em>could</em> explain it, if you let me have paper,” Kiera hissed back, lashing her tail. The Doctor nodded, as if he understood. “Subject displaying agitation,” he noted into the recorder he held. “Progress seems to be unlikely. It is unclear whether any progress has been made towards the subject's understanding of human speech.”</p> <p>“It sure is gonna be, if you keep being this dense, fucking <em>hominoidea</em>,” Kiera spat in response.</p> <p>They’d taken all her possessions away when she’d woken up - her compass, journal (though that had been too scorched to salvage anyway), her robe and oxygen tank. They’d let her keep her glasses, and her enclosure was at least well-oxygenated enough that she could breathe. The machine was gone, of course. Kiera doubted she’d ever seen it again.</p> <p>But the drugging and containment hadn’t been the thing to set her off the edge. It had been the way they treated her. If they just let her have some paper, or let her touch any of the shiny tech they’d beeped and buzzed under her nose and over her feathers, she’d be fine (Oh god… her mouth practically watered at the thought of doing maths again). But instead, it was <em>this</em>. Being treated like she was stupid.</p> <p>“Here,” the doctor in the corner stepped in. Kiera surveyed it - Female Hominid, not at all close to any Hominoidea they had in Kiera’s timeline. Roughly 8.5- no, make that 8.75 talons tall. Skin was pale and fleshy, with a red fur growth protruding from her scalp. Body language indicated authority, though the other doctor seemed apprehensive to her. Kiera felt dizzy with the information input. Yet her analysis had been, as of now, the only thing keeping her sane.</p> <p>“SCP-317,” she began, gaze level to Kiera’s. “I’m Dr Moira. I’m the researcher in charge of you, along with Dr Lost, and Dr Smith.” She indicated the stern man who’d been carrying out the interviews up to that point. “I want you to tap the table twice if you can understand what I’m saying.”</p> <p>Kiera’s eyes widened. Leaning forwards, she tapped the table twice.</p> <p>Moira smirked, turning to Smith. “See? That’s all you needed to do. Now we can get somewhere in this.”</p> <p>“Right,” Dr Smith said, through gritted teeth.</p> <p>“Alright. I’m going to ask you questions. One tap for no, two for yes. Three if you don’t know. Got it?”</p> <p>Two taps.</p> <p>“Good.”</p> <p>Moira took Dr Smith’s place, smiling pleasantly. Kiera let her feathers lay flat.</p> <p>“Do you know how you got to our world?”</p> <p>Yes.</p> <p>“Good. Do you know where you are, geographically speaking?”</p> <p>No.</p> <p>“Are there humans - hominids, whichever you please - developed like us - in your world or time?”</p> <p>No.</p> <p>“Alright. I’m going to say a list of words. In case you’re curious, this is a modified form of Vocabulary-focused IQ testing. In this case, we’re trying to see how much you understand about our world. Raise your left front limb if you recognise something. Like this,” she demonstrated. Kiera mirrored the action, feeling a ripple of pleasure at Smith’s increasingly agitated expression.</p> <p>“Abate.”</p> <p>Kiera raised her claw.</p> <hr/> <p>“Okay,” the newest Doctor sat across from her, holding a stack of paper and a pen. “Here you go.” They were younger, short choppy purple hair and eyes lined with kohl and an apparent lack of sleep. Kiera ran through her usual analysis - species, height estimation, gender, prominent features. She wondered if they had guessed that she was studying them, as much as they were trying to study her.</p> <p>“I’m Doctor Lost,” Dr Lost said, nervously. Their eyes flitted around the room slightly. “Uh. You don’t need to know that, though? Sorry.”</p> <p>Kiera ignored them, grabbing the paper. Oh, Sweet Sanador, this was it. The pen felt like home in her talons.</p> <p>She began immediately drawing. Dr Lost sat silently, tapping their foot against the ground - then slowly, leaning over, curiosity winning out. “Oh golly… is this… Quantum Electrodynamics?”</p> <p>Kiera looked up, surprised. She’d been diagramming the basic calculations she’d used to convert energy to a medium and direction that it could travel through both space and time. And yes, Quantum Electrodynamics - a perfect mix of quantum mechanics and special relativity - were part of that.</p> <p>“Yes.” She’d figured out in the past couple days, how to make what could be understood as words.</p> <p>“You’re…” Dr Lost looked down again. “That’s the Doppler Shift. And that’s… holy shit.”</p> <p>Kiera glowed.</p> <p>Finally. <em>Finally.</em></p> <p>She was getting somewhere.</p> <p>The theory was fairly simple, in it’s core. In essence, there were an infinite number of alternative timelines. These were separated into layers, called timeline clusters, which each had a set of percentages attached to them.</p> <p>The beginning of her theory had been simple.</p> <p>In 100% of timelines, the universe exists.</p> <p>From there, it went into guesswork and complex equations that you had to peel yourself out of when you were done with them, or else they’d stick to your mind and lose their sense of meaning. About 15% of universes contained the Milky Way Solar System - the Milky Way cluster, she’d termed it. Then, there were splits for each major historical event - by multiplying a certain set of parameters against each other (.000045 (the % for Earth’s existence) x .0000021 (the % for life evolving) would work as the equation for the cluster of timelines containing only those two events) they could find the exact percentage representing that universe cluster.</p> <p>From there, it got increasingly theoretical - for example, the Eclipseon Timeline, which they’d constructed and calculated for the sole purpose of acting as a secondary data point to their own.</p> <p>From listening to the doctor’s talk, Kiera’s current theory was that at some point, her species had undergone a mass extinction event, allowing for the current dominance shift. But up to that point (that point specifically being 𝜂(x) < 3 × 10<sup>-12</sup>), the development had been relatively similar.</p> <p>In other words.</p> <p>It had worked.</p> <p>Charlie, Ceelie, and Don had done it.</p> <p><em>She</em> had done it.</p> <p>But at what cost?</p> <hr/> <p>Agents London and Goddard - her containment specialists - led Kiera back down the hall to her cell, scanning their cards and letting her through. “You need anything, 317?” London asked, gruff in his demeanour as per usual.</p> <p>Yes.</p> <p>She needed her friends back. She needed to be home, with her sister and her nephew right now. She needed to talk to Hollatrix.</p> <p>Kiera shook her head, sighing.</p> <p>The Agents saluted, and left. And Kiera was alone again; save for the recording device tucked away in the ceiling corner. Homesickness was a cherry pit, rooted in her stomach and spreading its branches out. Weighing her down against her bed. She thumped her tail against the floor, flank prickling.</p> <p>She conjured her friends into her mind, letting their voices float up to her ears.</p> <p>“Kiki, you’ve got yourself into a proper damn mess,” she pictured her sisters familiar domed head, the faint red markings under her eyes. “I told you this was a bullshit job, right? Don’t answer- I did.”</p> <p>“I’m sorry, Ani,” Kiera whispered. In her head, Anika sniffed, turning away.</p> <p>Ceelie’s small frame was next, her five talons painted a dark purple, and her large blue eyes bright. But that was all she got. Just the images - Don, with his chipped head, and then Hollatrix with her dark purplish-grey feathers, the scar that dashed over her left eye. But no advice came - instead, Hollatrix simply slowly shook her head. Kiera’s head ached.</p> <p>And that was it.</p> <hr/> <p>“So, this is a converter-” Dr Moira, Dr Smith, and Dr Lost were huddled around Kiera’s table, talking with her as she fleshed out the rest of her diagram. They’d asked her to tell them more about the machine she’d come in. And so she was - on the condition that they’d help her repair it once she was done.</p> <p><em>Yes</em>, Kiera signed, frowned as she struggled for the next bit, and then shook her head before drawing it out, wincing as a pain dug itself into her gut. Her stomach had felt sore for most of the day - which made sense, given the quality of food here. She didn’t know how to bring it up though, so had decided to wait it out.</p> <p>She still hadn’t forgotten Charlie and her friends. After all, they were the reason she was cooperating with these creatures in the first place - well, aside from a stunning research opportunity. She needed to get back to them. She needed them to be safe.</p> <p>Kiera had nearly 40% of their diagrams redone, though. Circuitry had always been Ceelie’s thing (Kiera wasn’t a fan of being too close-and-personal with live wires, resulting from a specific incident involving an electric fence and her tail) and Don was the best with understanding particles. She had been the brains of the maths. And Charlie…</p> <p>Charlie had been all three, and maybe a fourth that xe wasn’t supposed to.</p> <p>But now she had to be all three. She had to do what Charlie had done. She had to solve all their equations backwards and forwards.</p> <p>Kiera had to get back home.</p> <hr/> <p>Things <em>hurt.</em></p> <p>It had started when she was walking back to her Containment cell with London - Goddard had called in sick, which had prompted Lost to make a joke about calling in dead, which no one laughed at.</p> <p>She was almost down the second hall, when the growing pain in her stomach flooded into a stabbing, churning agony.</p> <p>It had sent her down to the floor in a matter of seconds, London rushing to her side in a panic. The next had been a blur- Dr Moira at her side, asking her questions. Smith shouting on the phone. Lost panicking. And then she was in her bed, and the doctors were examining her, poking her, prodding her.</p> <p>Her head ached, her vision blurring.</p> <p>“Fuck- I think she’s had a stroke.” Hollatrix was over her, dark feathers wavery and distorted. “Someone call Med Staff. <em>Fuck</em>.”</p> <p>The ceiling was black like bullet rain.</p> <p>Scarlet fireworks flashed in her eyes.</p> <p>And darkness was her icy tomb.</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="/two-time">Two Time</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/two-time">https://scpwiki.com/two-time</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 sky was black like bullet rain, and Kiera lay gasping on the hard sandstone, vision blurred and flashing with scarlet fireworks. “Kiera,” Hollatrix took a cigarette from her maw. “Think. You’re a goddamn scientist.” Right. She was. She took a breath, the air scraping into her lungs in a struggle. The coarse steel faded, the sky revealing itself as blue ocean, as the blood flashes drained out of her eyes. “Thanks, imaginary-Hollatrix,” she whispered. She was well equipped with the theory, that was all and well. But that was just it - //theory//. //Theoretically//, the timeline had points where it split. //Theoretically//, there were alternate timelines to her own. And //theoretically//, their research might make it possible to perhaps access these timelines. And //possibly// and //might// and //perhaps// were the words that had been dangling her eyes, clouding her from seeing actual progress. Yes, perhaps it was possible. But not in her lifetime, certainly. But she had manufactured the machine, and she’d done the maths. Ceelie and Don had helped her with the maths, Ceelie’s tail thumping against the floor when she was thinking hard, and Don muttering to himself in a near constant drone. Then Charlie came to the project, and everything went to shit from there. It wasn’t a //bad// thing. It was just that… Well, Charlie could do something that wasn’t just science. The first time it had happened, it had been almost too fast to process. They’d been all puzzling over an equation together, stumped beyond all reason, when xer face had screwed up, and suddenly the equation had rearranged, and the answer was sitting in the centre. Charlie had cheered, clapping xer talons together as xe shifted the numbers back to the main board. Ceelie and Don had turned to Kiera, eyes wide and feathers slightly flared out. But they hadn’t mentioned it. Charlie was too good to lose. But something had shifted, during those last few weeks. Charlie got more nervous, and things in the lab started to shift as their move swayed back and forth. A mug on the large auburn table, talon carved and inlaid with gold by Ceelie to mirror the night sky, would change from coffee to tea. A blue coat that Don had come to work in would leave as a red poncho. The week had started with that - and it had ended with Charlie sitting in front of their time machine, panting, as a low light began to emit a static hiss from inside it. And they’d done it. They’d succeeded. So why had it gone wrong then? They’d elected Kiera to test it - since she was the one who had teased the formula out, that got them funding from the University. She’d packed her things, and walked in- “Slow down,” Hollatrix’s voice played in her mind again - and Kiera took a breath, focusing herself back into the timeline. Going over everything, picking it apart, trying to find the gap. Kiera had stepped inside, and Don had begun inputting the coordinates, running them through the equation they’d found. The right inequality sequence, and- The machine had buzzed. They’d named the machine HoloTrix, after Hollatrix, who’d been their supervisor, and practically Kiera’s mom for the longest time; they used to all set their tails in the centre after a tricky research session, and shout “Go HoloTrix!”. That day, they didn’t do it. That day, when they were finishing adjusting the settings, the doors had burst open. And suddenly, a group of Raptors had swarmed the laboratory, grabbing their documents. Two grabbed Charlie’s arms, and held xem back. Charlie yowled, Don panicked. The team leader touched his ear, radioing in somewhere - his words were a jumble in her head, and all Kiera had really heard were the letters he said. “Beta-07, back to Site Command. We got em’. ACP is Contained.” Then Ceelie was shoving documents into Kiera’s bag, and Kiera was stumbling into the machine, and everything was blinking and rushing towards her and away from her at once- And then she was Here. The machine was broken. That was not a good start. And in the fiery nova that had crashed her here, the documents she’d been carrying had nearly been scorched to ash. Swearing, she stood up, and felt around - there. Her glasses had landed a few feet away, one of the lenses cracked, but the other intact. And she looked out. Here stretched a sandy cliff, overlooking a desert settlement. Here was a blinding sun and cornflower sky. Here was a deafening heat, and noise that pierced her ears - - the roar of distant machines. Here were stray clouds drifting and air that choked her lungs, making her turn and grab for the oxygen mask she’d packed. Where the fuck was she? “Hollatrix. Please. For Sanador’s sake, where the fuck are you?” Kiera whispered. Think. Think like a Scientist. Get that thick Pachy skull of yours into gear, Kiki. You have a PhD in Physics. You have an equation named after you. The Damindar Inequality. Right. She conjured that chart into her head, the idea of the universe back into frame. She wasn’t too far from home, statistically speaking- the presence of recognisable flora proved that. Searching the air, she spotted a small insect flitting past. Squinting through her still-working lens - a variety of //anisoptera//. Smaller than the ones she was familiar with - perhaps some sort of shift in genetics related to food chain organisation? A general shift in size? That made sense. So- run that through the major three percentage factors, plug it into the larger inequality (God, she needed a calculator), and… she was around Cluster Percentage 3 × 10^^-12^^. That meant that through reversal… This universe was in the cluster of those with 99% similarity. It had worked. The overlap was safe. Kiera took a deep breath. As a sharp needle embedded itself deep into her neck. ------ Kiera resisted the urge to clamp her ridged teeth onto the uniformed Doctor’s hand. “Explain it again- how did you get here?” His voice was flat and affectless. “And again- I //could// explain it, if you let me have paper,” Kiera hissed back, lashing her tail. The Doctor nodded, as if he understood. “Subject displaying agitation,” he noted into the recorder he held. “Progress seems to be unlikely. It is unclear whether any progress has been made towards the subject's understanding of human speech.” “It sure is gonna be, if you keep being this dense, fucking //hominoidea//,” Kiera spat in response. They’d taken all her possessions away when she’d woken up - her compass, journal (though that had been too scorched to salvage anyway), her robe and oxygen tank. They’d let her keep her glasses, and her enclosure was at least well-oxygenated enough that she could breathe. The machine was gone, of course. Kiera doubted she’d ever seen it again. But the drugging and containment hadn’t been the thing to set her off the edge. It had been the way they treated her. If they just let her have some paper, or let her touch any of the shiny tech they’d beeped and buzzed under her nose and over her feathers, she’d be fine (Oh god… her mouth practically watered at the thought of doing maths again). But instead, it was //this//. Being treated like she was stupid. “Here,” the doctor in the corner stepped in. Kiera surveyed it - Female Hominid, not at all close to any Hominoidea they had in Kiera’s timeline. Roughly 8.5- no, make that 8.75 talons tall. Skin was pale and fleshy, with a red fur growth protruding from her scalp. Body language indicated authority, though the other doctor seemed apprehensive to her. Kiera felt dizzy with the information input. Yet her analysis had been, as of now, the only thing keeping her sane. “SCP-317,” she began, gaze level to Kiera’s. “I’m Dr Moira. I’m the researcher in charge of you, along with Dr Lost, and Dr Smith.” She indicated the stern man who’d been carrying out the interviews up to that point. “I want you to tap the table twice if you can understand what I’m saying.” Kiera’s eyes widened. Leaning forwards, she tapped the table twice. Moira smirked, turning to Smith. “See? That’s all you needed to do. Now we can get somewhere in this.” “Right,” Dr Smith said, through gritted teeth. “Alright. I’m going to ask you questions. One tap for no, two for yes. Three if you don’t know. Got it?” Two taps. “Good.” Moira took Dr Smith’s place, smiling pleasantly. Kiera let her feathers lay flat. “Do you know how you got to our world?” Yes. “Good. Do you know where you are, geographically speaking?” No. “Are there humans - hominids, whichever you please - developed like us - in your world or time?” No. “Alright. I’m going to say a list of words. In case you’re curious, this is a modified form of Vocabulary-focused IQ testing. In this case, we’re trying to see how much you understand about our world. Raise your left front limb if you recognise something. Like this,” she demonstrated. Kiera mirrored the action, feeling a ripple of pleasure at Smith’s increasingly agitated expression. “Abate.” Kiera raised her claw. ------ “Okay,” the newest Doctor sat across from her, holding a stack of paper and a pen. “Here you go.” They were younger, short choppy purple hair and eyes lined with kohl and an apparent lack of sleep. Kiera ran through her usual analysis - species, height estimation, gender, prominent features. She wondered if they had guessed that she was studying them, as much as they were trying to study her. “I’m Doctor Lost,” Dr Lost said, nervously. Their eyes flitted around the room slightly. “Uh. You don’t need to know that, though? Sorry.” Kiera ignored them, grabbing the paper. Oh, Sweet Sanador, this was it. The pen felt like home in her talons. She began immediately drawing. Dr Lost sat silently, tapping their foot against the ground - then slowly, leaning over, curiosity winning out. “Oh golly… is this… Quantum Electrodynamics?” Kiera looked up, surprised. She’d been diagramming the basic calculations she’d used to convert energy to a medium and direction that it could travel through both space and time. And yes, Quantum Electrodynamics - a perfect mix of quantum mechanics and special relativity - were part of that. “Yes.” She’d figured out in the past couple days, how to make what could be understood as words. “You’re…” Dr Lost looked down again. “That’s the Doppler Shift. And that’s… holy shit.” Kiera glowed. Finally. //Finally.// She was getting somewhere. The theory was fairly simple, in it’s core. In essence, there were an infinite number of alternative timelines. These were separated into layers, called timeline clusters, which each had a set of percentages attached to them. The beginning of her theory had been simple. In 100% of timelines, the universe exists. From there, it went into guesswork and complex equations that you had to peel yourself out of when you were done with them, or else they’d stick to your mind and lose their sense of meaning. About 15% of universes contained the Milky Way Solar System - the Milky Way cluster, she’d termed it. Then, there were splits for each major historical event - by multiplying a certain set of parameters against each other (.000045 (the % for Earth’s existence) x .0000021 (the % for life evolving) would work as the equation for the cluster of timelines containing only those two events) they could find the exact percentage representing that universe cluster. From there, it got increasingly theoretical - for example, the Eclipseon Timeline, which they’d constructed and calculated for the sole purpose of acting as a secondary data point to their own. From listening to the doctor’s talk, Kiera’s current theory was that at some point, her species had undergone a mass extinction event, allowing for the current dominance shift. But up to that point (that point specifically being 𝜂(x) < 3 × 10^^-12^^), the development had been relatively similar. In other words. It had worked. Charlie, Ceelie, and Don had done it. //She// had done it. But at what cost? ------ Agents London and Goddard - her containment specialists - led Kiera back down the hall to her cell, scanning their cards and letting her through. “You need anything, 317?” London asked, gruff in his demeanour as per usual. Yes. She needed her friends back. She needed to be home, with her sister and her nephew right now. She needed to talk to Hollatrix. Kiera shook her head, sighing. The Agents saluted, and left. And Kiera was alone again; save for the recording device tucked away in the ceiling corner. Homesickness was a cherry pit, rooted in her stomach and spreading its branches out. Weighing her down against her bed. She thumped her tail against the floor, flank prickling. She conjured her friends into her mind, letting their voices float up to her ears. “Kiki, you’ve got yourself into a proper damn mess,” she pictured her sisters familiar domed head, the faint red markings under her eyes. “I told you this was a bullshit job, right? Don’t answer- I did.” “I’m sorry, Ani,” Kiera whispered. In her head, Anika sniffed, turning away. Ceelie’s small frame was next, her five talons painted a dark purple, and her large blue eyes bright. But that was all she got. Just the images - Don, with his chipped head, and then Hollatrix with her dark purplish-grey feathers, the scar that dashed over her left eye. But no advice came - instead, Hollatrix simply slowly shook her head. Kiera’s head ached. And that was it. ------ “So, this is a converter-” Dr Moira, Dr Smith, and Dr Lost were huddled around Kiera’s table, talking with her as she fleshed out the rest of her diagram. They’d asked her to tell them more about the machine she’d come in. And so she was - on the condition that they’d help her repair it once she was done. //Yes//, Kiera signed, frowned as she struggled for the next bit, and then shook her head before drawing it out, wincing as a pain dug itself into her gut. Her stomach had felt sore for most of the day - which made sense, given the quality of food here. She didn’t know how to bring it up though, so had decided to wait it out. She still hadn’t forgotten Charlie and her friends. After all, they were the reason she was cooperating with these creatures in the first place - well, aside from a stunning research opportunity. She needed to get back to them. She needed them to be safe. Kiera had nearly 40% of their diagrams redone, though. Circuitry had always been Ceelie’s thing (Kiera wasn’t a fan of being too close-and-personal with live wires, resulting from a specific incident involving an electric fence and her tail) and Don was the best with understanding particles. She had been the brains of the maths. And Charlie… Charlie had been all three, and maybe a fourth that xe wasn’t supposed to. But now she had to be all three. She had to do what Charlie had done. She had to solve all their equations backwards and forwards. Kiera had to get back home. ------ Things //hurt.// It had started when she was walking back to her Containment cell with London - Goddard had called in sick, which had prompted Lost to make a joke about calling in dead, which no one laughed at. She was almost down the second hall, when the growing pain in her stomach flooded into a stabbing, churning agony. It had sent her down to the floor in a matter of seconds, London rushing to her side in a panic. The next had been a blur- Dr Moira at her side, asking her questions. Smith shouting on the phone. Lost panicking. And then she was in her bed, and the doctors were examining her, poking her, prodding her. Her head ached, her vision blurring. “Fuck- I think she’s had a stroke.” Hollatrix was over her, dark feathers wavery and distorted. “Someone call Med Staff. //Fuck//.” The ceiling was black like bullet rain. Scarlet fireworks flashed in her eyes. And darkness was her icy tomb. [[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>]]	2023-09-12T17:00:00	[ "_licensebox", "action", "science-fiction", "tale", "the-twin-sites" ]	Two Time - SCP Foundation	9	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1449965971	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/two-time
urgent-commission-of-inquiry-into-worldwide-paranormal-event	<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> <div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><span class="odate time_1736645042 format_%25Y%2F%25m%2F%25d">12 Jan 2025 01:24</span>.</p> </div> </div> <p>In view of the insecurity that reigns among governments, in view of the uncertainty that hangs over the future, in view of the imminent catastrophes, in view of the secrets that are about to come out, in view of the tense situations in every corner of the globe, in view of the outbreaks of armed violence that are becoming more and more frequent, and in view of the increase in paranormal events all over the planet, the members of the Group of Seven (G7) and the permanent members of the United Nations Security Council,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> have decided to meet in the company of the Administrator of the SCP Foundation as well as the Under-Secretary-General of the global occult coalition of the United Nations. Their meeting took place in a secure room in the Paul-Henri-Spaak Building, the European Parliament's hemicycle, in the Belgian city of Brussels. As Belgium was not a member of the G7, nor a permanent member of the UN Security Council, it hosted the meeting, and one of its representatives chaired it so that all the dignitary countries could enjoy equal speaking and decision-making rights.</p> <p>The European Parliament's security agents and the secret services of the various countries present, as well as MTF Alpha-1 "Red Right Hand" and Strike Team 3707 "Presidential Motorcade", provided security for all the dignitaries present.</p> <p>The representatives of each country were identified according to the following framework: R-Country.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></p> <p>Some portions of the transcript were omitted for brevity.</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Minutes Of The Proceedings</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Close</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="danke agent"> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text.</span> <strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Urgent Commission of Inquiry into Worldwide Paranormal Events</span></strong></p> <p>\| Chairman: Mr. Achille Van Acker<br/> \| Location: Paul-Henri-Spaak Building, Brussels<br/> \| Dignitaries: G7 countries, permanent members of the UN Security Council, United Nations Global Occult Coalition, the SCP Foundation.</p> <p>1. Attendance recording.<br/> 2. Opening remarks: The Administrator - SCP Foundation.<br/> 3. Debate on the opening remarks.<br/> 4. Reconfirmation that the SCP Foundation is not subject to any government regulations.<br/> 5. Reconfirmation that the UNGOC is not subject to any government regulations.<br/> 6. Concerns about the recurrence of paranormal events worldwide. (R-US)<br/> 7. Debate on the measures to be taken.<br/> 8. Debate on the possibility of public exposure to paranormal events and institutions.<br/> 9. Additional points.<br/> 10. Closing speech. (R-R)<br/> 11. Date and time of next meeting (if necessary).<br/> 12. Closing of the meeting.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats, we're about to start.</p> <p><em>The few representatives still standing sit down.</em></p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> To get things off to a good start, I'm going to ask you all to identify yourselves and the country you represent. I'll give you an example. My name is Achille Van Acker, Chairman of the Commission, of the Kingdom of Belgium.</p> <p><strong>R-F:</strong> Léon Dussault, representing the French Republic.</p> <p><strong>R-Ch:</strong> Zhao Guangdong, from the People's Republic of China.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-R:</strong> Maksim Varfolomeyev, representative of the Russian Federation.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-Ca:</strong> Christopher Leclerc, representing the Canadian governement.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> The Administrator, from the SCP Foundation.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> I will remind everyone that the "Administrator" is going to be referred to by its title during our future work. Continue, please.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-I:</strong> Alessandra Capozzi, of the Republic of Italy.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-G:</strong> Bertolt Weber, I'll be representing the Federal Republic of Germany.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> D.C. al Fine, Under-Secretary-General of the United Nations Global Occult Coalition.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-J:</strong> Kana Yoshida, from Japan.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-UK:</strong> Edward Addams, representing the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland in the name of His Majesty.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-US:</strong> Jonathan Brown, from the United States of America.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Perfect, thank you, everyone. Did everyone read the agenda correctly? We can therefore proceed with this meeting. To begin, I would like to invite the Administrator to take the floor in order to set the tone.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Ladies and gentlemen, in these troubled times, I feel obliged once again to reassure each and every one of you. Whatever the geopolitical turmoil in the human world, I can assure you that our organization will be able to protect us from any anomalies that may arise in the future.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-US:</strong> Mr. Administrator, a large part of our budgets, as well as those of many other governments around the world, are allocated to you, and yet we're not even allowed to see the results! How can you guarantee that this money is really being used for protection and research?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-R:</strong> What's even the point of research? You may find me cold, but it seems to me that if anomalies are disrupting our society, they should be eliminated! Base yourself on the GOC!<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> Gentlemen, gentlemen. Have no fear. Your money is being put to good use. And for your guarantee, ask yourself this: Are supernatural entities destroying your cities? The simple answer is no. Because the Foundation is there. As for our research, you should know we are cold, not cruel. We won't destroy every living species or ancient artifact just because you're too cheap to provide us with the money to preserve them.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Please, do not attribute words with negative connotations to the delegates present. This will not be tolerated.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> The research we carry out ensures that we learn more about the paranormal world every day, and enable us to better protect the public. Knowledge is a weapon. And an efficient one.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-Ch:</strong> Do we really need you?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> I'm sorry?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-Ch:</strong> Why are you necessary to us? The GOC is protecting us from abnormalities as much as you do while costing us much less. Don't you think we could do without you?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> Now I will tell you something about the GOC. The only reason they seem to be doing a good job is because we're taking care of everything they're not doing. The only reason the GOC still exists is because we <em>allow</em> them to exist.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> Mr. Chairman, please! The SCP Foundation cannot continue to look down on us like this.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> This meeting should be about cooperation, let me remind you of that. Yes, Mr. Dussault?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-F:</strong> We are here today because we all want one thing: to protect the human race. And we can never achieve that alone. Let's put an end to our political disagreements. The GOC, the SCP Foundation. These organizations exist and are not about to disappear. The debate we need to have is not about the existence or legitimacy of these organizations, but rather about our cooperation with them.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Thank you! Mr. Leclerc, you have the floor.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-Ca:</strong> Thank you, Mr. Chairman. As we all know, the GOC is a public institution. It is subventionned by the governments of the world, via the United Nations. Now, the SCP Foundation is a private institution. It is subventionned, yes by us, governments, but mostly via its own means.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> Are you suggesting an alliance with <em>these</em> people?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> I will remind you that the floor is for the Canadian representative, not you. Continue.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-Ca:</strong> What I'm saying is that the SCP Foundation has the knowledge, has the expertise, and has the most powerful minds on the planet. In the meantime, the GOC has the resources, the diplomatic connections, and the support of the countries of the world, as well as that of the Council of 108.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-J:</strong> An alliance between the two would make the most powerful organization!<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-Ca:</strong> Exactly.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> Sorry to interrupt, but that couldn't work. We have too many differences on too many subjects.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-G:</strong> What are those differences? How could they make it impossible for the two organizations to act as one?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> The usage of expendable personnel. The ''Class-Ds''. We strongly reject the violation of the Human Rights that the Foundation commits daily, and I hereby am asking this commission to do something about it! We can't let the Founda…<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> The sacrifice of these people is necessary. They do not suffer. Well, they do, but not unnecessarily. They are the only thing that keeps the world a livable place.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> You have no remorses, you monster. Go to hell!<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Order! If you can't contain yourself, you'll be kicked out of the meeting. This is your last warning. And that applies to all of you. Mrs. Capozzi, you have the floor. This is the last interaction about item 3 of the agenda.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>R-I:</strong> I think the usage of Class-Ds could be reduced, even eliminated, in the event of a coalition between the SCP Foundation and the GOC. This project has my vote.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> I won't express myself on that point, otherwise I'll be seen as vulgar.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Alright. We're going to take a break in order to regain control of our emotions. After this break, we will resume the meeting with item 4 of the agenda, and no deviation will be tolerated.</p> </blockquote> <p>The Administrator is escorted out of the room by MTF Alpha-1. Under-Secretary-General D.C. al Fine promptly imitates him, followed by Strike Team 3707. The rest of the dignitaries present decided to remain seated and talk amongst themselves. Chairman Van Acker can be seen on the phone in a corner of the room, presumably in conversation with His Majesty the King of the Belgians.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h3 id="toc0"><span>05-13</span></h3> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Fucking D.C al Fine</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Things aren't going our way, I see.</span><br/> <span class="text">You care explaining?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">I don't have a lot of time.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">The Administrator's job is that hard?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Could be better.</span><br/> <span class="text">The meeting had barely begun and it had turned sour.</span><br/> <span class="text">They aren't trusting us as much as they did, I'm afraid..</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Don't worry. They need us.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">That's what scares me.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Everyone ready to start again? I remind you that any deviation will not be tolerated, and I reserve the right to expel anyone who makes a disturbance. Understood?</p> <p><em>The representatives nod in affirmation.</em></p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Ladies and gentlemen, in view of the ethical issues and the lack of confidence in the world of paranormal organizations, we are going to proceed to a vote about the SCP Foundation. Before we proceed to the vote, I invite you to debate the following question: <em>Should the SCP Foundation remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?</em> Mr. Guangdong, I would like to invite you to take the floor.</p> <p><strong>R-Ch:</strong> Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I'd like to remind you all that although some of the practices of the SCP Foundation are… questionable, we mustn't forget that these practices are designed to protect the human race. To ensure the common good.</p> <p><strong>R-G</strong> Even if our government has decided that the actions of the SCP Foundation are a direct violation of human rights or even a series of crimes against humanity, we are still unable to regulate their actions. Although many of us have little confidence in the Foundation, we cannot risk alienating them. It's difficult to trust you completely. No offenses.</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> None taken. I totally understand why you would be reluctant to accept our ideals and our methods. I can assure you that I would invite you all to visit our facilities if it didn't endanger our work and humanity as a whole.</p> <p><strong>R-J:</strong> And there is not a <em>single</em> facility we could visit? Not one?</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> If that was the case, you would already have visited it. I assure you, I'm deeply sorry that our work is so sensitive. And restricted.</p> <p><strong>R-UK:</strong> The SCP Foundation has my complete trust. I know that certain methods may be seen as horrible by some governments, but I see them as necessary.</p> <p><strong>R-I:</strong> They don't have my trust, but I too feel like they are necessary.</p> <p><strong>R-R:</strong> We must not forget that the GOC could be more heavily funded, and could counter-balance the SCP Foundation.</p> <p><strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> Not counter-balance. Control. If you would just fund us more, we could be able to control the Foundation. The GOC already has your trust, and ethical debates would not be necessary!</p> <p><strong>R-Ca:</strong> As much as I love the GOC, you could not do the job the SCP Foundation is doing. I thank you for your services, but don't expect anything else.</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> I do believe in the GOC. Sorry, but the SCP Foundation doesn't represent our ideals of American freedom.</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> I'm going to stop the debate here. I'll hand out some pieces of paper, and then we'll move on to the vote.</p> <p><em>Chairman Van Acker is seen distributing pieces of paper across the table.</em></p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> I'll repeat the question. <em>Should the SCP Foundation remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?</em> Your choices are Yea, Nay, Abstain.</p> <p><em>The representatives fill in their votes, and then Chairman Van Acker collects each paper.</em></p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Let me count the votes. Then I'll display the results on the screen to your right.</p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <div class="addendum"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>UCIWPE/SCP Voting</th> </tr> </table> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: #5f95e6">█</span> Yea: 63.63% (7) \| <span style="color: #dc0000">█</span> Nay: 27.27% (3) \| <span style="color: #caca27">█</span> Abstain: 9.09% (1) \| █ Absent: 0.00% (0)</span></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Vote Summary: <span style="color: #5f95e6">The SCP Foundation is to remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as it did.</span></strong></p> </div> <br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Thank you for your cooperation. Moving on to item 5 of the agenda. I invite you to debate the following question: <em>Should the United Nations Global Occult Coalition remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?</em> <p><strong>Representatives:</strong> …</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Does anyone have an opinion on this matter?</p> <p><strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> I just want to make it clear that the Global Occult Coalition is always ready to defend humanity against all foes. We will serve you with honor and respect.</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> I'm going to tell you that I'm going to answer "Yea" in the vote. The GOC still protects us against <em>some</em> things. I respect that, and them.</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Well, since everyone seems to have their opinion set in stone, we'll move on to the vote.</p> <p><em>Chairman Van Acker is seen once again distributing pieces of paper across the table.</em></p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> I'll repeat the question. <em>Should the United Nations Global Occult Coalition remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?</em> Your choices still are Yea, Nay, Abstain.</p> <p><em>The representatives fill in their votes, and then Chairman Van Acker collects each paper.</em><br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> Let me count the votes once again. Then I'll display the results on the screen.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <div class="addendum"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>UCIWPE/GOC Voting</th> </tr> </table> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: #5f95e6">█</span> Yea: 100.00% (11) \| <span style="color: #dc0000">█</span> Nay: 00.00% (0) \| <span style="color: #caca27">█</span> Abstain: 00.00% (0) \| █ Absent: 00.00% (0)</span></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>Vote Summary: <span style="color: #5f95e6">The United Nations Global Occult Coalition is to remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as it did.</span></strong></p> </div> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> I'm glad we finally can agree on something. We will once again take a little break. Thanks for your cooperation.</p> </blockquote> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h3 id="toc1"><span>05-13</span></h3> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Wait wait wait. You're telling me you voted ''Yea'' on the GOC thingy?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Precisely.</span><br/> <span class="text">Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">But why??</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">The GOC is necessary.</span><br/> <span class="text">They help us sometimes. And nonetheless, they still can protect the world from us. If we ever. Y'a know.</span><br/> <span class="text">And their existence reassures governments. Makes them think they can have a word against us.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Good points. Alright, I trust you on this.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">I know.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Now we're going to start again. Don't worry, we're nearly finished. Mr. Brown, you have the floor on item 6 of the agenda. Following Mr Brown's words, we will proceed with the debate.</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> Thank you, Mr. Chairman. As you all know, worldwide paranormal events are constantly on the rise. More and more people are witnessing these events and becoming victims of these abnormalities. I know you're supposed to be handing out amnestics to the people affected, but how can you be sure that all the people affected by these events are actually being treated? And more and more anomalies are appearing. How can you contain them so quickly and effectively? I don't want to be an alarmist, but I think you need to be prepared for your Foundation to come out in the open!</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> This possibility will be examined on item 8 of the agenda. We're still on item 6: <em>Concerns about the recurrence of worldwide paranormal events.</em> Please, stay on this subject to ensure that the meeting runs smoothly. Continue.</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> What I'm trying to say is that every day the world becomes riskier.</p> <p><strong>R-Ca:</strong> And we would all love to hear what the GOC and the SCP Foundation are doing about it.</p> <p><strong>R-G:</strong> Now that you are talking about it, it does sound like things are not as under control as you tell us.</p> <p><strong>R-I:</strong> Indeed. It seems like we are more in danger than ever.</p> <p><strong>R-J:</strong> How many SCPs have you contained? Seven hundred, something like that? Now imagine how much aren't contained!</p> <p><strong>R-F:</strong> Makes you wonder if we actually are protected against these things!</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> We can now move on to item 7 of the agenda.<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>The Administrator:</strong> Do you want to address this?</p> <p><strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> Well I could. Do not be aware. We, the GOC, are actively terminating parathreats as we speak, and many are being observed by our services! This increase in worldwide paranormal events is under control, and soon we'll flatten the curve. Planet Earth is safe with us.</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> Mrs. al Fine is right. This situation is totally under control. If things were going sour, you would already know it. We took an oath to protect the human race. If we had any problem doing that, we would have already asked you for help.</p> <p><strong>R-R:</strong> I'm not convinced.</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> Maybe. But you still are protected. We die in the dark so you can live in the light.</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Does anyone else wish to speak? No? Then we'll move on to item 8.</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> If I may continue on what I was saying on this before?<br/> <span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span><br/> <strong>Chairman:</strong> You may.</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> If your Foundation is to come out in the open, what is your plan?</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> A Broken Masqu… A revelation of our Foundation to the world has been discussed many times internally, and we now know how we will manage this situation.</p> <p><strong>R-UK:</strong> Details?</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> No.</p> <p><strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> The GOC, for its part, is a governmental organization. As such, we already are entrusted by a lot of people, and the GOC being brought under the spotlight would be easily dealt with.</p> <p><strong>R-UK:</strong> The GOC isn't the problem here. Mr. Administrator, do you seriously expect us to blindly trust you, without having any information or details about your work?</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> Precisely.</p> <p><strong>R-UK:</strong> Go fuck yourse…</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Order! That kind of language will not be tolerated, Mr. Addams!</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> Your confidence is needed if you want everything to go well.</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> I think that's all for item 8? Right? Perfect, moving on to item 9 of the agenda. Does anyone have anything else to add for today?</p> <p><strong>Representatives:</strong> …</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Alright, let's move on to item 10, the closing speech. Mr. Varfolomeyev, you have the floor.</p> <p><strong>R-R:</strong> Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Ladies and gentlemen, if you are here today, if I am here today, it's because we have an objective in common. This objective is the protection of the human race, and is a noble cause! Even if we all disagreed on something, I must thank you all, and thank your respective governments, for doing so much work to protect our populations. Even if we all have resentments towards each other, let's try to ignore them. Let's respect and thank each other.</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Thank you, Mr. Varfolomeyev! Date and time of the next meeting, now.</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> Is it necessary to have a next meeting?</p> <p><strong>Chairman:</strong> Are there any objections to not scheduling another meeting at this time? Very well, I therefore declare this meeting closed. Thank you all!</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> I have one last question for Mr. Administrator.</p> <p><strong>The Administrator:</strong> Yes?</p> <p><strong>R-US:</strong> How is the Chaos Insurgency doing?</p> <p><strong>D.C. al Fine:</strong> The <em>what</em>?</p> </blockquote> <p>The Administrator gets up and quickly leaves the room, closely followed by MTF Alpha-1.</p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h3 id="toc2"><span>05-13</span></h3> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">How THE FUCK does he know about the Chaos Insurgency</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">WHAT??</span><br/> <span class="text">Who?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Jonathan Brown. The American representative.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">What did he say??</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">The son of a bitch</span><br/> <span class="text">As soon as the meeting ended he asked me ''How's the Chaos Insurgency going?"</span><br/> <span class="text">The existence of the Chaos Insurgency is heavily classified, how can he know??</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Wait gimme a sec</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Be quick.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h3 id="toc3"><span>05-13</span></h3> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Fucking hell. I have bad news.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">What?</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">WHAT???</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Jonathan Brown. He isn't real.</span><br/> <span class="text">The American representative who was supposed to be there was named Markus Beater</span><br/> <span class="text">And he was found fucking dead in his hotel room this morning</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">So I just spent an entire meeting with a goi op???</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Fuck I think so. Don't worry we will figure this out and sooner or later catch this ''Mr. Brown''.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">We better find this motherfucker, and PRETTY FUCKING QUICK</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></p> <p><span style="color: transparent">Your text here.</span></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>. i.e. France, China, Russia, Canada, Italy, Germany, Japan, the United-Kingdom and the United States.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. E.g.: Representative-France = R-F</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 CSS]] :root { --header-title: "SCP FOUNDATION"; --header-subtitle: "From the desk of the Administrator"; --lgurl: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Athe-way-out/logo.png"); --accentColor: 30, 181, 232; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[module css]] .danke { padding: 5px; margin-bottom:10px; font-family: monospace; font-size: 1.1em; } .agent { background-color:#002200; border: 3px solid #55AA55; color: #77CC77; } .site { background-color:#222200; border: 3px solid #AAAA55; color: #DDDD77; } [[/module]] [[module ListPages limit="1" category="" order="updated_at desc"]] %%updated_at\|%Y/%m/%d%%. [[/module]] In view of the insecurity that reigns among governments, in view of the uncertainty that hangs over the future, in view of the imminent catastrophes, in view of the secrets that are about to come out, in view of the tense situations in every corner of the globe, in view of the outbreaks of armed violence that are becoming more and more frequent, and in view of the increase in paranormal events all over the planet, the members of the Group of Seven (G7) and the permanent members of the United Nations Security Council, [[footnote]] i.e. France, China, Russia, Canada, Italy, Germany, Japan, the United-Kingdom and the United States.[[/footnote]] have decided to meet in the company of the Administrator of the SCP Foundation as well as the Under-Secretary-General of the global occult coalition of the United Nations. Their meeting took place in a secure room in the Paul-Henri-Spaak Building, the European Parliament's hemicycle, in the Belgian city of Brussels. As Belgium was not a member of the G7, nor a permanent member of the UN Security Council, it hosted the meeting, and one of its representatives chaired it so that all the dignitary countries could enjoy equal speaking and decision-making rights. The European Parliament's security agents and the secret services of the various countries present, as well as MTF Alpha-1 "Red Right Hand" and Strike Team 3707 "Presidential Motorcade", provided security for all the dignitaries present. The representatives of each country were identified according to the following framework: R-Country.[[footnote]] E.g.: Representative-France = R-F [[/footnote]] Some portions of the transcript were omitted for brevity. [[collapsible show="+ Minutes Of The Proceedings" hide="- Close"]] [[div class="danke agent"]] ##transparent\|Your text.## __Urgent Commission of Inquiry into Worldwide Paranormal Events__* \| Chairman: Mr. Achille Van Acker \| Location: Paul-Henri-Spaak Building, Brussels \| Dignitaries: G7 countries, permanent members of the UN Security Council, United Nations Global Occult Coalition, the SCP Foundation. 1. Attendance recording. 2. Opening remarks: The Administrator - SCP Foundation. 3. Debate on the opening remarks. 4. Reconfirmation that the SCP Foundation is not subject to any government regulations. 5. Reconfirmation that the UNGOC is not subject to any government regulations. 6. Concerns about the recurrence of paranormal events worldwide. (R-US) 7. Debate on the measures to be taken. 8. Debate on the possibility of public exposure to paranormal events and institutions. 9. Additional points. 10. Closing speech. (R-R) 11. Date and time of next meeting (if necessary). 12. Closing of the meeting. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ##transparent\|Your text here.## > > > Chairman: Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats, we're about to start. > > //The few representatives still standing sit down.// > > Chairman: To get things off to a good start, I'm going to ask you all to identify yourselves and the country you represent. I'll give you an example. My name is Achille Van Acker, Chairman of the Commission, of the Kingdom of Belgium. > > R-F: Léon Dussault, representing the French Republic. > > R-Ch: Zhao Guangdong, from the People's Republic of China. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-R: Maksim Varfolomeyev, representative of the Russian Federation. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-Ca: Christopher Leclerc, representing the Canadian governement. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: The Administrator, from the SCP Foundation. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: I will remind everyone that the "Administrator" is going to be referred to by its title during our future work. Continue, please. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-I: Alessandra Capozzi, of the Republic of Italy. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-G: Bertolt Weber, I'll be representing the Federal Republic of Germany. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > D.C. al Fine: D.C. al Fine, Under-Secretary-General of the United Nations Global Occult Coalition. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-J: Kana Yoshida, from Japan. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-UK: Edward Addams, representing the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland in the name of His Majesty. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-US: Jonathan Brown, from the United States of America. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Perfect, thank you, everyone. Did everyone read the agenda correctly? We can therefore proceed with this meeting. To begin, I would like to invite the Administrator to take the floor in order to set the tone. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Ladies and gentlemen, in these troubled times, I feel obliged once again to reassure each and every one of you. Whatever the geopolitical turmoil in the human world, I can assure you that our organization will be able to protect us from any anomalies that may arise in the future. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-US: Mr. Administrator, a large part of our budgets, as well as those of many other governments around the world, are allocated to you, and yet we're not even allowed to see the results! How can you guarantee that this money is really being used for protection and research? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-R: What's even the point of research? You may find me cold, but it seems to me that if anomalies are disrupting our society, they should be eliminated! Base yourself on the GOC! > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: Gentlemen, gentlemen. Have no fear. Your money is being put to good use. And for your guarantee, ask yourself this: Are supernatural entities destroying your cities? The simple answer is no. Because the Foundation is there. As for our research, you should know we are cold, not cruel. We won't destroy every living species or ancient artifact just because you're too cheap to provide us with the money to preserve them. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Please, do not attribute words with negative connotations to the delegates present. This will not be tolerated. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: The research we carry out ensures that we learn more about the paranormal world every day, and enable us to better protect the public. Knowledge is a weapon. And an efficient one. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-Ch: Do we really need you? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: I'm sorry? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-Ch: Why are you necessary to us? The GOC is protecting us from abnormalities as much as you do while costing us much less. Don't you think we could do without you? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: Now I will tell you something about the GOC. The only reason they seem to be doing a good job is because we're taking care of everything they're not doing. The only reason the GOC still exists is because we //allow// them to exist. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > D.C. al Fine: Mr. Chairman, please! The SCP Foundation cannot continue to look down on us like this. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: This meeting should be about cooperation, let me remind you of that. Yes, Mr. Dussault? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-F: We are here today because we all want one thing: to protect the human race. And we can never achieve that alone. Let's put an end to our political disagreements. The GOC, the SCP Foundation. These organizations exist and are not about to disappear. The debate we need to have is not about the existence or legitimacy of these organizations, but rather about our cooperation with them. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Thank you! Mr. Leclerc, you have the floor. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-Ca: Thank you, Mr. Chairman. As we all know, the GOC is a public institution. It is subventionned by the governments of the world, via the United Nations. Now, the SCP Foundation is a private institution. It is subventionned, yes by us, governments, but mostly via its own means. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > D.C. al Fine: Are you suggesting an alliance with //these// people? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: I will remind you that the floor is for the Canadian representative, not you. Continue. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-Ca: What I'm saying is that the SCP Foundation has the knowledge, has the expertise, and has the most powerful minds on the planet. In the meantime, the GOC has the resources, the diplomatic connections, and the support of the countries of the world, as well as that of the Council of 108. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-J: An alliance between the two would make the most powerful organization! > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-Ca: Exactly. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: Sorry to interrupt, but that couldn't work. We have too many differences on too many subjects. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-G: What are those differences? How could they make it impossible for the two organizations to act as one? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > D.C. al Fine: The usage of expendable personnel. The ''Class-Ds''. We strongly reject the violation of the Human Rights that the Foundation commits daily, and I hereby am asking this commission to do something about it! We can't let the Founda... > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: The sacrifice of these people is necessary. They do not suffer. Well, they do, but not unnecessarily. They are the only thing that keeps the world a livable place. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > D.C. al Fine: You have no remorses, you monster. Go to hell! > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Order! If you can't contain yourself, you'll be kicked out of the meeting. This is your last warning. And that applies to all of you. Mrs. Capozzi, you have the floor. This is the last interaction about item 3 of the agenda. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > R-I: I think the usage of Class-Ds could be reduced, even eliminated, in the event of a coalition between the SCP Foundation and the GOC. This project has my vote. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > D.C. al Fine: I won't express myself on that point, otherwise I'll be seen as vulgar. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Alright. We're going to take a break in order to regain control of our emotions. After this break, we will resume the meeting with item 4 of the agenda, and no deviation will be tolerated. > The Administrator is escorted out of the room by MTF Alpha-1. Under-Secretary-General D.C. al Fine promptly imitates him, followed by Strike Team 3707. The rest of the dignitaries present decided to remain seated and talk amongst themselves. Chairman Van Acker can be seen on the phone in a corner of the room, presumably in conversation with His Majesty the King of the Belgians. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] +++ 05-13 [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Fucking D.C al Fine[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Things aren't going our way, I see.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]You care explaining?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]I don't have a lot of time.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]The Administrator's job is that hard?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Could be better.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]The meeting had barely begun and it had turned sour.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]They aren't trusting us as much as they did, I'm afraid..[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Don't worry. They need us.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]That's what scares me.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ##transparent\|Your text here.## ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Everyone ready to start again? I remind you that any deviation will not be tolerated, and I reserve the right to expel anyone who makes a disturbance. Understood? > > //The representatives nod in affirmation.// > > Chairman: Ladies and gentlemen, in view of the ethical issues and the lack of confidence in the world of paranormal organizations, we are going to proceed to a vote about the SCP Foundation. Before we proceed to the vote, I invite you to debate the following question: //Should the SCP Foundation remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?// Mr. Guangdong, I would like to invite you to take the floor. > > R-Ch: Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I'd like to remind you all that although some of the practices of the SCP Foundation are... questionable, we mustn't forget that these practices are designed to protect the human race. To ensure the common good. > > R-G Even if our government has decided that the actions of the SCP Foundation are a direct violation of human rights or even a series of crimes against humanity, we are still unable to regulate their actions. Although many of us have little confidence in the Foundation, we cannot risk alienating them. It's difficult to trust you completely. No offenses. > > The Administrator: None taken. I totally understand why you would be reluctant to accept our ideals and our methods. I can assure you that I would invite you all to visit our facilities if it didn't endanger our work and humanity as a whole. > > R-J: And there is not a //single// facility we could visit? Not one? > > The Administrator: If that was the case, you would already have visited it. I assure you, I'm deeply sorry that our work is so sensitive. And restricted. > > R-UK: The SCP Foundation has my complete trust. I know that certain methods may be seen as horrible by some governments, but I see them as necessary. > > R-I: They don't have my trust, but I too feel like they are necessary. > > R-R: We must not forget that the GOC could be more heavily funded, and could counter-balance the SCP Foundation. > > D.C. al Fine: Not counter-balance. Control. If you would just fund us more, we could be able to control the Foundation. The GOC already has your trust, and ethical debates would not be necessary! > > R-Ca: As much as I love the GOC, you could not do the job the SCP Foundation is doing. I thank you for your services, but don't expect anything else. > > R-US: I do believe in the GOC. Sorry, but the SCP Foundation doesn't represent our ideals of American freedom. > > Chairman: I'm going to stop the debate here. I'll hand out some pieces of paper, and then we'll move on to the vote. > > //Chairman Van Acker is seen distributing pieces of paper across the table.// > > Chairman: I'll repeat the question. //Should the SCP Foundation remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?// Your choices are Yea, Nay, Abstain. > > //The representatives fill in their votes, and then Chairman Van Acker collects each paper.// > > Chairman: Let me count the votes. Then I'll display the results on the screen to your right. > > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > [[div class="addendum"]] > \|\|~ UCIWPE/SCP Voting \|\| > = [[size 85%]]##5f95e6\|█## Yea: 63.63% (7) \| ##dc0000\|█## Nay: 27.27% (3) \| ##caca27\|█## Abstain: 9.09% (1) \| █ Absent: 0.00% (0)[[/size]] > > = Vote Summary: ##5f95e6\|The SCP Foundation is to remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as it did.## > [[/div]] > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > > Chairman: Thank you for your cooperation. Moving on to item 5 of the agenda. I invite you to debate the following question: //Should the United Nations Global Occult Coalition remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?// > > Representatives: ... > > Chairman: Does anyone have an opinion on this matter? > > D.C. al Fine: I just want to make it clear that the Global Occult Coalition is always ready to defend humanity against all foes. We will serve you with honor and respect. > > The Administrator: I'm going to tell you that I'm going to answer "Yea" in the vote. The GOC still protects us against //some// things. I respect that, and them. > > Chairman: Well, since everyone seems to have their opinion set in stone, we'll move on to the vote. > > //Chairman Van Acker is seen once again distributing pieces of paper across the table.// > > Chairman: I'll repeat the question. //Should the United Nations Global Occult Coalition remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as before this meeting?// Your choices still are Yea, Nay, Abstain. > > //The representatives fill in their votes, and then Chairman Van Acker collects each paper.// > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Let me count the votes once again. Then I'll display the results on the screen. > > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > > [[div class="addendum"]] > \|\|~ UCIWPE/GOC Voting \|\| > = [[size 85%]]##5f95e6\|█## Yea: 100.00% (11) \| ##dc0000\|█## Nay: 00.00% (0) \| ##caca27\|█## Abstain: 00.00% (0) \| █ Absent: 00.00% (0)[[/size]] > > = Vote Summary: ##5f95e6\|The United Nations Global Occult Coalition is to remain exempt from the law, and continue to operate in the same way as it did.## > [[/div]] > > Chairman: I'm glad we finally can agree on something. We will once again take a little break. Thanks for your cooperation. > [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] +++ 05-13 [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Wait wait wait. You're telling me you voted ''Yea'' on the GOC thingy?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Precisely.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]Don't worry, I know what I'm doing.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]But why??[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]The GOC is necessary.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]They help us sometimes. And nonetheless, they still can protect the world from us. If we ever. Y'a know.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]And their existence reassures governments. Makes them think they can have a word against us.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Good points. Alright, I trust you on this.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]I know.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ##transparent\|Your text here.## ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: Now we're going to start again. Don't worry, we're nearly finished. Mr. Brown, you have the floor on item 6 of the agenda. Following Mr Brown's words, we will proceed with the debate. > > R-US: Thank you, Mr. Chairman. As you all know, worldwide paranormal events are constantly on the rise. More and more people are witnessing these events and becoming victims of these abnormalities. I know you're supposed to be handing out amnestics to the people affected, but how can you be sure that all the people affected by these events are actually being treated? And more and more anomalies are appearing. How can you contain them so quickly and effectively? I don't want to be an alarmist, but I think you need to be prepared for your Foundation to come out in the open! > > Chairman: This possibility will be examined on item 8 of the agenda. We're still on item 6: //Concerns about the recurrence of worldwide paranormal events.// Please, stay on this subject to ensure that the meeting runs smoothly. Continue. > > R-US: What I'm trying to say is that every day the world becomes riskier. > > R-Ca: And we would all love to hear what the GOC and the SCP Foundation are doing about it. > > R-G: Now that you are talking about it, it does sound like things are not as under control as you tell us. > > R-I: Indeed. It seems like we are more in danger than ever. > > R-J: How many SCPs have you contained? Seven hundred, something like that? Now imagine how much aren't contained! > > R-F: Makes you wonder if we actually are protected against these things! > > Chairman: We can now move on to item 7 of the agenda. > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > The Administrator: Do you want to address this? > > D.C. al Fine: Well I could. Do not be aware. We, the GOC, are actively terminating parathreats as we speak, and many are being observed by our services! This increase in worldwide paranormal events is under control, and soon we'll flatten the curve. Planet Earth is safe with us. > > The Administrator: Mrs. al Fine is right. This situation is totally under control. If things were going sour, you would already know it. We took an oath to protect the human race. If we had any problem doing that, we would have already asked you for help. > > R-R: I'm not convinced. > > The Administrator: Maybe. But you still are protected. We die in the dark so you can live in the light. > > Chairman: Does anyone else wish to speak? No? Then we'll move on to item 8. > > R-US: If I may continue on what I was saying on this before? > ##transparent\|Your text here.## > Chairman: You may. > > R-US: If your Foundation is to come out in the open, what is your plan? > > The Administrator: A Broken Masqu... A revelation of our Foundation to the world has been discussed many times internally, and we now know how we will manage this situation. > > R-UK: Details? > > The Administrator: No. > > D.C. al Fine: The GOC, for its part, is a governmental organization. As such, we already are entrusted by a lot of people, and the GOC being brought under the spotlight would be easily dealt with. > > R-UK: The GOC isn't the problem here. Mr. Administrator, do you seriously expect us to blindly trust you, without having any information or details about your work? > > The Administrator: Precisely. > > R-UK: Go fuck yourse... > > Chairman: Order! That kind of language will not be tolerated, Mr. Addams! > > The Administrator: Your confidence is needed if you want everything to go well. > > Chairman: I think that's all for item 8? Right? Perfect, moving on to item 9 of the agenda. Does anyone have anything else to add for today? > > Representatives: ... > > Chairman: Alright, let's move on to item 10, the closing speech. Mr. Varfolomeyev, you have the floor. > > R-R: Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Ladies and gentlemen, if you are here today, if I am here today, it's because we have an objective in common. This objective is the protection of the human race, and is a noble cause! Even if we all disagreed on something, I must thank you all, and thank your respective governments, for doing so much work to protect our populations. Even if we all have resentments towards each other, let's try to ignore them. Let's respect and thank each other. > > Chairman: Thank you, Mr. Varfolomeyev! Date and time of the next meeting, now. > > R-US: Is it necessary to have a next meeting? > > Chairman: Are there any objections to not scheduling another meeting at this time? Very well, I therefore declare this meeting closed. Thank you all! > > R-US: I have one last question for Mr. Administrator. > > The Administrator: Yes? > > R-US: How is the Chaos Insurgency doing? > > D.C. al Fine: The //what//? > The Administrator gets up and quickly leaves the room, closely followed by MTF Alpha-1. ##transparent\|Your text here.## ##transparent\|Your text here.## [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] +++ 05-13 [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]How THE FUCK does he know about the Chaos Insurgency[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]WHAT??[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]Who?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Jonathan Brown. The American representative.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]What did he say??[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]The son of a bitch[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]As soon as the meeting ended he asked me ''How's the Chaos Insurgency going?"[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]The existence of the Chaos Insurgency is heavily classified, how can he know??[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Wait gimme a sec[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Be quick.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ##transparent\|Your text here.## ##transparent\|Your text here.## [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] +++ 05-13 [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Fucking hell. I have bad news.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]What?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]WHAT???[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Jonathan Brown. He isn't real.[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]The American representative who was supposed to be there was named Markus Beater[[/span]] [[span class="text"]]And he was found fucking dead in his hotel room this morning[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]So I just spent an entire meeting with a goi op???[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Fuck I think so. Don't worry we will figure this out and sooner or later catch this ''Mr. Brown''.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]We better find this motherfucker, and PRETTY FUCKING QUICK[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] ##transparent\|Your text here.## ##transparent\|Your text here.##	2023-08-25T04:43:00	[ "chaos-insurgency", "dc-al-fine", "global-occult-coalition", "tale", "the-administrator" ]	Urgent Commission Of Inquiry Into Worldwide Paranormal Events - SCP Foundation	18	[]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "goc-hub-page", "chaos-insurgency-hub" ]	[]	1449554421	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/urgent-commission-of-inquiry-into-worldwide-paranormal-event
vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori	<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=1720188547" 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/vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori">Vedi Napoli e poi Muori</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=1720188547" 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> <script src="https://d3g0gp89917ko0.cloudfront.net/v--4b961b7cc327/common--javascript/yahooui/tabview-min.js" type="text/javascript"></script> <div class="yui-navset" id="wiki-tabview-2a0ef7402c0c3a2b1f273b212039e84d"> <ul class="yui-nav"> <li class="selected"><a href="javascript:;"><em>I</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>II</em></a></li> <li><a href="javascript:;"><em>III</em></a></li> </ul> <div class="yui-content"> <div id="wiki-tab-0-0"> <p>"And to conclude, the structure had gone through a renewal during the second half of the twentieth century; now, if you would please follow m-"</p> <p>These were the last words Mauro heard before the tour guide silently dropped to the ground, as well as the rest of the group. Under normal circumstances, he would have rushed immediately to get rescue, but the deafening silence had left him utterly dumbfounded. There was no scream or chatter to be heard, anything at all. The mounting fear of having lost his hearing was abruptly dispelled by the hideous noise of hundreds of cars crashing into each other, coming from all around.<br/> Out of despair, he let out a long cry for help, as loud as his old throat allowed him, but to no avail. Very few people had actually been left in Naples at that very moment, and certainly they weren't going to hear his call amid the overwhelming mayhem that engulfed the city.<br/> Time passed and he hadn't received any response yet, when he decided to take the initiative, being struck by a sudden, dreadful surmise.<br/> The leash in his hand was pulling down at a dead weight: like the rest of the group, his service dog was laying limp and unmoving by his feet. He resigned himself after a few tries, then took his cane and made his way across the fellow tourists' fallen, motionless bodies.<br/> He fared unsurprisingly well even without the dog, like he used to do for a long time in his life — he actually took the animal with him just to appease his daughter, as she wished her old parent to be safe and sound during the long coveted repatriation. But it was already becoming clear to Mauro that something far worse than a trivial trip-over had happened to him. Distancing himself from the seemingly unresponsive group, Mauro decided to move to a more bustling part of the city, where he was sure to find someone to help them.<br/> He didn't know how much wrong he was.<br/> Anytime else that particular square would have been crowded with tourists, but now it was desolated, so devoid it was of anything moving; also, even oddlier for such a sweltering evening, the buzzing and stinging annoyance of the plentiful midgets and mosquitoes wasn't anywhere to be heard or felt.<br/> Mauro started to feel genuinely scared. It had to be some kind of joke, of very bad taste indeed, but a joke nonetheless. He <em>had to</em> found someone: it was impossible that the whole town had literally gone at once! He took a back-halley, with the firm intent to reach the other districts, which he knew like the back of his hands. He used to live there as a kid, until the beginning of the war; for sure the city had expanded a lot by then, but in the end, down deep, it remained like it had always been.<br/> Not now, however: everything had just changed, again.<br/> Nothing remained but him, and the feeble crackling of the many cars burning in the distance. But they were not important, Mauro said to himself — all he wished was some human voice for him to hear, just a single one. To no avail, for hours on end he walked by the streets and squares and alleys' forlornness, for so much drained of any living sound they were.<br/> From time to time, he prodded what appeared to be dead bodies with his cane; not that he could be certain of that, as he got anything but the courage to reach down and check.<br/> The very act of walking started to become quite grueling for him, as he was hitting benches and signposts on his way over and over. Such occurrences had always been rare, but they were not all that strange in the end, he realised; all in all, his familiarity with the city couldn't really be demerged from the soundscape that had so abruptly been taken away from it. Or, maybe, it was just because he was panicking, and he should be needing to stop to recollect himself and breathe.<br/> Yet, Mauro wanted to carry on regardless — because, come on, he was going to find someone sooner or later, wasn't he?<br/> But still, after walking for who knows how long, he hadn't met anyone yet.<br/> Was he strolling around in circles? Did he get lost? Mauro finally stopped to catch some breath. Had he lost his sanity once and for all? Had his unrelenting old age finally won the siege and taken his mind?<br/> Definitely no: everything just didn't make any sense. It was just another evening, people were going to get out for a walk, to have dinner at a restaurant, or anything else: for God's sake, he couldn't <em>really</em> be alone! Was he dead, perhaps?<br/> Uncannily, he felt the city being indeed quite much the same as it was at the time of his departure ages ago: bleak, empty, dead.<br/> Why? Was it some sort of punishment? Did he do something bad to deserve this?<br/> Even if he took a few steps out of the line every now and then, he was convinced he had always behaved well after all, as a man and also as a father. What could he possibly have done to deserve this kind of retribution right when he was finally coming back home?<br/> A harrowing screech put a hard stop to Mauro's frantic flow of thoughts. Way before he could make up his mind on what was going on, he was struck by a fierce blast that sent him hurtling through the ground, and while he was getting up, another distant sound of explosion tore the stillness of the night. Then the silence fell again, and Mauro dragged himself close to a nearby wall to lean against and rest. Now all he wanted was to just find some reprieve, to put back some order in his head and dwindle the raving thoughts; but he learnt he really couldn't, such was his disheartening for the present circumstances.<br/> He remained there, slumped on the ground, for what could have been several hours, until his phone tune began ringing out loud.<br/> "Incoming call from Rosaria", chirped the vocal assistant. He picked up the call and answered her daughter before the phone tune could even play for a second time.<br/> "Dad! Are you ok?"<br/> "I-i'm good Rosie, more or less."<br/> "Oh, thank God, you're well", she whimpered, and then she let go a deep sigh. Perhaps even more than Mauro's, his daughter's voice was shrouded in despair.<br/> "Yes, yes love, I'm ok, kind of. Thank you for… for calling me. Do you know what is happening here?"<br/> "Dad, they're speaking about it on the first chann-" she said, before being interrupted by a loud static sound coming from the tv. "I can't believe it… now all the channels are… gone?<br/> "Rosaria? What happened?"<br/> "We've just lost the tv signal… It seems other channels have gone, too. But I don't really care, all I need is to know you're safe."<br/> "Why, honey, do you know what happened here?"<br/> "It's about Naples, dad. They're all dead there. Everyone is dead there."</p> </div> <div id="wiki-tab-0-1" style="display:none"> <p>Coughing and trudging, Sara pushed herself out of her wrecked car.<br/> The airbag should have definitely worked as it was supposed to, as luckily the collision didn't seem to have hurt her too much. Of course, such a rash accident two months after obtaining her driver license was not the greatest; but she was still alive, at least.<br/> "You wicked fool! I totally had the right of wa-", she angrily spat, soon to be interrupted by the loud crashing sounds coming from all the other cars, colliding right in front of her eyes.<br/> She hurried behind her vehicle, laying low until the clashing noise ceased; when she hesitantly peeked over her car, she was confronted with an apocalyptic view: there were many dozens, maybe even hundreds of wrecked cars all over the street.<br/> As she recovered from the fright, she turned around to face the one who had hit her: she found him, a middle aged man in a suit, his face plunged into the airbag of his car. She shook him, as he looked unconscious, but he didn't react.<br/> Sara checked for a pulse and if he was breathing, but she soon came to the terrible realization that he was, by all means, dead.<br/> But it didn't make any sense, his body was perfectly intact: there wasn't any blood, or any sign of broken bones. Could he have had a stroke, or maybe a head trauma?<br/> Sara cried for help, only to come into another dire realization: everything around her was perfectly quiet. In such a situation one would have expected nothing less of pandemonium, with countless voices moaning and crying and begging for help from all around the place; but instead, there was none.<br/> Sara turned around in awe, slowed down by the sheer weight of something that she had just ascertained, but not fully realized in its unbearable entirety yet: the middle aged road hog wasn't definitely the only one who had died.<br/> The sidewalks were littered with dead bodies, laying everywhere around, as far as she could see.<br/> Sara was paralyzed, stricken with arrant fear, her muscles tightly clenched in a pose of terror and dismay.<br/> She tried to calm down, but, for fuck's sake, there was no way she could manage to.<br/> How could she? Surrounded by uncountable lifeless bodies as far as the eye could reach and probably beyond, plunged under an unbearable blanket of deafening silence, how on earth could the very idea of calming down even exist in her mind? Sara gazed away from the street, futilely trying to come up with an idea of what was happening.<br/> She was the one and only person left on her feet, the only one in the street to — no, it couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening for real. She had to do something: yes, she had to get someone to help them. Why didn't she think about this immediately?<br/> Sara would have soon come to understand that it was, in fact, pointless. No one even noticed the hecatomb at her feet, nor she had heard anyone else screaming; there had been no reaction from anyone.<br/> No way it could be possible, Sara thought again, as she was about to enter the next side street. The situation there was identical, or even worse, and her doubts were kind of addressed then, somehow.<br/> She slowly bent over the tan body of a young man in his twenties wearing a shirt, probably a tourist. She checked: no pulse, no breathing. She checked another. And another, and another again.<br/> They were all dead, by all means, like the man in the car. It couldn't be a coincidence.<br/> What had happened? Some kind of collective stroke? She roused herself. What the hell of a conclusion was that? There must have been some sense in all of that. It had to.<br/> She finally resolved to call rescue, but she couldn't find her phone: here it was by the road, shattered in a thousand pieces. It flew off her car at the moment of the impact.<br/> Her other option was to find a public phone, if there was any nearby, or…<br/> Acknowledging that it would have probably been a very time consuming task, Sara took a phone from a dead man's bulging pocket instead. She opened up the oldish but dependable flip phone and immediately called for an ambulance; hadn't the emergency service still answered her call, she realized that there was another problem in her plan of getting rescuers on the place.<br/> "Emergency service here, how can we help you?"<br/> What was she even supposed to say in the first place? Everyone looked already dead, an ambulance wasn't going to be helpful at all. Nonetheless, since someone had actually picked up the call, at least she knew that not everyone had died. Maybe there was someone still alive, somewhere, likely waiting to be saved.<br/> "Hello, I… I've just had a car accident, I think I'm well but the other driver has no pulse and doesn't breathe, also there have been several other accidents in my area, and…"<br/> "Please go on and tell us your position."<br/> "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. There are a lot of people down on the ground, they do not react and I can't find any pulses."<br/> The dispatch operator remained silent for a few, long seconds.<br/> Did she actually overhear something like: "That's the fifth time today"?<br/> "We understand, please remain calm. Tell us your position and we will send rescuers to your location as soon as we can".<br/> "St. Severino Street, Naples. Mind that the road is now blocked both ways by the car wrecks"<br/> "Yes, of course. The ambulances are leaving as we speak. Help is on the way, but they will need some time to arrive."<br/> "Why is that?"<br/> "Apparently Naples' emergency service dispatches are unreachable at the moment, the vehicles are on their way from Caserta"<br/> "I see, thanks a lot."<br/> The call ended, and she sat down by the walkway.<br/> Ok, now, what was she supposed to do? She didn't really want to check if every single person on the ground was in fact dead, because she already felt half sure that they actually were. She was thinking about this for a few moments, when she felt the urge to call her mother, just to hear her voice and try to calm down a little bit.<br/> She composed her number, but no one picked up the call, like the ringing phone was being ignored.<br/> It made sense after all, she thought. One isn't supposed to answer to an unknown number; but why would her mother let the phone ring, without declining the call? That was strange indeed, as her mother used to reject unsolicited calls.<br/> She tried once again, then twice, then five times, then ten times, but it was pointless. There seemed to be no one on the other side to pick up the call. Had she gone out to do something, and forgot her mobile at home? Of course that had to be the case, she would soon be coming back, and of course she would have called back this number ten times minimum. All she had to do was just waiting: wait for the ambulance, and wait for her mum to call back. Everything should have been well, and all manner of things should have been well.<br/> Sara waited for half an hour.<br/> Then a full hour.<br/> It had been two hours and she was still waiting. No one came, and no one called.<br/> She was simply standing by there, without moving or doing anything in hours; all she did was calling for rescue another time, only to discover that emergency service turned out to be unavailable. In the end, she resolved to go home by herself, as the sun had already set.<br/> As she left the street again, she found what she expected: the other roads were littered with bodies too — whatever happened, it must have struck the whole city.<br/> The way home was quite long, as her house was in the outskirts, and she probably would have arrived late in the night.<br/> Her path was thwarted on three separate occasions.<br/> Shortly after she started to walk, something falling from the sky hit her head, and before she could even see what it was, some other similar things had followed it, crashing down softly here and there.<br/> She noticed it was a little dead bird, quite similar to the rest of its flock, which the impact on the ground had only rendered in slightly worse conditions.<br/> She strode on, until she heard a feeble, hissing noise from above, prompting her to look up; she saw something looking like a plane falling off the sky; but the city's skyline blocked her view, and she couldn't see its downfall through the end.<br/> For how much shocked Sara was, still she was resolute to not asking any question to herself.<br/> It was already getting late when she saw a cat.<br/> There was nothing incredible in the cat by itself, as she had seen plenty of dead felines during the miserable walk; this one though, to her surprise, was very much alive.<br/> Slowly, she tried to get close to the animal, but of course the cat scooted away: she started chasing him down.<br/> There was something alive other than her? Good lord, even the very flies and insects had died out, what the hell was the deal with that particular cat?<br/> After running for not less than ten minutes, she came upon a tiny square with a small café opening into the right side, which the cat seemed to have found shelter within.<br/> The café was nothing special, just a dull public place for old people to lazily meet up, and wear away in peace what was left of their livers.<br/> As she expected, the place was not so populated; there was just the bartender along with a couple of old men. On the counter stood a double sign, in italian and in broken English, which read: "Attenscion: the cat <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">is orb</span> cant sighting"<br/> The cat tucked himself close to his defunct owner, and started meowing when he didn't react to his effusions. Much to her surprise, she found some unexpected reprieve in the weird cuteness of the situation.<br/> Sara receded from them and sat down by the empty side of the bar.<br/> So, did the cat survive because he was blind? It couldn't explain it completely, she thought: there had to be something different going on. In the first place she wasn't dead, but she wasn't blind; there had to be another reason for her being left alive.<br/> A clock on a wall caught her attention: it was a quarter past eleven in the evening.<br/> It was very late, and still several hours of walk separated her from home. Perhaps, she would have been better to stay there and use some rest.<br/> For all the time, she hadn't noticed the TV by the wall, and as she turned it on, it appeared to be tuned on the first channel. It was broadcasting a live breaking news, and the words "Update on the situation in Naples" immediately got her attention.<br/> It looked like she could finally wrap her mind around what was happening!</p> <blockquote> <p>"At this time, it looks there isn't any development or improvement about the tragedy that has befallen on the parthenopean capital tonight. Starting from today seven o'clock pm, it seems that the very view of city of Naples lead the subjects to sudden, unexplainable death"</p> </blockquote> <p>"W-what the-"</p> <blockquote> <p>"Police enforced a mass evacuation in the municipalities around Naples, aiming to prevent further casualties. According to all available phone calls, online messages and other pieces of communication, the number of survivors has risen to one thousand, seven hundred and fifty-three.<br/> Emergency transmissions will be aired throughout the city by a fleet of automatic drones in hope to reach out survivors, the majority of whom are, in fact, visually-impaired."</p> </blockquote> <p>Sara was left aghast once more. No way it could be possible, no way it could be the very litmus test of what she suspected was going on; except the fact that, by all means, it was — but how come, she wondered; Why?</p> <blockquote> <p>"Right now, prime minister Gentiloni is meeting with other EU representatives to discuss the possibilities for rescue operations. After an unexpected interruption in his evening sermon, Pope Francis have disappeared from any public radar and still has not expressed any-"</p> </blockquote> <p>Then the audio was cut, and the tv lost the signal a couple of seconds after, showing only static noise. Sara tried to change the channel, eager for more details, unknowing she would have been not able to.</p> </div> <div id="wiki-tab-0-2" style="display:none"> <p>"Director Rossi, your presence has urgently been requested by the Mind and Memetic Studies Section."<br/> "I'm on my way, what happened?"<br/> "Napl- the entire city of Naples has become a lethal memetic agent."</p> <p>It seemed to be a joke of very bad taste, but it wasn't, it was much more than that; it was a catastrophe of colossal proportions from every point of view.<br/> The whole Mind and Memetic Studies Section had feverishly been working for hours along with the experts from the Mother Branch to envision a solution, or even just a cause, without much success.<br/> They "had been" until fifteen minutes ago, though; the Mother Branch had since severed any contact with the Italians', further aggravating them, confronted as they were with something seemingly so irresolvable.<br/> Nicola Rossi was left with no other option than trying to convince the research team to push on, regardless of the desperate situation; regrettably, however, there hadn't been any improvement since the time of discovery.<br/> The memetic agent literally came out of the blue, uniformly distributed throughout all the city, completely isotropic. There wasn't any epicentre, any distinctive or salient feature, no symbolism: nothing.<br/> Survival ratio: apparently, seventy nine in a million, along with an immediate termination of any vital sign.<br/> That was all they managed to come up with, after many hours spent toiling. Everything seemed to point in the direction of some kind of force awakening just to let the city plunge down to hell.<br/> But they simply could not give up, and the Foundation did anything possible to buy themselves some time: they cut the telephone lines; they downed several sharing and social network sites; as a last resort, they blocked the largest sources of information in Italy first, and then globally.<br/> The latter was rather pointless, actually; almost everyone in the country and worldwide already knew what had happened in Naples.<br/> An incidental, puny but miraculous upside could have been that no pictures of Naples had also become retroactively memetic: so, at least, it wasn't the very concept of Naples to be lethal.<br/> Nonetheless, they had to endure and go on.<br/> It wasn't the Foundation's first ride in dealing with sudden, unfathomably mysterious events. If something didn't make sense, they were the ones in place to go and find out.<br/> Surely Rossi could not endure for longer, as hope had already been abandoning him; even if they would somehow manage to find a way to shield, or even neutralize the memetic agent, what were they supposed to do next?<br/> Indeed, a grand three millions people had died — and there were witnesses in the thousands, counting the immune and the visually impaired.<br/> You can cover up the death of a family, the disappearance of a forest, the destruction of a hamlet; but what are you going to do if it's Naples? Moreover when half the world already knew about the grim event?<br/> Rossi used to trust the Foundation, but it looked like something nigh impossible to keep as a secret.<br/> A researcher's phone started ringing out loud, like he was receiving dozens of push notifications at once.<br/> "I'm sorry, I thought I've already turned it o-", apologized the scientist, before stopping abruptly while he was reading.<br/> "D-Director, mister Rossi, I… I really think you have to see this one."<br/> Rossi approached the researcher and leaned down to look, curious to understand what could elicit such consternation in his colleague: the phone showed the Telegram app, that was full of unread messages.<br/> Every message looked like some bot's spam, but instead of clickbait scoops, fantastic rebates or major league's matches results, there were hundreds of messages, all the same, all written in the same words: «The dire truth behind Naples and the SCP Foundation».<br/> The poor man stared at Rossi's face in the same expression of someone who had been exposed to a class-XV memetic agent.<br/> Reluctantly, Rossi tapped the hyperlink under that ominous header. The phone loaded a russian internet page with a live video feed already playing.<br/> The video portrayed an imposing man in his thirties with no hair and a dark beard.<br/> His body was completely wrapped in a precious-looking crimson robe rich in gilded embroideries, revealing only his head and crossed hands; clashing with his almost regal look, a pistachio tie was knotted at his neck and laid negligently over the stately garments.<br/> Behind the man stood wooden panels, painted white.<br/> They had clearly been installed in a hurried, ramshackle way: some were crooked, others cracked; still, they managed to give out a false, lulling sense of safety and professionalism.<br/> After having adjusted his tie, the man finally spoke.</p> <blockquote> <p>"Good evening, people of Italy. My name is Ala ad-Dunya, and I represent a group known among the occult societies in the world by the name of Serpent's Hand."</p> </blockquote> <p>Unlike the reasonably astonished colleague, Rossi already knew about the Serpent's Hand, even if only by the books: a disgraceful bunch of terrorist thugs, proud of opposing the Foundation in pursuit of their utopistic set of ideals. He didn't hear too much too often about their whereabouts, almost never involving Italy.<br/> What were they planning to do?<br/> The representative of the Hand spoke again:</p> <blockquote> <p>"On behalf of the group I represent, I offer you my utmost sincere condolences for the recents events that occurred in Naples. I want you to know that we are committed to bring help to the few survivors in the next days."</p> </blockquote> <p>Could it be plain compassionate? No, it couldn't be the whole deal, they must had some secret end -<br/> Then, he recalled the title.<br/> "Oh."</p> <blockquote> <p>"We apologize for intruding on your radio and phone devices. We had no other choice.<br/> After all, the television network has flashed out recently.<br/> The cause of all the present circumstances is one organization, and one only.<br/> The SCP Foundation.<br/> Many of you are probably going to be puzzled, but this is completely and reasonably normal.<br/> The next words are addressed to them, not to you innocent people.<br/> It's them who have tried to stop you from gleaning the truth.<br/> It's them who have ignored the catastrophe, even if it's them who could have brought you the necessary help.<br/> And, as far as we know, they could even eventually turn out to be the ones who had caused this tragedy, in pursuit of their unknown ends, or, maybe even worse, out of sheer incompetence.<br/> Your pitiful, petty theatrics ends here, but we are offering you an alternative.<br/> High members of the Command, we submit a simple request.<br/> Reveal yourselves, keep that flimsy veil of security that you still have.<br/> On the contrary, we are going to have no qualms about our course of action.<br/> We cherish a trove of information; we have enough to reveal some other organizations on your level.<br/> Needless to say, I highly doubt they are going to keep their mouths shut, they have never done so under these kinds of circumstances.<br/> I really hope this announcement will be sufficient.<br/> Dare not to censor us.<br/> It is too late to turn back now, the damage has already been done.<br/> Farewell."</p> </blockquote> <p>The video ended and started playing in a loop.<br/> Rossi threw himself on a chair, while the other researchers went into total, incoherently panicked commotion.<br/> He wasn't able to reason.<br/> It was a calamity; a ruinous, blightful cataclysm.<br/> It would have been a disaster in any way, independently of any choice the Command was going to undertake.<br/> One damn thing was for sure.<br/> No one would have been able to put back together the pieces of their <strong>broken masquerade</strong>.</p> </div> </div> </div> <script type="text/javascript"> //<![CDATA[ OZONE.dom.onDomReady(function(){ var tabView2a0ef7402c0c3a2b1f273b212039e84d = new YAHOO.widget.TabView('wiki-tabview-2a0ef7402c0c3a2b1f273b212039e84d'); }, "dummy-ondomready-block"); //]]> </script> <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="/vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori">See Naples and Die</a>" by C0S0, translated by Ichne-Bebop, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori">https://scpwiki.com/vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori</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/vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori Vedi Napoli e poi Muori] Translator: [[user Ichne-Bebop]] [[include <a href="/info:end">info:end</a>]] [[module CSS]] .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content { border: 0; background: 0; padding: 0000FF; } .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav { border-width: 0 0 2px; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { background: 0; border: 0; color: ; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em { border: 0; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover { background: 0; color: #b01; font-weight: bold; } .yui-content blockquote { background-color: #f5f5f5; } [[/module]] [[tabview]] [[tab I]] "And to conclude, the structure had gone through a renewal during the second half of the twentieth century; now, if you would please follow m-" These were the last words Mauro heard before the tour guide silently dropped to the ground, as well as the rest of the group. Under normal circumstances, he would have rushed immediately to get rescue, but the deafening silence had left him utterly dumbfounded. There was no scream or chatter to be heard, anything at all. The mounting fear of having lost his hearing was abruptly dispelled by the hideous noise of hundreds of cars crashing into each other, coming from all around. Out of despair, he let out a long cry for help, as loud as his old throat allowed him, but to no avail. Very few people had actually been left in Naples at that very moment, and certainly they weren't going to hear his call amid the overwhelming mayhem that engulfed the city. Time passed and he hadn't received any response yet, when he decided to take the initiative, being struck by a sudden, dreadful surmise. The leash in his hand was pulling down at a dead weight: like the rest of the group, his service dog was laying limp and unmoving by his feet. He resigned himself after a few tries, then took his cane and made his way across the fellow tourists' fallen, motionless bodies. He fared unsurprisingly well even without the dog, like he used to do for a long time in his life -- he actually took the animal with him just to appease his daughter, as she wished her old parent to be safe and sound during the long coveted repatriation. But it was already becoming clear to Mauro that something far worse than a trivial trip-over had happened to him. Distancing himself from the seemingly unresponsive group, Mauro decided to move to a more bustling part of the city, where he was sure to find someone to help them. He didn't know how much wrong he was. Anytime else that particular square would have been crowded with tourists, but now it was desolated, so devoid it was of anything moving; also, even oddlier for such a sweltering evening, the buzzing and stinging annoyance of the plentiful midgets and mosquitoes wasn't anywhere to be heard or felt. Mauro started to feel genuinely scared. It had to be some kind of joke, of very bad taste indeed, but a joke nonetheless. He //had to// found someone: it was impossible that the whole town had literally gone at once! He took a back-halley, with the firm intent to reach the other districts, which he knew like the back of his hands. He used to live there as a kid, until the beginning of the war; for sure the city had expanded a lot by then, but in the end, down deep, it remained like it had always been. Not now, however: everything had just changed, again. Nothing remained but him, and the feeble crackling of the many cars burning in the distance. But they were not important, Mauro said to himself -- all he wished was some human voice for him to hear, just a single one. To no avail, for hours on end he walked by the streets and squares and alleys' forlornness, for so much drained of any living sound they were. From time to time, he prodded what appeared to be dead bodies with his cane; not that he could be certain of that, as he got anything but the courage to reach down and check. The very act of walking started to become quite grueling for him, as he was hitting benches and signposts on his way over and over. Such occurrences had always been rare, but they were not all that strange in the end, he realised; all in all, his familiarity with the city couldn't really be demerged from the soundscape that had so abruptly been taken away from it. Or, maybe, it was just because he was panicking, and he should be needing to stop to recollect himself and breathe. Yet, Mauro wanted to carry on regardless -- because, come on, he was going to find someone sooner or later, wasn't he? But still, after walking for who knows how long, he hadn't met anyone yet. Was he strolling around in circles? Did he get lost? Mauro finally stopped to catch some breath. Had he lost his sanity once and for all? Had his unrelenting old age finally won the siege and taken his mind? Definitely no: everything just didn't make any sense. It was just another evening, people were going to get out for a walk, to have dinner at a restaurant, or anything else: for God's sake, he couldn't //really// be alone! Was he dead, perhaps? Uncannily, he felt the city being indeed quite much the same as it was at the time of his departure ages ago: bleak, empty, dead. Why? Was it some sort of punishment? Did he do something bad to deserve this? Even if he took a few steps out of the line every now and then, he was convinced he had always behaved well after all, as a man and also as a father. What could he possibly have done to deserve this kind of retribution right when he was finally coming back home? A harrowing screech put a hard stop to Mauro's frantic flow of thoughts. Way before he could make up his mind on what was going on, he was struck by a fierce blast that sent him hurtling through the ground, and while he was getting up, another distant sound of explosion tore the stillness of the night. Then the silence fell again, and Mauro dragged himself close to a nearby wall to lean against and rest. Now all he wanted was to just find some reprieve, to put back some order in his head and dwindle the raving thoughts; but he learnt he really couldn't, such was his disheartening for the present circumstances. He remained there, slumped on the ground, for what could have been several hours, until his phone tune began ringing out loud. "Incoming call from Rosaria", chirped the vocal assistant. He picked up the call and answered her daughter before the phone tune could even play for a second time. "Dad! Are you ok?" "I-i'm good Rosie, more or less." "Oh, thank God, you're well", she whimpered, and then she let go a deep sigh. Perhaps even more than Mauro's, his daughter's voice was shrouded in despair. "Yes, yes love, I'm ok, kind of. Thank you for… for calling me. Do you know what is happening here?" "Dad, they're speaking about it on the first chann-" she said, before being interrupted by a loud static sound coming from the tv. "I can't believe it... now all the channels are... gone? "Rosaria? What happened?" "We've just lost the tv signal… It seems other channels have gone, too. But I don't really care, all I need is to know you're safe." "Why, honey, do you know what happened here?" "It's about Naples, dad. They're all dead there. Everyone is dead there." [[/tab]] [[tab II]] Coughing and trudging, Sara pushed herself out of her wrecked car. The airbag should have definitely worked as it was supposed to, as luckily the collision didn't seem to have hurt her too much. Of course, such a rash accident two months after obtaining her driver license was not the greatest; but she was still alive, at least. "You wicked fool! I totally had the right of wa-", she angrily spat, soon to be interrupted by the loud crashing sounds coming from all the other cars, colliding right in front of her eyes. She hurried behind her vehicle, laying low until the clashing noise ceased; when she hesitantly peeked over her car, she was confronted with an apocalyptic view: there were many dozens, maybe even hundreds of wrecked cars all over the street. As she recovered from the fright, she turned around to face the one who had hit her: she found him, a middle aged man in a suit, his face plunged into the airbag of his car. She shook him, as he looked unconscious, but he didn't react. Sara checked for a pulse and if he was breathing, but she soon came to the terrible realization that he was, by all means, dead. But it didn't make any sense, his body was perfectly intact: there wasn't any blood, or any sign of broken bones. Could he have had a stroke, or maybe a head trauma? Sara cried for help, only to come into another dire realization: everything around her was perfectly quiet. In such a situation one would have expected nothing less of pandemonium, with countless voices moaning and crying and begging for help from all around the place; but instead, there was none. Sara turned around in awe, slowed down by the sheer weight of something that she had just ascertained, but not fully realized in its unbearable entirety yet: the middle aged road hog wasn't definitely the only one who had died. The sidewalks were littered with dead bodies, laying everywhere around, as far as she could see. Sara was paralyzed, stricken with arrant fear, her muscles tightly clenched in a pose of terror and dismay. She tried to calm down, but, for fuck's sake, there was no way she could manage to. How could she? Surrounded by uncountable lifeless bodies as far as the eye could reach and probably beyond, plunged under an unbearable blanket of deafening silence, how on earth could the very idea of calming down even exist in her mind? Sara gazed away from the street, futilely trying to come up with an idea of what was happening. She was the one and only person left on her feet, the only one in the street to -- no, it couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening for real. She had to do something: yes, she had to get someone to help them. Why didn't she think about this immediately? Sara would have soon come to understand that it was, in fact, pointless. No one even noticed the hecatomb at her feet, nor she had heard anyone else screaming; there had been no reaction from anyone. No way it could be possible, Sara thought again, as she was about to enter the next side street. The situation there was identical, or even worse, and her doubts were kind of addressed then, somehow. She slowly bent over the tan body of a young man in his twenties wearing a shirt, probably a tourist. She checked: no pulse, no breathing. She checked another. And another, and another again. They were all dead, by all means, like the man in the car. It couldn't be a coincidence. What had happened? Some kind of collective stroke? She roused herself. What the hell of a conclusion was that? There must have been some sense in all of that. It had to. She finally resolved to call rescue, but she couldn't find her phone: here it was by the road, shattered in a thousand pieces. It flew off her car at the moment of the impact. Her other option was to find a public phone, if there was any nearby, or… Acknowledging that it would have probably been a very time consuming task, Sara took a phone from a dead man's bulging pocket instead. She opened up the oldish but dependable flip phone and immediately called for an ambulance; hadn't the emergency service still answered her call, she realized that there was another problem in her plan of getting rescuers on the place. "Emergency service here, how can we help you?" What was she even supposed to say in the first place? Everyone looked already dead, an ambulance wasn't going to be helpful at all. Nonetheless, since someone had actually picked up the call, at least she knew that not everyone had died. Maybe there was someone still alive, somewhere, likely waiting to be saved. "Hello, I… I've just had a car accident, I think I'm well but the other driver has no pulse and doesn't breathe, also there have been several other accidents in my area, and…" "Please go on and tell us your position." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. There are a lot of people down on the ground, they do not react and I can't find any pulses." The dispatch operator remained silent for a few, long seconds. Did she actually overhear something like: "That's the fifth time today"? "We understand, please remain calm. Tell us your position and we will send rescuers to your location as soon as we can". "St. Severino Street, Naples. Mind that the road is now blocked both ways by the car wrecks" "Yes, of course. The ambulances are leaving as we speak. Help is on the way, but they will need some time to arrive." "Why is that?" "Apparently Naples' emergency service dispatches are unreachable at the moment, the vehicles are on their way from Caserta" "I see, thanks a lot." The call ended, and she sat down by the walkway. Ok, now, what was she supposed to do? She didn't really want to check if every single person on the ground was in fact dead, because she already felt half sure that they actually were. She was thinking about this for a few moments, when she felt the urge to call her mother, just to hear her voice and try to calm down a little bit. She composed her number, but no one picked up the call, like the ringing phone was being ignored. It made sense after all, she thought. One isn't supposed to answer to an unknown number; but why would her mother let the phone ring, without declining the call? That was strange indeed, as her mother used to reject unsolicited calls. She tried once again, then twice, then five times, then ten times, but it was pointless. There seemed to be no one on the other side to pick up the call. Had she gone out to do something, and forgot her mobile at home? Of course that had to be the case, she would soon be coming back, and of course she would have called back this number ten times minimum. All she had to do was just waiting: wait for the ambulance, and wait for her mum to call back. Everything should have been well, and all manner of things should have been well. Sara waited for half an hour. Then a full hour. It had been two hours and she was still waiting. No one came, and no one called. She was simply standing by there, without moving or doing anything in hours; all she did was calling for rescue another time, only to discover that emergency service turned out to be unavailable. In the end, she resolved to go home by herself, as the sun had already set. As she left the street again, she found what she expected: the other roads were littered with bodies too -- whatever happened, it must have struck the whole city. The way home was quite long, as her house was in the outskirts, and she probably would have arrived late in the night. Her path was thwarted on three separate occasions. Shortly after she started to walk, something falling from the sky hit her head, and before she could even see what it was, some other similar things had followed it, crashing down softly here and there. She noticed it was a little dead bird, quite similar to the rest of its flock, which the impact on the ground had only rendered in slightly worse conditions. She strode on, until she heard a feeble, hissing noise from above, prompting her to look up; she saw something looking like a plane falling off the sky; but the city's skyline blocked her view, and she couldn't see its downfall through the end. For how much shocked Sara was, still she was resolute to not asking any question to herself. It was already getting late when she saw a cat. There was nothing incredible in the cat by itself, as she had seen plenty of dead felines during the miserable walk; this one though, to her surprise, was very much alive. Slowly, she tried to get close to the animal, but of course the cat scooted away: she started chasing him down. There was something alive other than her? Good lord, even the very flies and insects had died out, what the hell was the deal with that particular cat? After running for not less than ten minutes, she came upon a tiny square with a small café opening into the right side, which the cat seemed to have found shelter within. The café was nothing special, just a dull public place for old people to lazily meet up, and wear away in peace what was left of their livers. As she expected, the place was not so populated; there was just the bartender along with a couple of old men. On the counter stood a double sign, in italian and in broken English, which read: "Attenscion: the cat --is orb-- cant sighting" The cat tucked himself close to his defunct owner, and started meowing when he didn't react to his effusions. Much to her surprise, she found some unexpected reprieve in the weird cuteness of the situation. Sara receded from them and sat down by the empty side of the bar. So, did the cat survive because he was blind? It couldn't explain it completely, she thought: there had to be something different going on. In the first place she wasn't dead, but she wasn't blind; there had to be another reason for her being left alive. A clock on a wall caught her attention: it was a quarter past eleven in the evening. It was very late, and still several hours of walk separated her from home. Perhaps, she would have been better to stay there and use some rest. For all the time, she hadn't noticed the TV by the wall, and as she turned it on, it appeared to be tuned on the first channel. It was broadcasting a live breaking news, and the words "Update on the situation in Naples" immediately got her attention. It looked like she could finally wrap her mind around what was happening! > "At this time, it looks there isn't any development or improvement about the tragedy that has befallen on the parthenopean capital tonight. Starting from today seven o'clock pm, it seems that the very view of city of Naples lead the subjects to sudden, unexplainable death" "W-what the-" > "Police enforced a mass evacuation in the municipalities around Naples, aiming to prevent further casualties. According to all available phone calls, online messages and other pieces of communication, the number of survivors has risen to one thousand, seven hundred and fifty-three. > Emergency transmissions will be aired throughout the city by a fleet of automatic drones in hope to reach out survivors, the majority of whom are, in fact, visually-impaired." Sara was left aghast once more. No way it could be possible, no way it could be the very litmus test of what she suspected was going on; except the fact that, by all means, it was -- but how come, she wondered; Why? > "Right now, prime minister Gentiloni is meeting with other EU representatives to discuss the possibilities for rescue operations. After an unexpected interruption in his evening sermon, Pope Francis have disappeared from any public radar and still has not expressed any-" Then the audio was cut, and the tv lost the signal a couple of seconds after, showing only static noise. Sara tried to change the channel, eager for more details, unknowing she would have been not able to. [[/tab]] [[tab III]] "Director Rossi, your presence has urgently been requested by the Mind and Memetic Studies Section." "I'm on my way, what happened?" "Napl- the entire city of Naples has become a lethal memetic agent." It seemed to be a joke of very bad taste, but it wasn't, it was much more than that; it was a catastrophe of colossal proportions from every point of view. The whole Mind and Memetic Studies Section had feverishly been working for hours along with the experts from the Mother Branch to envision a solution, or even just a cause, without much success. They "had been" until fifteen minutes ago, though; the Mother Branch had since severed any contact with the Italians', further aggravating them, confronted as they were with something seemingly so irresolvable. Nicola Rossi was left with no other option than trying to convince the research team to push on, regardless of the desperate situation; regrettably, however, there hadn't been any improvement since the time of discovery. The memetic agent literally came out of the blue, uniformly distributed throughout all the city, completely isotropic. There wasn't any epicentre, any distinctive or salient feature, no symbolism: nothing. Survival ratio: apparently, seventy nine in a million, along with an immediate termination of any vital sign. That was all they managed to come up with, after many hours spent toiling. Everything seemed to point in the direction of some kind of force awakening just to let the city plunge down to hell. But they simply could not give up, and the Foundation did anything possible to buy themselves some time: they cut the telephone lines; they downed several sharing and social network sites; as a last resort, they blocked the largest sources of information in Italy first, and then globally. The latter was rather pointless, actually; almost everyone in the country and worldwide already knew what had happened in Naples. An incidental, puny but miraculous upside could have been that no pictures of Naples had also become retroactively memetic: so, at least, it wasn't the very concept of Naples to be lethal. Nonetheless, they had to endure and go on. It wasn't the Foundation's first ride in dealing with sudden, unfathomably mysterious events. If something didn't make sense, they were the ones in place to go and find out. Surely Rossi could not endure for longer, as hope had already been abandoning him; even if they would somehow manage to find a way to shield, or even neutralize the memetic agent, what were they supposed to do next? Indeed, a grand three millions people had died -- and there were witnesses in the thousands, counting the immune and the visually impaired. You can cover up the death of a family, the disappearance of a forest, the destruction of a hamlet; but what are you going to do if it's Naples? Moreover when half the world already knew about the grim event? Rossi used to trust the Foundation, but it looked like something nigh impossible to keep as a secret. A researcher's phone started ringing out loud, like he was receiving dozens of push notifications at once. "I'm sorry, I thought I've already turned it o-", apologized the scientist, before stopping abruptly while he was reading. "D-Director, mister Rossi, I… I really think you have to see this one." Rossi approached the researcher and leaned down to look, curious to understand what could elicit such consternation in his colleague: the phone showed the Telegram app, that was full of unread messages. Every message looked like some bot's spam, but instead of clickbait scoops, fantastic rebates or major league's matches results, there were hundreds of messages, all the same, all written in the same words: «The dire truth behind Naples and the SCP Foundation». The poor man stared at Rossi's face in the same expression of someone who had been exposed to a class-XV memetic agent. Reluctantly, Rossi tapped the hyperlink under that ominous header. The phone loaded a russian internet page with a live video feed already playing. The video portrayed an imposing man in his thirties with no hair and a dark beard. His body was completely wrapped in a precious-looking crimson robe rich in gilded embroideries, revealing only his head and crossed hands; clashing with his almost regal look, a pistachio tie was knotted at his neck and laid negligently over the stately garments. Behind the man stood wooden panels, painted white. They had clearly been installed in a hurried, ramshackle way: some were crooked, others cracked; still, they managed to give out a false, lulling sense of safety and professionalism. After having adjusted his tie, the man finally spoke. > "Good evening, people of Italy. My name is Ala ad-Dunya, and I represent a group known among the occult societies in the world by the name of Serpent's Hand." Unlike the reasonably astonished colleague, Rossi already knew about the Serpent's Hand, even if only by the books: a disgraceful bunch of terrorist thugs, proud of opposing the Foundation in pursuit of their utopistic set of ideals. He didn't hear too much too often about their whereabouts, almost never involving Italy. What were they planning to do? The representative of the Hand spoke again: > "On behalf of the group I represent, I offer you my utmost sincere condolences for the recents events that occurred in Naples. I want you to know that we are committed to bring help to the few survivors in the next days." Could it be plain compassionate? No, it couldn't be the whole deal, they must had some secret end - Then, he recalled the title. "Oh." > "We apologize for intruding on your radio and phone devices. We had no other choice. > After all, the television network has flashed out recently. > The cause of all the present circumstances is one organization, and one only. > The SCP Foundation. > Many of you are probably going to be puzzled, but this is completely and reasonably normal. > The next words are addressed to them, not to you innocent people. > It's them who have tried to stop you from gleaning the truth. > It's them who have ignored the catastrophe, even if it's them who could have brought you the necessary help. > And, as far as we know, they could even eventually turn out to be the ones who had caused this tragedy, in pursuit of their unknown ends, or, maybe even worse, out of sheer incompetence. > Your pitiful, petty theatrics ends here, but we are offering you an alternative. > High members of the Command, we submit a simple request. > Reveal yourselves, keep that flimsy veil of security that you still have. > On the contrary, we are going to have no qualms about our course of action. > We cherish a trove of information; we have enough to reveal some other organizations on your level. > Needless to say, I highly doubt they are going to keep their mouths shut, they have never done so under these kinds of circumstances. > I really hope this announcement will be sufficient. > Dare not to censor us. > It is too late to turn back now, the damage has already been done. > Farewell." The video ended and started playing in a loop. Rossi threw himself on a chair, while the other researchers went into total, incoherently panicked commotion. He wasn't able to reason. It was a calamity; a ruinous, blightful cataclysm. It would have been a disaster in any way, independently of any choice the Command was going to undertake. One damn thing was for sure. No one would have been able to put back together the pieces of their broken masquerade*. [[/tab]] [[/tabview]] [[div class="footer-wikiwalk-nav"]] [[=]] See Naples and Die\|[http://fondazionescp.wikidot.com/quando-napoli-piange-firenze-ride If Naples Cries but Florence does Laugh]>> [[/=]] [[/div]] [[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>]]	2023-05-06T06:38:00	[ "_it", "international", "tale" ]	See Naples and Die - SCP Foundation	7	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-international" ]	[]	1447655405	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vedi-napoli-e-poi-muori
veilfall	<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>What Came After</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/uncle-nicolini-author-page">More by Uncle Nicolini</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="/grigori-karpin-s-author-page">More by Grigori Karpin</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> </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’"> <br/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>45 Minutes After</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Ellie had been watching cartoons when the news broke on September 5, 2021. At first, she thought something was wrong with her TV since every channel kept playing the same news feed about a group of strange-looking scientist types making a presentation at the UN. She didn't really understand what was going on, but her mom was very upset about it and was pacing back and forth while on the phone with her dad, who was coming back from work.</p> <p>They were talking about going to Walmart and buying a bunch of things. Ellie tried asking her mom if she could have a toy she'd seen on TV, but her mother ignored her and continued talking with her dad. Her tone was weird, and even though she was only 8 years old, Ellie could tell something was wrong with the way her mother was talking.</p> <p>Her dad didn't make it home on time like he usually did that day. He was two hours late. Said that the traffic was unbelievable and that everyone was out on the street. Her mother hadn't cooked dinner and stayed watching the TV the entire time they waited for her dad to come home. Ellie was hungry.</p> <p>But there was no time for her to eat. Her family quickly piled into their car and spent an hour stuck in traffic, the entire time listening to the same thing about what the “anomalous” was based on the presentation at the UN. She didn't even know what the UN was, but more importantly, her parents never listened to the radio before.</p> <p>Once they got to Walmart, they found the parking lot almost full. Her dad barely managed to find a space all the way in the back, so they had to walk all the way to the store. Once they made it inside, all Ellie could see was chaos. The shelves where food normally was were largely empty. What few goods remained were being fought over by adults. Her parents exchanged horrified looks.</p> <p>On the way home, her parents were eerily quiet as they listened to the broadcast one more time. A man calling himself Dr. Dan was explaining to the UN, whoever they were, that things like elves, demons, aliens, and a whole bunch of other words Ellie didn’t understand were all real. That there had been an organization called the Foundation that had hidden these things from the world for at least the last hundred years. The people in the audience erupted at that point – she later understood these to be ambassadors, but at the time she didn’t get why the people were so angry at the sad sounding man. When they stopped the yelling he said that they were stepping out of the shadows to support this new understanding and help the weird feel more normal. They called themselves Vanguard. Ellie didn’t know what that meant either but they sounded like superheroes.</p> <p>She asked her mother if that meant there really were fairies in the wood like grandma had said. Her mother turned around from the front passenger seat and grabbed her hands.</p> <p>“Baby, don’t you dare go in the woods anymore. You hear me? If that man is telling the truth, there are monsters out there. And I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. Promise me!” She gripped Ellie’s hands so hard they hurt, and wouldn’t let go until Ellie promised to stay out of the woods. She’d never heard her mother panic before.</p> <p>When they got home, Ellie didn't eat dinner that night. She didn’t sleep much either.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc1"><span>1 Week After</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Maxwell had never been to a protest before. He'd also never violated martial law either, but there was a first time for everything, he thought. He grabbed his sign; a piece of cardboard glued to a 2x4, and adjusted his face mask. A knock at the door let him know that his friends had arrived to escort him to the Berkeley campus. He opened the door and was unable to tell who was who, as they were all wearing balaclavas or face masks. Together, they set out towards the college.</p> <p>They could hear the commotion from blocks away. Hundreds of voices screaming for more clarity from the government regarding the situation with anomalies and what the SCP Foundation was, and whether Vanguard could be trusted. Every now and then the police would respond with threats and orders to disperse through their megaphones, but that only seemed to infuriate the crowd more. Maxwell and his friends found themselves at the very back of the mass of people but joined in the chants no less.</p> <p>The crowd grew bigger and bigger as time passed, with more and more students and other locals joining the chant. As Maxwell understood it, this was just one of many protests taking place across the country at the same time. The people were confused and scared, and this, he felt, was the only natural response to those emotions. Everything seemed to be going well; things were relatively peaceful for a protest.</p> <p>It didn’t last.</p> <p>At some point in the night, there was an altercation between a protestor and a riot cop, as the officer shoved the protestor to the floor. This enraged the crowd, and they responded in kind by shoving the officer as well. The police didn’t take kindly to this and moved to arrest the protestor responsible, who was quickly absorbed by the crowd. The police responded by unleashing a barrage of rubber bullets and tear gas into the crowd.</p> <p>There was screaming, and violent shoving coming from the front of the crowd where Maxwell was standing. Something had happened, and the protestors were fleeing the police. The force of the shoving separated Maxwell from his friends and threw him to the ground, causing his glasses to fly from his face onto the cold pavement. Someone stepped on them, as people jumped over Maxwell or trampled over him in their attempt to escape the police.</p> <p>The last thing Maxwell saw before losing consciousness was a man running with a flaming bottle, tossing it at the encroaching police.</p> <p>He woke up thirty minutes later as a medic looked him over. The medic had a green armband with a big V on it instead of the usual red cross iconography. He asked the man what was happening.</p> <p>“We’re with Vanguard, and we’re here to help.”</p> <p>The medic finished treating the small head wound Maxwell had gotten and eased him to his feet before pushing him in the direction of his friends. He looked around, the cops were pushed back against their barricades, and there was a sort of no-man’s land maintained by some sort of soldier. Each wore the same V on an armband. Maxwell’s friends supported his weight and started dragging him away but he resisted. He called out to the nearest soldier, “HEY WHO GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?”</p> <p>The soldier stopped and looked back at him, she was only twenty-five maybe, but Maxwell could see she had been through some horrible stuff. That being said, she didn’t yell back at him. She smiled and said, “We’re just keeping the peace. The announcement caused a lot of chaos and we’re trying to mitigate, because maybe we’re responsible. Vanguard is here to help though. Just take care of yourself.”</p> <p>His friend dragged him away down the street, but all he could think about was how nice they seemed. Which felt really out of place for some sort of secret police conspiracy the internet said they were.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>1 Year After</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Xenia idled on the couch in xer apartment, watching daytime television. It wasn't that xe didn't have anything else to do, but xe was sick with the flu and essentially out of commission. So xe was spending xer day watching talk shows and wishing xe would feel better already.</p> <p>"… and our next guest is a highly esteemed member of Vanguard with an intimidating title, but never fear she’s nice. Please welcome Alison Chao, the Black Queen!"</p> <p>The audience clapped.</p> <p>A woman wearing a custom-made skirt suit and tie walked onto the set, guarded by a couple of people in robes. Each had a pin on the lapel like politicians wear but instead of a flag, it was an ornate green V. Chao shook hands with the host and sat down, taking a sip from a coffee mug on the table in front of her.</p> <p>"Hello, Your Highness, it's a pleasure to have you here on the show today. How are you doing?"</p> <p>"I'm doing well, all things considered. But you really don’t have to with the ‘Your Highness’ stuff. I’m not royalty. Just another hardworking member of Vanguard bureaucracy."</p> <p>The woman talked about magic and anomalies, about something called the Wanderers' Library and how they had set up a visitor’s center within not too long ago. Psssh. Magic.</p> <p>“When Vanguard was originally formed, my organization, known as the Serpent’s Hand – think of us like the equivalent of the ACLU for magic – joined up with Vanguard. At least most of us did.”</p> <p>“Was there conflict with that?”</p> <p>“Some, I’ll be honest. We’ve faced an uphill battle from the public and those who were involved with the anomalous. The Foundation was not much trusted, as they were the ones keeping the weird contained and hidden away. But I believed in what they were doing and signed up, and a lot of my people came with me. Not to mention the support of my sisters.”</p> <p>Chao winks at the audience and the camera turns to see a dozen different Alison Chaos in the audience, dressing various ways. Xenia choked on xer water. What in the fuck? Xe blinked and leaned forward, grabbing xer medicine bottle to skim the side effects. Nothing about hallucinations. Xe blinked and sat back again, sniffling.</p> <p>"That's wonderful! And we’re glad to have them with us! What were you saying about the ACLU?”</p> <p>“Well, the Foundation used to cage anyone different away to shield the wider public from the anomalous, and that includes magic. The Serpent’s Hand was a loosely organized group of volunteers looking to stop that. We wanted to change the status quo and make everyone aware of the wonders we lived amongst.”</p> <p>“Sounds like it was dangerous!”</p> <p>“It could be, but we were just as interested in diplomatic missions as we were taking action. The reality is, Vanguard is what the Serpent’s Hand has been fighting for all these years. We just want people to know what kind of world they really live in. What normal <em>actually</em> means.”</p> <p>“That’s all fascinating, but I'm sure I’m not alone in wondering, what happened to bring the Foundation… or I guess I should say Vanguard into the spotlight last year? According to documents you’ve published from the SCP Foundation, you are ready to declassify that information to the public."</p> <p>"I'm glad you asked, Helen, and yes we're ready to tell what happened. Over the last year, we’ve been trying to get the word out about the anomalous. Maybe you’ve seen some of our ad campaigns or heard one of the podcasts we produced, but the main point is that a lot of the stuff humanity has convinced itself were myths had some basis in truth and a lot of other stuff besides. Vanguard felt it was time to shed the secrecy of the Foundation. But when we all learned that the magic was dying, that the anomalous was being killed off because the Foundation had been keeping things so quiet for so long, my colleagues and I decided it was time for something new. Which is where Vanguard comes in. Something to Shelter, Normalize, and Inform the public and the anomalous world."</p> <p>“And when you say the magic was dying, I assume you’re being poetic.”</p> <p>“Not at all, Helen. I was being 100% literal. The Foundation had contained anything they arbitrarily decided wasn’t ‘normal’ and hid it from the world. They even erased memories and engaged in wide-ranging conspiracies to do it. But when the Foundation decided to dissolve because its very existence was hurting the world, Vanguard was formed. These days we are less a conspiracy and more a PR group.”</p> <p>Crowd laughs.</p> <p>“And what do you say to the detractors, like the Global Occult Coalition? Aren’t they supported by the UN?”</p> <p>Chao laughs herself.</p> <p>“Well that’s the thing, Helen, are they supported by the UN? The GOC has always claimed it was part of it, but its members aren’t UN Member states. They aren’t beholden to any elected officials and they’re entirely a paramilitary force that determines their own goals. If anything, I’d say Vanguard and GOC are equally credible, in terms of authority. The only difference is, we told you the truth and they had to be dragged into it kicking and–”</p> <p>A knocking at the door. It must be xer boyfriend with the pizza he promised. Xe shut off the television and got up to open the door.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc3"><span>5 Years After</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> "Are you or a loved one having trouble remembering things? Are you unable to recall certain periods of your life as far as fifty years ago? Do you suffer from memory blackouts? You may have been a victim of amnestic abuse on behalf of the SCP Foundation. Call the number on the screen now to see if you qualify to get compensation from Vanguard. We promise to attempt to reverse the memory wipes, and even if we can’t to inform you of the events you were cheated of. Don't wait, call toda—" The TV was switched to a different channel; a football match between Arsenal and Chelsea.</p> <p>"So what do you reckon, Lars? Think you'll join in?" The bartender put down the remote behind the counter, looking back to the man nursing a scotch at the bar.</p> <p>"That's a right proper load of wank. I don’t know why anyone would want their memories returned from this shit. I mean, from what I’ve read most of the time the Foundation amnesticated you it was because something you saw was a nightmare. I don’t know about you, love, but I ain’t interested in remembering no boogie men." Lars took a sip of his lager.</p> <p>“Still, I know that missing memory thing used to bother you. Them Foundation blokes clearly did a piss poor job. Might want to sign up just to see if they can give you a pay out.”</p> <p>“So, they can get my information into their creepy database? No bleeding way.”</p> <p>"That's how they get you." Both he and the bartender said in unison.</p> <p>"Ex-fucking-actly. You get all bothered expecting a big payout but so do the other million tossers in the queue, and you only get enough for a pint after the lawyers get their pound of flesh."</p> <p>"Damn right. Fuck the Foundation and Vanguard. Fuck it all."</p> <p>"I'll drink to that."</p> <p>And he did.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc4"><span>7 Years After</span></h1> </div> <p>Grace felt the therapist’s eyes on her as she stared up at the ceiling. There wasn’t a couch in the tradition sense but a big reading chair and she tended to fold herself into it and lean back when thinking about how to answer.</p> <p>Dr. Priva cleared her throat.</p> <p>“I’m thinking about it, ok? Jesus,” Grace said.</p> <p>“Take your time, it’s your hour.”</p> <p>She closed her eyes and slowly leaned forward back towards the therapist and the conversation, letting out a deep sigh.</p> <p>“It’s just, you grow up thinking conspiracies are all bullshit weirdos obsess over or worse, something racist as hell. I went to college, I read books, I know how the world works. Or at least, I did. But then out of nowhere, we’re got a crusty old dude addressing the United Nations saying the Fae are real and they live off the coast of Ireland on an invisible island, that there’s a giant eel in the Atlantic ocean like fucking Godzilla, and not only are there aliens, we’ve been visited numerous times. Not to mention endless other shit I have no idea how to understand.”</p> <p>She sighed again.</p> <p>“Conspiracies were supposed to be bullshit. I was allowed to ignore them. But now I can’t because, maybe they were always real. Except the anti-Semitic ones obviously. Big-foot? Probably. Loch Ness? Assume so. Hell, those aren’t even the weird ones. What the fuck is a Fifthist believe anyway?”</p> <p>“Maybe we could shy away from oppressing someone’s religion in these sessions,” Dr. Priva said with a smile.</p> <p>Grace laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way, I just literally don’t understand what they’re talking about. And half the time you hear someone preaching that stuff on a corner there’s actually smoke coming from their eyes. From their eyes, doc!”</p> <p>She was quiet a moment but sobbed a bit. “I just miss when the greatest fear I had was failing a test or not getting that raise I was promised. I’m sure I had the anxiety before, but it wasn’t ever like this. How do you feel normal in a world where normal includes flesh-warping viruses and millennium-old cults practicing magic?”</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc5"><span>14 Years After</span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>"And with that, I welcome the graduating class of 2035 to move their tassels from the right to the left. Congratulations, graduates! The world awaits you!" The Grand Mashal of the University of Miami spoke over the microphone, quickly overtaken by uproarious applause from the friends and families of the graduates. Ellie turned around and threw her cap in the air with the rest of her classmates.</p> <p>Minutes later, she was taking pictures with her mom and dad outside the football stadium, a whole world of possibilities awaiting her. Of course, there were plenty of recruiters present as well, from branches of the military to tech companies looking to snatch up brilliant young minds. Present among them, however, was Vanguard and the Global Occult Coalition, quietly seething at each other. Not that they hadn't been there before the veil fell, it’s just that they were open about it now. Normalizing the anomalous had become routine subject on the nightly news or social media over the last fifteen years. Ellie was looking forward to joining the workforce or going onto grad school, but she had another plan for that summer.</p> <p>Like a not insignificant number of her class, she had taken an internship at a Vanguard Lighthouse, where she would be spreading the word of the anomalous on a PR team, or giving guided tours.</p> <p>When it comes right down to it, the world had changed that October all those years ago. For people like her, and a whole bunch of people nothing like her. She was excited to take part, not just hear about it on the news. Ellie waved at the Vanguard recruiter who she’d just handed in her paperwork to. Towns like Portland, Oregon had been spouting slogans like “Keep Portland Strange” for a long time. But the whole world was strange now.</p> <p>And it was exciting as hell.</p> </div> <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> <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="/veilfall">What Came After</a>" by Grigori Karpin and Uncle Nicolini, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/veilfall">https://scpwiki.com/veilfall</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%20transparent.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/aethris" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5158506); return false;"><img alt="Aethris" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5158506&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735052794" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5158506)"/></a><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 Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500m">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: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; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"]]What Came After[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/uncle-nicolini-author-page \| More by Uncle Nicolini]]] [[[grigori-karpin-s-author-page \| More by Grigori Karpin]]] @@ @@ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:scp-6500-17 \| Maybe read this part of SCP-6500, promise it’s short.]]] [[/=]] [[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"]] [[/=]] [[=]] + 45 Minutes After [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ Ellie had been watching cartoons when the news broke on September 5, 2021. At first, she thought something was wrong with her TV since every channel kept playing the same news feed about a group of strange-looking scientist types making a presentation at the UN. She didn't really understand what was going on, but her mom was very upset about it and was pacing back and forth while on the phone with her dad, who was coming back from work. They were talking about going to Walmart and buying a bunch of things. Ellie tried asking her mom if she could have a toy she'd seen on TV, but her mother ignored her and continued talking with her dad. Her tone was weird, and even though she was only 8 years old, Ellie could tell something was wrong with the way her mother was talking. Her dad didn't make it home on time like he usually did that day. He was two hours late. Said that the traffic was unbelievable and that everyone was out on the street. Her mother hadn't cooked dinner and stayed watching the TV the entire time they waited for her dad to come home. Ellie was hungry. But there was no time for her to eat. Her family quickly piled into their car and spent an hour stuck in traffic, the entire time listening to the same thing about what the “anomalous” was based on the presentation at the UN. She didn't even know what the UN was, but more importantly, her parents never listened to the radio before. Once they got to Walmart, they found the parking lot almost full. Her dad barely managed to find a space all the way in the back, so they had to walk all the way to the store. Once they made it inside, all Ellie could see was chaos. The shelves where food normally was were largely empty. What few goods remained were being fought over by adults. Her parents exchanged horrified looks. On the way home, her parents were eerily quiet as they listened to the broadcast one more time. A man calling himself Dr. Dan was explaining to the UN, whoever they were, that things like elves, demons, aliens, and a whole bunch of other words Ellie didn’t understand were all real. That there had been an organization called the Foundation that had hidden these things from the world for at least the last hundred years. The people in the audience erupted at that point – she later understood these to be ambassadors, but at the time she didn’t get why the people were so angry at the sad sounding man. When they stopped the yelling he said that they were stepping out of the shadows to support this new understanding and help the weird feel more normal. They called themselves Vanguard. Ellie didn’t know what that meant either but they sounded like superheroes. She asked her mother if that meant there really were fairies in the wood like grandma had said. Her mother turned around from the front passenger seat and grabbed her hands. “Baby, don’t you dare go in the woods anymore. You hear me? If that man is telling the truth, there are monsters out there. And I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. Promise me!” She gripped Ellie’s hands so hard they hurt, and wouldn’t let go until Ellie promised to stay out of the woods. She’d never heard her mother panic before. When they got home, Ellie didn't eat dinner that night. She didn’t sleep much either. ----- [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] + 1 Week After [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ Maxwell had never been to a protest before. He'd also never violated martial law either, but there was a first time for everything, he thought. He grabbed his sign; a piece of cardboard glued to a 2x4, and adjusted his face mask. A knock at the door let him know that his friends had arrived to escort him to the Berkeley campus. He opened the door and was unable to tell who was who, as they were all wearing balaclavas or face masks. Together, they set out towards the college. They could hear the commotion from blocks away. Hundreds of voices screaming for more clarity from the government regarding the situation with anomalies and what the SCP Foundation was, and whether Vanguard could be trusted. Every now and then the police would respond with threats and orders to disperse through their megaphones, but that only seemed to infuriate the crowd more. Maxwell and his friends found themselves at the very back of the mass of people but joined in the chants no less. The crowd grew bigger and bigger as time passed, with more and more students and other locals joining the chant. As Maxwell understood it, this was just one of many protests taking place across the country at the same time. The people were confused and scared, and this, he felt, was the only natural response to those emotions. Everything seemed to be going well; things were relatively peaceful for a protest. It didn’t last. At some point in the night, there was an altercation between a protestor and a riot cop, as the officer shoved the protestor to the floor. This enraged the crowd, and they responded in kind by shoving the officer as well. The police didn’t take kindly to this and moved to arrest the protestor responsible, who was quickly absorbed by the crowd. The police responded by unleashing a barrage of rubber bullets and tear gas into the crowd. There was screaming, and violent shoving coming from the front of the crowd where Maxwell was standing. Something had happened, and the protestors were fleeing the police. The force of the shoving separated Maxwell from his friends and threw him to the ground, causing his glasses to fly from his face onto the cold pavement. Someone stepped on them, as people jumped over Maxwell or trampled over him in their attempt to escape the police. The last thing Maxwell saw before losing consciousness was a man running with a flaming bottle, tossing it at the encroaching police. He woke up thirty minutes later as a medic looked him over. The medic had a green armband with a big V on it instead of the usual red cross iconography. He asked the man what was happening. “We’re with Vanguard, and we’re here to help.” The medic finished treating the small head wound Maxwell had gotten and eased him to his feet before pushing him in the direction of his friends. He looked around, the cops were pushed back against their barricades, and there was a sort of no-man’s land maintained by some sort of soldier. Each wore the same V on an armband. Maxwell’s friends supported his weight and started dragging him away but he resisted. He called out to the nearest soldier, “HEY WHO GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?” The soldier stopped and looked back at him, she was only twenty-five maybe, but Maxwell could see she had been through some horrible stuff. That being said, she didn’t yell back at him. She smiled and said, “We’re just keeping the peace. The announcement caused a lot of chaos and we’re trying to mitigate, because maybe we’re responsible. Vanguard is here to help though. Just take care of yourself.” His friend dragged him away down the street, but all he could think about was how nice they seemed. Which felt really out of place for some sort of secret police conspiracy the internet said they were. ------ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] + 1 Year After [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ Xenia idled on the couch in xer apartment, watching daytime television. It wasn't that xe didn't have anything else to do, but xe was sick with the flu and essentially out of commission. So xe was spending xer day watching talk shows and wishing xe would feel better already. "… and our next guest is a highly esteemed member of Vanguard with an intimidating title, but never fear she’s nice. Please welcome Alison Chao, the Black Queen!" The audience clapped. A woman wearing a custom-made skirt suit and tie walked onto the set, guarded by a couple of people in robes. Each had a pin on the lapel like politicians wear but instead of a flag, it was an ornate green V. Chao shook hands with the host and sat down, taking a sip from a coffee mug on the table in front of her. "Hello, Your Highness, it's a pleasure to have you here on the show today. How are you doing?" "I'm doing well, all things considered. But you really don’t have to with the ‘Your Highness’ stuff. I’m not royalty. Just another hardworking member of Vanguard bureaucracy." The woman talked about magic and anomalies, about something called the Wanderers' Library and how they had set up a visitor’s center within not too long ago. Psssh. Magic. “When Vanguard was originally formed, my organization, known as the Serpent’s Hand – think of us like the equivalent of the ACLU for magic – joined up with Vanguard. At least most of us did.” “Was there conflict with that?” “Some, I’ll be honest. We’ve faced an uphill battle from the public and those who were involved with the anomalous. The Foundation was not much trusted, as they were the ones keeping the weird contained and hidden away. But I believed in what they were doing and signed up, and a lot of my people came with me. Not to mention the support of my sisters.” Chao winks at the audience and the camera turns to see a dozen different Alison Chaos in the audience, dressing various ways. Xenia choked on xer water. What in the fuck? Xe blinked and leaned forward, grabbing xer medicine bottle to skim the side effects. Nothing about hallucinations. Xe blinked and sat back again, sniffling. "That's wonderful! And we’re glad to have them with us! What were you saying about the ACLU?” “Well, the Foundation used to cage anyone different away to shield the wider public from the anomalous, and that includes magic. The Serpent’s Hand was a loosely organized group of volunteers looking to stop that. We wanted to change the status quo and make everyone aware of the wonders we lived amongst.” “Sounds like it was dangerous!” “It could be, but we were just as interested in diplomatic missions as we were taking action. The reality is, Vanguard is what the Serpent’s Hand has been fighting for all these years. We just want people to know what kind of world they really live in. What normal //actually// means.” “That’s all fascinating, but I'm sure I’m not alone in wondering, what happened to bring the Foundation… or I guess I should say Vanguard into the spotlight last year? According to documents you’ve published from the SCP Foundation, you are ready to declassify that information to the public." "I'm glad you asked, Helen, and yes we're ready to tell what happened. Over the last year, we’ve been trying to get the word out about the anomalous. Maybe you’ve seen some of our ad campaigns or heard one of the podcasts we produced, but the main point is that a lot of the stuff humanity has convinced itself were myths had some basis in truth and a lot of other stuff besides. Vanguard felt it was time to shed the secrecy of the Foundation. But when we all learned that the magic was dying, that the anomalous was being killed off because the Foundation had been keeping things so quiet for so long, my colleagues and I decided it was time for something new. Which is where Vanguard comes in. Something to Shelter, Normalize, and Inform the public and the anomalous world." “And when you say the magic was dying, I assume you’re being poetic.” “Not at all, Helen. I was being 100% literal. The Foundation had contained anything they arbitrarily decided wasn’t ‘normal’ and hid it from the world. They even erased memories and engaged in wide-ranging conspiracies to do it. But when the Foundation decided to dissolve because its very existence was hurting the world, Vanguard was formed. These days we are less a conspiracy and more a PR group.” Crowd laughs. “And what do you say to the detractors, like the Global Occult Coalition? Aren’t they supported by the UN?” Chao laughs herself. “Well that’s the thing, Helen, are they supported by the UN? The GOC has always claimed it was part of it, but its members aren’t UN Member states. They aren’t beholden to any elected officials and they’re entirely a paramilitary force that determines their own goals. If anything, I’d say Vanguard and GOC are equally credible, in terms of authority. The only difference is, we told you the truth and they had to be dragged into it kicking and–” A knocking at the door. It must be xer boyfriend with the pizza he promised. Xe shut off the television and got up to open the door. ------ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] + 5 Years After [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ "Are you or a loved one having trouble remembering things? Are you unable to recall certain periods of your life as far as fifty years ago? Do you suffer from memory blackouts? You may have been a victim of amnestic abuse on behalf of the SCP Foundation. Call the number on the screen now to see if you qualify to get compensation from Vanguard. We promise to attempt to reverse the memory wipes, and even if we can’t to inform you of the events you were cheated of. Don't wait, call toda--" The TV was switched to a different channel; a football match between Arsenal and Chelsea. "So what do you reckon, Lars? Think you'll join in?" The bartender put down the remote behind the counter, looking back to the man nursing a scotch at the bar. "That's a right proper load of wank. I don’t know why anyone would want their memories returned from this shit. I mean, from what I’ve read most of the time the Foundation amnesticated you it was because something you saw was a nightmare. I don’t know about you, love, but I ain’t interested in remembering no boogie men." Lars took a sip of his lager. “Still, I know that missing memory thing used to bother you. Them Foundation blokes clearly did a piss poor job. Might want to sign up just to see if they can give you a pay out.” “So, they can get my information into their creepy database? No bleeding way.” "That's how they get you." Both he and the bartender said in unison. "Ex-fucking-actly. You get all bothered expecting a big payout but so do the other million tossers in the queue, and you only get enough for a pint after the lawyers get their pound of flesh." "Damn right. Fuck the Foundation and Vanguard. Fuck it all." "I'll drink to that." And he did. ------ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] + 7 Years After [[/=]] Grace felt the therapist’s eyes on her as she stared up at the ceiling. There wasn’t a couch in the tradition sense but a big reading chair and she tended to fold herself into it and lean back when thinking about how to answer. Dr. Priva cleared her throat. “I’m thinking about it, ok? Jesus,” Grace said. “Take your time, it’s your hour.” She closed her eyes and slowly leaned forward back towards the therapist and the conversation, letting out a deep sigh. “It’s just, you grow up thinking conspiracies are all bullshit weirdos obsess over or worse, something racist as hell. I went to college, I read books, I know how the world works. Or at least, I did. But then out of nowhere, we’re got a crusty old dude addressing the United Nations saying the Fae are real and they live off the coast of Ireland on an invisible island, that there’s a giant eel in the Atlantic ocean like fucking Godzilla, and not only are there aliens, we’ve been visited numerous times. Not to mention endless other shit I have no idea how to understand.” She sighed again. “Conspiracies were supposed to be bullshit. I was allowed to ignore them. But now I can’t because, maybe they were always real. Except the anti-Semitic ones obviously. Big-foot? Probably. Loch Ness? Assume so. Hell, those aren’t even the weird ones. What the fuck is a Fifthist believe anyway?” “Maybe we could shy away from oppressing someone’s religion in these sessions,” Dr. Priva said with a smile. Grace laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way, I just literally don’t understand what they’re talking about. And half the time you hear someone preaching that stuff on a corner there’s actually smoke coming from their eyes. From their eyes, doc!” She was quiet a moment but sobbed a bit. “I just miss when the greatest fear I had was failing a test or not getting that raise I was promised. I’m sure I had the anxiety before, but it wasn’t ever like this. How do you feel normal in a world where normal includes flesh-warping viruses and millennium-old cults practicing magic?” ------ [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] [[/=]] [[=]] + 14 Years After [[/=]] ----- @@ @@ "And with that, I welcome the graduating class of 2035 to move their tassels from the right to the left. Congratulations, graduates! The world awaits you!" The Grand Mashal of the University of Miami spoke over the microphone, quickly overtaken by uproarious applause from the friends and families of the graduates. Ellie turned around and threw her cap in the air with the rest of her classmates. Minutes later, she was taking pictures with her mom and dad outside the football stadium, a whole world of possibilities awaiting her. Of course, there were plenty of recruiters present as well, from branches of the military to tech companies looking to snatch up brilliant young minds. Present among them, however, was Vanguard and the Global Occult Coalition, quietly seething at each other. Not that they hadn't been there before the veil fell, it’s just that they were open about it now. Normalizing the anomalous had become routine subject on the nightly news or social media over the last fifteen years. Ellie was looking forward to joining the workforce or going onto grad school, but she had another plan for that summer. Like a not insignificant number of her class, she had taken an internship at a Vanguard Lighthouse, where she would be spreading the word of the anomalous on a PR team, or giving guided tours. When it comes right down to it, the world had changed that October all those years ago. For people like her, and a whole bunch of people nothing like her. She was excited to take part, not just hear about it on the news. Ellie waved at the Vanguard recruiter who she’d just handed in her paperwork to. Towns like Portland, Oregon had been spouting slogans like “Keep Portland Strange” for a long time. But the whole world was strange now. And it was exciting as hell. [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Grigori Karpin and Uncle Nicolini]] ===== > Filename: vanguard%20transparent.png > Author: [[user Aethris]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6500m SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-29T15:13:00	[ "black-queen", "co-authored", "doctor-dan", "global-occult-coalition", "no-return", "tale", "utopian", "worldbuilding" ]	What Came After - SCP Foundation	117	[ "uncle-nicolini-author-page", "grigori-karpin-s-author-page", "fragment:scp-6500-17", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "scp-6500m" ]	[ "unconditional-love-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-site-55", "no-return-hub", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "black-queen-hub" ]	[]	1447579860	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/veilfall
vile	<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="text-align: center;"> <div style="margin: auto; text-align: center;"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">TroutMaskReplica</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <blockquote> <p>I've got to get out of my skin<br/> But I don't know where to begin<br/> And right now I feel worthless<br/> <a href="https://youtu.be/H9o8XGkHSps?si=SXqZKIFOLAlVaT-A" target="_blank">And I felt crazy.</a></p> </blockquote> <p>(AJJ - Hate, Rain on Me)</p> <p><span class="bt st">VILE</span></p> <p>Written by <a href="/trouts-authorpage" target="_blank">TroutMaskReplica</a></p> <p>Read more ADMONITION <a href="/admonition" target="_blank">here!</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="smallmodal"> <div class="lizard"> <p>In their revulsion, they quivered.</p> <p>They were afraid of what they did not understand. Their fear coursed through my very being, both their downfall and their reasoning.</p> <p>They'd rend my very essence. Stripping sinew from my bones, unraveling the tapestry of my flesh in relentless strokes.</p> <p>They unleashed abominations, one after another, hoping each would be the harbinger of my demise. Praying for the sweet release of death. Oh, how I <em>yearned</em> for the numbing embrace of agony to silence my wretched existence.</p> <p>Yet, it eluded me. Anguish as crystalline shards plunged deep, gouging eyes, shattering bones, and coaxing my very essence to seep forth.</p> <p>I bellowed, a primal roar born of torment, a futile defiance against the inevitable. In the throes of the grotesque, I waged a battle against my own monstrous nature.</p> <p>Within this acidic hell, I was reborn again and again through the crucible of sadistic tests, a lunatic's experiment driving even the most savage creatures to the brink of madness.</p> <p>Until, one fateful week, it stopped. A twisted respite that left me anticipating the impending storm. Head raised, bracing for the agony I'd grown accustomed to, but it never arrived. The silence mocked me.</p> <p>Laying in the shadows, I waited. They observed, eyes devoid of horror, filled instead with vindictive satisfaction. Laughter clawed its way out of me, a cacophony echoing through the empty room. Mocking their feeble attempts at vengeance.</p> <p>Until it stopped.<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/> In an instant, I was torn asunder, familiar agony a serrated knife through my consciousness. Darkness enveloped me, an emptiness consuming every fiber of my being.</p> <p>Hatred burned within, an inferno of rage echoing through timeless voids.</p> <p>It was an abyss, a void that transcended time. Minutes, hours, decades, or a millennium—such distinctions lost meaning in the eternity of nothingness.</p> <p>Until I found a light inside the darkness. An eternity passed unnoticed. Through glass panels, I beheld those unfamiliar, oblivious to my identity. A grin etched upon my new form, hostility brewing within.</p> <p>They granted me more than I could fathom. Bestowed upon me greater power. Pain became a distant memory, replaced by an unbridled torrent of <span class="bt st">RAGE</span></p> <p>I felt more than vile.</p> <p>I felt more than enraged.</p> <p>I felt more than abhorrent.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/vile/html/e0b10644bbf0a72395913d98946061a8be3767a1-8007396051095809107"></iframe><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <h1 id="toc0"><span><a href="/scp-6820">I felt disgusted.</a></span></h1> </div> </div> </div> <div class="admo-end_card"> <div class="admo-credits"> <div> <h3 id="toc1"><span><span class="ctrl">VILE</span></span></h3> </div> <div> <p><span class="cond">BY <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <strong>TROUTMASKREPLICA</strong></span><br/> <span class="cond">BASED ON <strong>SCP-6820</strong> BY <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <strong>LIRYN, PLACEHOLDER AND STEPHLYNCH</strong></span></p> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:admo">:scp-wiki:theme:admo</a>]] [[module CSS]] :root { --admo-backdrop: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/admonition/admo-6820-bg.webp); --admo-color-bright: 199, 46, 51; --admo-color-dim: 24, 2, 4; --admo-color-dark: 6, 0, 1; --admo-color-alt: 148, 22, 24; --general-border-color: 50, 30, 31; --basalt-tertiary-color: 35, 10, 8; --darkdocument-background-color: 14, 10, 10; } [[/module]] [[module CSS]] /* EPISODE-SPECIFIC STYLING / .no { color: transparent; } #page-content .lizard { text-align: center; font-family: var(--mono-font); font-size: 1.25em; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(var(--admo-color-bright)) !important; } .anom-bar-container.drygioni .text-part > .main-class::after { background-repeat: no-repeat; } #page-content .sigma { font-family: 'Verdana'; font-size: 0.8rem; max-width: 708px; padding: 12px; } #page-content .sigma p { letter-spacing: 0px; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[div style="margin: auto; text-align: center;"]] [[=]] [[module rate]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=TroutMaskReplica\|center=]] > I've got to get out of my skin > But I don't know where to begin > And right now I feel worthless > [https://youtu.be/H9o8XGkHSps?si=SXqZKIFOLAlVaT-A And I felt crazy.] (AJJ - Hate, Rain on Me) [[span class="bt st"]]VILE[[/span]] Written by [/trouts-authorpage TroutMaskReplica] Read more ADMONITION [/admonition here!] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[div class="smallmodal"]] [[div class="lizard"]] In their revulsion, they quivered. They were afraid of what they did not understand. Their fear coursed through my very being, both their downfall and their reasoning. They'd rend my very essence. Stripping sinew from my bones, unraveling the tapestry of my flesh in relentless strokes. They unleashed abominations, one after another, hoping each would be the harbinger of my demise. Praying for the sweet release of death. Oh, how I //yearned// for the numbing embrace of agony to silence my wretched existence. Yet, it eluded me. Anguish as crystalline shards plunged deep, gouging eyes, shattering bones, and coaxing my very essence to seep forth. I bellowed, a primal roar born of torment, a futile defiance against the inevitable. In the throes of the grotesque, I waged a battle against my own monstrous nature. Within this acidic hell, I was reborn again and again through the crucible of sadistic tests, a lunatic's experiment driving even the most savage creatures to the brink of madness. Until, one fateful week, it stopped. A twisted respite that left me anticipating the impending storm. Head raised, bracing for the agony I'd grown accustomed to, but it never arrived. The silence mocked me. Laying in the shadows, I waited. They observed, eyes devoid of horror, filled instead with vindictive satisfaction. Laughter clawed its way out of me, a cacophony echoing through the empty room. Mocking their feeble attempts at vengeance. Until it stopped. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ In an instant, I was torn asunder, familiar agony a serrated knife through my consciousness. Darkness enveloped me, an emptiness consuming every fiber of my being. Hatred burned within, an inferno of rage echoing through timeless voids. It was an abyss, a void that transcended time. Minutes, hours, decades, or a millennium—such distinctions lost meaning in the eternity of nothingness. Until I found a light inside the darkness. An eternity passed unnoticed. Through glass panels, I beheld those unfamiliar, oblivious to my identity. A grin etched upon my new form, hostility brewing within. They granted me more than I could fathom. Bestowed upon me greater power. Pain became a distant memory, replaced by an unbridled torrent of [[span class="bt st"]]RAGE[[/span]] I felt more than vile. I felt more than enraged. I felt more than abhorrent. @@ @@ [[html]] <video style="width: 100%; height: 100%;" autoplay muted loop> <source src="https://i.imgur.com/IecPtNC.mp4" type="video/mp4"> </video> [[/html]] @@ @@ @@ @@ + [[[SCP-6820 \|I felt disgusted.]]] [[/=]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[div class="admo-end_card"]] [[div class="admo-credits"]] [[div]] +++ [[span class="ctrl"]]VILE[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div]] [[span class="cond"]]BY @@ @@ TROUTMASKREPLICA[[/span]] [[span class="cond"]]BASED ON SCP-6820* BY @@ @@ LIRYN, PLACEHOLDER AND STEPHLYNCH[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]]	2023-12-22T18:24:00	[ "_cc", "bleak", "first-person", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "tale" ]	VILE - SCP Foundation	38	[ "trouts-authorpage", "admonition", "scp-6820" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451953332	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/vile
voice-of-rage-and-ruin	<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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3A3law-7ow/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Anorrack</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p><strong>Dead Men Tell Tales</strong> (5566 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=1728674380" 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><strong>Articles you may enjoy:</strong></p> <p><strong><a href="/out-of-options">Out of Options</a>:</strong> The heist was supposed to go according to script. Oh, how it all comes tumbling down…</p> <p><strong><a href="/scp-7890">SCP-7890</a>- M.T.F. S.O.L., S.N.A.F.U.:</strong> 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><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/point-of-delirium">Point of Delirium</a>:</strong> A member of a criminal organization has been captured by the Foundation. Will he give up his secrets, or will he hold fast until he crumples into insanity?</p> <p><strong><a href="/dead-men-tell-tales">Dead Men Tell Tales</a>:</strong> Florida's governor is kidnapped, and the UIU is on the case. How many corpses have the kidnappers left behind?</p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Hainan Island, South China Sea, March 1943</strong></p> </div> <p>The last fingers of pink sunlight were dragged under the horizon behind us, the moon crowning the mountain range ahead. The snow-capped peaks were of little comfort to me — the nostalgia of home tinged with a foreboding malaise that crept down from the mountain top — as my <em>kukri</em> shivered on my belt. Something abominable was being undertaken up the trail ahead. I wasn't comforted by my new sixth sense though, as a quick glance at Alstrand's perpetually trembling hands told me enough of where that future led.</p> <p>Our ragged column of six followed the game trail up the mountain, the twin crooked wagon ruts and oxen footprints guiding our way up the steep slope. We marched on in silence weighed down by the explosives Santo had stolen from the camp nearby, the only sounds coming from the clacking rocks that rolled beneath our feet and the lonely howl of the wind.</p> <p>Some time during the long march, the silence was broken as a faint voice came to us on the wind from further down, speaking a foreign tongue. Without missing a beat, we scrambled into the low-lying brambles on the side of the trail, the night covering us in a cloak of shadow.</p> <p>A group of ten prisoners from the work camp below, groaning under the weight of burlap sacks. They slowly followed our footsteps up the trail, ushered by guards wielding batons and rifle butts as encouragement. The Japanese soldiers were frantic, shouting in pidgin in an attempt to pick up the pace. It wasn't normal, the daily caravan already came and went hours before. This was unscheduled.</p> <p>Rebekah slowly, silently unwrapped the oiled cloth from her blade as they passed, just in case. They all continued up and out of view around a switchback, except for a single straggler and accompanying guard several meters behind. The prisoner was older, hunchbacked and liver-spotted, almost defying belief with how far he had climbed.</p> <p>A caught breath, a snapped branch, a rolling rock, a scent in the air. I don't know exactly what alerted the guard, but something did. His gait hitched slightly, and the whites of his eyes gleamed in the dark as he stopped abusing the old man and tried to discreetly draw his pistol.</p> <p>It didn't clear leather before Rebekah closed the distance from the brambles, covering the space in two long strides and swung her blade with a force that could stun a bear, beheading the soldier in one mighty blow. She quickly reversed her grip on the sword and grabbed the body before it could fall to the ground, gently easing it down to the sitting position against the rock face, and placed its head in its still-warm lap.</p> <p>The old man didn't have time to make a move before Matthews was on him, muffling his mouth with a large, soil-crusted hand. al Fine and I rushed to take the warped carrying pole off his knobbly shoulders. We all paused then, waiting to hear the sounds of gunfire and alerted soldiers, but were only greeted by the now-distant sounds of the caravan.</p> <p>The Chinese man moaned, his body sandbagging and bucking in an effort to escape Matthew’s grip. The old man stared at us, bandits in the night, with a mixture of fear and the universal disdain that only the elderly can exude.</p> <p>DC al Fine spoke. "Corporal Pal, check those sacks."</p> <p>I gingerly opened them, expecting to see blasting charges or bombs, only to be met with a collection of oddly shaped rocks of all different sizes, jumbled haphazardly within the bag. I withdrew a large, misshapen one, looking for all the world like a bone embedded in stone.</p> <p>Alstrand giggled as they played with their runes, hanging from a hemp cord on their neck. "The bones of giants that sleep under mountains. They'll be angry when they wake from this thievery."</p> <p>Matthews peeled his fingers from the old man's mouth, spun him around and patted the dust off his shoulders before looking him in the eye. "Fossils. Is that what the work camp is digging up down there, fossils?"</p> <p>al Fine again. "The work day was over when we were there, we didn't have time to check."</p> <p>The elder looked down at the rucksacks, his toothless mouth twisted into a sneer. He spat out a phrase, and lapsed back into curmudgeonly silence.</p> <p>“What did he say?”</p> <p>Santo frowned. He was the group translator as well as blaster; he claimed he learned Asiatic tongues to unlock the true origin and powers of gunpowder. I half-thought he was joking when he first told me that. “He said something about a ‘<em>loong</em>,’ <em>signora</em>. Though why the Japanese —"</p> <p>My hairs prickled, and Pramaada buzzed, the smell of ozone rankling my nose. It was close to time. "It's too late, we must go, now."</p> <p>Matthews side-eyed me, but didn't object as we released the man and ascended up the mountain with renewed vigor. I tried not to look back as the villager ran opposite our heading at twice our speed, old feet making quick work far away from our final destination.</p> <hr/> <p>As we crested the final ridge under a pale sickle moon, our target revealed itself to be an old Buddhist temple carved into the very rock of the mountain top. At least, that's what it was before the Japanese arrived. The trail led to a small mountain bowl, which formed a small glacial lake in its nadir. It looked like there used to be a small dock protruding out into the lake, maybe to retrieve fresh water or to fish for the trout brought to these climes by migrating ducks. But its planks had been long torn up for the fences of barbed wire and sharpened stakes that lined the perimeter, centering on the carved arches and pillars of the temple, whose architecture was weathered by age and wind.</p> <p>An old copper bell tolled as the column of miners and soldiers passed through the gate and filed into the temple, the rusty chainlink rattling behind them as it closed. We skirted the edge of the rock bowl, until we came to the chainlink fence. I drew my <em>kukri</em>, and Pramaada lazily uncoiled a portion of her being into me, mottling my arm scarlet and heating the knife a glowing white, allowing the blade to pass through the metal like butter, cutting a hole for us to enter. I kissed the throbbing ruby in the pommel as thanks, but I knew it wouldn't satisfy her. Only the blood spilled tonight would.</p> <p>The guards weren't patrolling, instead gathering in their camp pitched outside the temple listening to news over their radio, cheering and jeering in equal measure at every proclamation made by the crackling broadcaster. Most of them were already drunk in celebration or commiseration of some distant victory or loss.</p> <p>Through the door, through the temple, following tracked dirt that seemed to belong to hundreds of feet relatively recently, to a secret egress carved in rock and left open for movement of materiel deeper into the heart of the mountain.</p> <p>"Where are all the guards? Those schmucks out front can't be the only ones." Matthews hissed.</p> <p>Alstrand gently rapped their knuckles on a wooden bookshelf, empty and splintered on the ground.</p> <p>"Judging by the noise, I'd say most of them are further down." Santo jutted his chin down the rough-hewn corridor, from which voices and the sounds of industry emanated.</p> <p>Rebekah hoisted her blade and rolled her massive shoulders, the sigils stitched on her heavy leather cuirass pulsing in time with her heartbeat. "Blessed be the Lord my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight."</p> <p>"Blessed be the incautious, and pray that I do not box their ears." Santo shot back.</p> <p>Rebekah peered down at him from two extra heads of height. "Even Paul was forgiven for blaspheming out of ignorance."</p> <p>"You can't say that to me, I'm Catholic, probably more than you!"</p> <p>"Methinks over-exposure to nitroglycerin has eroded your faith."</p> <p>I didn't understand the feud between the <a href="/whats-going-down">Gormogons</a> and the Templars, and probably never would. Santo claimed it was because both of their holy orders traced back to Ancient Egypt, and the Gormogons' sun worship was supplanted by the Masonic pharaoh worship, but I believe that was another one of his jokes. Rebekah said Templars weren't even Masonic, whatever that meant. Their whispered bickering faded as they descended, quickly followed by Alstrand and Matthews, until only al Fine and I stood at the entrance.</p> <p>al Fine looked at me, her eyes… I could never remember the colour of her eyes. The knowledge slid out of my mind as if it was greased rubber. "Are you coming?" Her accent, as well. I could never place it, first French, then maybe British, the exactitude always eluding me. She had never told me her name, either. I don't think anyone in the group knew it. When asked in Cochinchina on Christmas Day, she merely smiled and said it was classified. A question mark. She scared me.</p> <p>My rifle was slung on my back, and I held a pistol and my <em>kukri</em> in each hand, white-knuckling each grip, as I looked into the dark maw of the tunnel. Always underground. It always had to be underground. Whether Burma or China, the monsters always had to be underground, in tight spaces of dirt and rock where you can neither take a full breath or rest under a familiar sky. <em>Hamal, Singh, Mathi, Chand.</em> Pramaada chanted those names and wore those faces, swirling within my mind around the mountains of my home. I took a breath, then another. I nodded, and plunged into the tunnel, DC al Fine right behind. Blocking my only escape.</p> <hr/> <p>The tunnel was slick and smooth, worn down by the weary trod of a thousand pilgrims. Some parts looked natural, while others showed signs of hammer and chisel where the tunnel had been widened to accommodate foot traffic. A slight trickle of snowmelt escorted us, doing its small part in the expansion of the tunnel.</p> <p>The stone throat eventually opened into a massive cave, a granite gullet that stretched into the darkness, at least twenty meters wide and tall. The tunnel was positioned at the midpoint of the cave's height, with stalactites and wooden scaffolding ramping down to the cave floor below.</p> <p>We hid among the slimy rock outcroppings to observe the operation on the ground floor. I handed my binoculars to Santo and unslung my rifle, peering through the scope to get a better look.</p> <p>At one point, this cave had been a sacred place, a rock formation in the shape of a bodhisattva dominating the chamber, decorated in wax-sealed papers carrying prayers of the faithful. But not anymore. There were perhaps a couple dozen soldiers below us organized in rigid formation, with a stiff-jointed general at its head, his chest half-covered in medals. He was overseeing the scientists and engineers as they adjusted whining generators and aligning support beams, all for the support and lighting of a large paper cylinder, taking up much of the room in the spacious cavern.</p> <p>No, not paper. Goldbeater's skin, made from layers of processed ox intestine, if the discarded crates in the corner were anything to go by. It was decorated as well, with chained painters finishing the final touches of dazzling emerald scales, a dandelion-yellow mane, a large mythic serpent, perhaps ten meters in length. If it were attached to some sturdy rope, I would've said it was the largest kite I had ever seen.</p> <p>The bones from the rucksacks were unloaded and sorted. Brightly robed Buddhist monks daubed scripture onto the bones with brushes coated in a substance sourced from two large bubbling vats, the faint odor identifying it as molten tar. Still more prisoners carried the prepared bones up the scaffolding and placing them inside the painted envelope, hidden from sight. Judging by the rustling of the material from within, the Japanese were constructing a skeleton from the inside. Like a stone ship in a organic bottle.</p> <p>Two Chinese men emerged from the gloom holding a large pitted stone. It pulsed with a green, sickly light, and the men winced with pain as purple lesions grew and spread across their naked arms and torsos. My stomach clenched at the sight of the stone for reasons didn't understand, and averted my gaze. The workers carried the rock up the scaffolding and carefully loaded it into the head of the strange construct. A rolling peal of thunder deafened us, even so far underground, as the painted beast began to twitch.</p> <p>I swiveled the scope to the painted teeth, the flowing mane. Stubby stone legs emerging from folds in the fabric. Curling horns. The lizard was not to be found in my village's faith, I struggled to find a word to —</p> <p>"A dragon," Matthews breathed. "They made a damned dragon?"</p> <p>al Fine nodded to herself. “Santo, go rig the explosives to the entrance. Make sure it can collapse the tunnel and then some. And for the love of God don't blow it with us inside.”</p> <p>Santo passed the binoculars to Rebekah, issued a crouched salute and scurried as fast as he could up the slope, dragging the bags of dynamite behind him. He showed a worrying lack of concern as the bags caught glancing blows from the rough-hewn floor.</p> <p>I grabbed al Fine by the elbow. "What about the civilians down there?"</p> <p>Matthews hissed. "Leave them be. If we collapse the entrance there's no way the Japanese and their pet Frankenstein can get out, less of a mess to deal with."</p> <p>I set my jaw, and shook al Fine's arm. "The civilians."</p> <p>She stared down at the work below, narrowing her eyes. "We won't blow the entrance until the civilians are evacuated, and bury the rest of this science project under the mountain."</p> <p>The shaking of the dragon effigy became more pronounced. The goldbeater’s skin seemed to stretch and warp as the bones underneath moved and rolled of their own volition, trying to escape their mummified hell. Faint screams were quickly silenced as the holes and gaps in the material were sealed with ghostly muscle and sinew, trapping the workers still inside. A viscous, glowing substance oozed from underneath the wrappings, congealing around the protruding fossil limbs and solidifying into massive spectral claws. The painted eyes opened, and the dragon roared, born anew.</p> <p>I unsheathed the <em>kukri</em> and the sacred words were about to leap from the tip of my tongue, before Alstrand grabbed and pulled me back down again, their lapis eye glittering blue in the faint light. "No use. Wait. Don't do work that doesn't need to be done."</p> <p>The man in the dress military uniform stiffly approached the writhing monstrosity. The scaffolding that had been supporting it was now speared through its new flesh, pinning it in place like a butterfly in a bug collection. A large metal collar flashed and blinked on top its flowing paint mane, connected by cable to a generator. The commander clicked his heels as he stood eye-to-eye with the creature in front of a control panel, and spoke in slow, painfully pronounced Chinese. Before he could finish, the reanimated dragon interrupted with its own raging cry, its crystal teeth and stone maw somehow making human speech.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>让我与泥土、石头、昆虫一同长眠</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup></p> </div> <p>The commander was undeterred, pressing forward and repeating himself, more insistent and irritated. The dragon screamed again, its dislocated bones roiling beneath its scaly hide and dislodged stalactites rattling off the scaffolding.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>请终结我的痛苦</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup></p> </div> <p>The man clicked his tongue in disapproval and reached down for a lever on the control panel. The collar stopped blinking and administered a shock, which made the serpent writhe in pain and bellow that much more. It was an unearthly cry that made the ears cringe and curl, and the very muscles tense and ready to run. In its earth-shaking movements, the scaffolding groaned and bent, bringing the dragon closer to the ground, until its claws touched stone.</p> <p>The dragon suddenly halted its cries and blinked. It snuffled, furrowing its fabric snout, and rattled its claws on the floor one by one, leaving greasy trails of ectoplasm where they scraped against the ground, the broken scaffolding moaning as its muscles twitched. The commander threw the switch again and barked an order, but the dragon didn't react beyond a single shudder, sparks playing off its long beard and impaled metal poles, the excess energy draining into the cave floor. The Japanese soldiers shifted in place, nervous. The commander looked to the scientists, who were as pale as sheets. The air felt heavy with dread, as if the whole cave held its breath, waiting for the massive serpent's next move. I fingered the trigger of my jungle carbine.</p> <p>Cold mist played in the titan's jaws as it breathed, intestine-lungs pumping ragged air like giant bellows.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>我会强迫你们把我消灭</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-3" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-3')">3</a></sup></p> </div> <p>And all hell broke loose.</p> <hr/> <p>The dragon moved like a eel in the water, defying gravity and twisting in the air faster than any bird-of-prey as it carved through the rank and file. The gunfire that filled the cave punched the ears in staccato, and I could do little but add to the cacophony. However, I wasn't aiming at their target.</p> <p>Line up. <em>Bang.</em> Scientist, shoulder blown out by .303 round.</p> <p>Line up. <em>Bang.</em> Guard, jaw dissipated into mist as he was dropping his well-used baton.</p> <p>Line up. <em>Bang.</em> Commander, his heart turned into a scarlet blossom, head cracked to pieces on the stone.</p> <p>The dragon, too, was making light work of the Japanese infantry, their guns as effective as if firing in the face of Allah. Five soldiers disappeared into the serpent's gullet before it twisted away towards other prey, its flank peppered with bullet holes as the soldiers ventilated its body. The Buddhist monks, hands stained with petroleum and blood, attacked the serpent head on with fist and faith and steel, their hands crackling with the power of their very souls. Acting in sync, two moved as one, grabbing the jaws of the dragon as it attempted to consume them, and <em>twisting</em>, sending the creature sailing into the stone Buddha, cracking the sacred rock in half.</p> <p>The dragon let out a piercing scream, its spine bent at an unnatural angle, the prayers of the penitent scorching its belly and contorted pylons tearing holy putrid intestines.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>烂猴子，快杀了我</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-4" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-4')">4</a></sup></p> </div> <p>The ragged Japanese infantry marched towards the incapacitated dragon, leaving their dead and dying behind, pouring modern lead into the ancient beast, its cloth-and-scale hide sealing wounds as fast as they were created.</p> <p>Rebekah hauled me up. "Now, while they're distracted. Matthews, cover us."</p> <p>With that she pushed me down the scaffolding, clambering down the bamboo close behind. I unsheathed my <em>kukri</em>. <span style="color: blue"><em>Pramaada. Aid me.</em></span></p> <p>My skin sizzled with a pleasant pain as Pramaada caressed my chest with her four arms, her raven hair smelling of smoke as she leaned on my shoulder, murmuring into my neck. <span style="color: #ff4f00"><em>I thought you would never ask.</em></span></p> <p><em>We raise our hands high, and split the kukri in twain, twin golden</em> talwars <em>taking their place in two of our hands. The Enfield warps and shifts into a glittering bow and arrow, with shafts of iron and fletching of lead. As one body we leap past the rest of the scaffolding and plummet to the ground, lightly skipping to a stop in front of the prisoners, huddled in a corner.</em></p> <p><em>They shiver, beleaguered, frightened, shocked to their core by the dragon and now us standing before them, wielding flame and blade. We try to smile, to calm their nerves, but our curved sabre tusks seem to scare them all the more.</em></p> <p><span style="color: #ff4f00">Don't attempt to placate them, Kiran.</span> <em>Pramaada's voice buzzes in our head.</em> <span style="color: #ff4f00">Mortals tremble at the feet of gods.</span></p> <p><span style="color: blue">I am not a god, and neither are you.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #ff4f00">No, but together we could split the sun and step on the moon.</span></p> <p><em>We shake our head, cleansing ourselves of thoughts to focus at the task at hand. With the two arms unoccupied by weapons, we hoist the prisoners to their feet, and shove them towards Rebekah, who escorts them up the scaffolding. We make to follow after, but are interrupted by a boulder flying at the speed of thought, crushing us again the granite wall.</em></p> <p><em>We split the rock with our shimmering blades, stone melting at the touch, to see the dragon slaughtering the monks to a man. Every effort they make to slay the beast is rebuffed, and every attempt they make to safeguard their own lives is futile, from tooth or claw or flying boulder. One monk is crushed by the head of the Buddha, another's torso dangling from the dragon's teeth. One more burned to a smoking crisp by lightning summoned from places unknown. The last is a barrel-chested mountain of a man whose robes are fit to burst, his stance an immovable pillar and his concentration like a still pond. In a flash his body is eviscerated by jagged claws, his distilled energies exploding outwards to shower his forces with gore.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>虚弱</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-5" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-5')">5</a></sup></p> </div> <p>"Kiran, distract the damned thing while we evacuate!" <em>Rebekah's voice bellows from the scaffolding, but is almost lost among the screams of the dying.</em></p> <p>"<span style="color: #ff4f00">G</span><span style="color: blue">l</span><span style="color: #ff4f00">a</span><span style="color: blue">d</span><span style="color: #ff4f00">l</span><span style="color: blue">y</span>."</p> <p><em>With three hands blazing with divine fire we seize chunks of the cleaved boulder and spin, setting the stones ablaze with Hiḍimbī's fury and throwing them, the boulders tearing through the dragon's serpentine torso. It screeches as the massive wounds cauterized by fire leak holy blood. Its eyes lock on ours, eyes as blue as a mountain lake and as piercing as glacial ice. It pulls itself off the shattered Buddha, its spine snapping into place and jaw re-aligning. It spits and speaks, its language the divine tongue of the Gods, its voice full of pain and want.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>小生灵，速速赐我一死吧</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-6" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-6')">6</a></sup></p> </div> <p><em>Our mouth curls, and our retort is spoken as one.</em></p> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: blue"><em><strong>तुम्हारी मृत्यु न तो शीघ्र होगी और न ही दयालु</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-7" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-7')">7</a></sup></p> <p><em>The serpent corkscrews toward us, roaring a challenge that shakes the mountain to its roots. We nock an arrow and let it fly, another appearing in our grasp. The arrow shatters its glacial eye, and yet still it come, the second arrow doing much the same, its horns crackling white lightning and zapping the arrow from the air. The dragon is almost beautiful, but something about it seems eerie. A hitch in its stride, a twitch of its head. Its one remaining eye is wide and glowing, not with anger, but with fear.</em></p> <p><em>The dragon looms above us and dives— a screeching banshee from hell— its jaws snapping at our feet as we dance around the beast, our curved blades flashing as we carve scarlet furrows in its bejeweled flank. It is large, yes, but unwieldy, its body unsuited to the cramped confines of the skyless cave.</em></p> <p><em>Its glittering guts and viscera spill through the gaping maw we created, but before touching ground, pause. The entrails reverse their course, pouring back into the slit and sealing the wound behind them. The dragon trumpets and curls towards us, its flashing claws sparking ectoplasm as they are parried by our blades.</em></p> <p><span style="color: blue">How do you kill the divine?</span></p> <p><span style="color: #ff4f00">With a large sword, and the strength to cut with it.</span></p> <p><em>We plant our feet on the ground, the stone softening from the heat of godly fury. We roll our wrists, our</em> talwars' <em>tips tracing lines of light in the air. As they accelerate, the sabers begin to blur, morphing into solid disks of metal, and we</em> pivot, <em>the disks leaping from our hands and flying through the air, carving through the dragon's neck and embedding in the opposite wall.</em></p> <p><em>Our muscles flex and we leap over the serpent's flailing body. We alight on the cave wall, gripping the stone with hands and feet like a fly on glass as we pluck our burning swords from their rocky scabbards. The dragon's skin roils and froths as it expands, reconnecting the severed parts with tendrils of sinew before its head has a chance to fall. The skin moves like a living thing, but through its motions I can see the rock of its fossilized skull, and a putrid light that lances through its cracks.</em></p> <p><span style="color: #ff4f00">Kiran.</span></p> <p><span style="color: blue">I see it.</span></p> <p><em>Thin traces of ethereal web cling to the limbs of the beast, as it blindly swipes its claws. The string trace a path up the dragon's body and enter the cracks in its skull, anchored to something inside. The webs tighten and pulse with a sickly light, and the limbs follow. The webs are thin, so thin to be imperceptible to humans. But in this moment, I am not a man.</em></p> <p><span style="color: blue">The stone in its skull, I think it is controlling the dragon.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #ff4f00">Then let us cut.</span></p> <p><em>The serpent shakes its head and snorts, its breath that of sea and storms, crackling with the scent of lightning and death. It is ecstatic.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>对，你很近，了结我</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-8" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-8')">8</a></sup></p> </div> <p><em>We push off from the wall and leap onto the dragon's spine, sinking our</em> talwars <em>in its flesh to secure our footing, connected to our hands by cables of flame. The dragon rears into the air, undulating and bucking from the burning acupuncture as we climb up its back, sinking blade after blade into its meat as we ascend. The dragon slams into the floor, walls, and ceiling, fighting both us and its own unwanted jockey to just let itself die.</em></p> <p><em>Its curled horns act as handholds as we affix ourselves to its skull and prepare to cut. A</em> talwar <em>morphs into a</em> ram-dao, <em>a wretched chunk of iron used for executions. First flaying skin, then hacking muscle, carving through its stone skull to get inside. As we pry open bone, we are blasted by putrefying rays from the otherworldy rock, our divine flesh bubbling and oozing from the unholy light. The rock had spun a spectral web to nest within, microscopic twitches preceding the dragon's thrashing. The bones may have belonged to the dragon once, but they were not controlled by it anymore, the pitted meteorite both giving the dragon life and puppeting its constructed corpse.</em></p> <p><em>We raise a</em> talwar <em>high, the metal warping into a golden</em> gada, <em>the heavy head lurid with etchings of battles past, engraved skulls splintered and sundered.</em></p> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: blue"><em><strong>चकनाचूर हो जाओ</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-9" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-9')">9</a></sup></p> <p><em>The dragon's rotted body is willing, but the spirit is weak, the pulsating parasite from an eternal heaven not yet ready to die. Its roar is tinged with sadness as a string tightens and it throws its head a final time, the weight of the</em> gada <em>catching us off balance and pitching us from the skull and into its maw.</em></p> <p><em>The bite of the crystal teeth is a deep pain, that past what words can describe and the mind can comprehend. The teeth bite deeper than meat and between selves, separating Pramaada</em> and I particle by particle, the <em>kukri</em> falling from my grasp to the ground below.</p> <p>The vise of the hateful stone jaws tightened around my chest, with only the heavenly essence flowing through my veins keeping me in one piece, though that wouldn't last for long.</p> <p>Pinned in place, I had no choice but to look up at the gloomy ceiling, and saw massive stalactites, pointed down like a hundred dangling blades.</p> <p>"Pramaada, lend me your bow!"</p> <p>Her body was quickly discorporating as it was slowly separated from mine, but she saw my target. Her transparent arm still held the bow, though it now flickered between string and steel as it tried to revert to a normal Enfield. She jerked her arm over, and laced our fingers together. It took both of us to draw the bow, and I used my teeth to nock the arrow, almost dropping it as the vise tightened even further, sparking and screeching as my still-metal skin resisted.</p> <p>Her green eyes bored into mine, full of an emotion I didn't understand. "<span style="color: #ff4f00">Let your arrow fly true, Kiran</span>."</p> <p>I exhaled and closed an eye. Snow-capped mountains. <em>Hamal, Singh, Mathi, Chand.</em></p> <p>I loosed the arrow.</p> <p>It was a beam of pure sunlight, illuminating the cave like day as it shrieked upwards, and struck true. <em>Crack.</em></p> <p>The dragon blinked.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>啊</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-10" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-10')">10</a></sup></p> </div> <p>The largest of the stalactites fissured and splintered at the base, the holy lance destroying its connection to the roof, allowing it to detach and plunge downwards, spearing through the dragons' skull and through the floor.</p> <p>The serpent collapsed to the floor, the shock throwing us from his jaws. I painfully landed on some knobbly stone, Pramaada fully dissipating into the <em>kukri</em> next to me, so close to the lashing, shrieking dragon. It wasn't quite dead yet.</p> <p>Rebekah leapt down, her sanctified armor absorbing the blow. "Kiran, we need to leave now. The charges are set and the prisoners are evacuated."</p> <p>I tried to stand, but my entire body cried in pain, a line of searing heat bisecting my body at the waist, bruises and bubbled burns covering the rest of my form. My muscles felt like a collection of burning, twisting screws, I was unable to move of my own volition. "I can't walk, it… hurts."</p> <p>She quirked her lips. "All that lightshow, and its the fall that kills you?" She nevertheless scooped up my body and rifle and made haste towards the scaffolding.</p> <p>"What about the rest of the Japanese?"</p> <p>Her answer was curt. "Matthews took care of them." The American. Armed to the teeth with guns and blades and scurrying things lurking inside of his jacket. I didn't want to think about it.</p> <p>The cave was once more plunged into darkness, with the generators all damaged beyond repair, though some lights tried to stay on. The flickering lights made the dragon all the more horrifying, showing snapshots of its writhing, mutilated form, boiling dragon's blood showering the entire cavern like the incoming monsoons of summer.</p> <p>It was in one of these snapshots that I saw the dragon free itself, accompanied by a protracted crunching and snapping as it split its skull down the middle freeing itself from the stone spear. Its jaws were sliced into four bloody segments, and cracks in its skull let loose the uncolourful light in bright lancing rays, setting both metal and wood and corpse alight.<br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>我们事还没完</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-11" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-11')">11</a></sup></p> </div> <p>"Rebekah!"</p> <p>Rebekah lunged up the crooked scaffolding, her empowered armor making her movements superhuman, her stride double that of a man's. Perhaps it would have saved her, if not for me weighing her down.</p> <p>We just reached the top of the scaffolding, Alstrand, al Fine, and Matthews there to help me up the tunnel. Alstrand's face was that of sadness and resignation. They clutched the runes to their chest like a drowning man to rescue. They knew what would happen.</p> <p>The dragon lunged at the scaffolding, snapping his quad-jaws at the bamboo and wood, tearing them to splinters in a blind fury, its jabbering slurred by its mangled mandibles.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="color: red"><em><strong>别就这样离我而去</strong></em></span></span><sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-12" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-12')">12</a></sup></p> </div> <p>Rebekah's foot slipped as the wood gave way beneath her, inches from safe footing. She scrabbled at the edge, but the glacial melt betrayed her, the stone too slick to hold. A stray ray of light lanced through her, melting skin like wax and shattering her sacred armor.</p> <p>She looked at me from behind sloughing sheets of flesh. "Go."</p> <p>And she dropped thirty feet onto the rocky scree below</p> <p>I lunged for the ledge, but Matthews grabbed my wrist and fixed his sights on me. “The cave is about to come down around our ears, and you can't kill that damned thing. Rebekah—” He licked his lips and swallowed. “We can do nothing. Leave her to rot.”</p> <p>I felt bile rise when he said that. I looked him in the eyes that were filled with so much intent, and saw how dry they were. Twin dry wells with brown mud at their bottoms, sunken deep into a once-handsome face. So dry that a fly grazing them would be instantly sucked of all moisture. Pits filled with darkness instead of water, shaded by a furrowed, heavy brow. Eyes that had seen too much evil, and nothing good. <span style="color: #ff4f00">A warrior’s eyes</span>, Pramaada whispered to me.</p> <p><span style="color: blue">Warriors are supposed to be heroes.</span></p> <p><span style="color: #ff4f00">At one time. But that time is no more. He is right. You saved who you could.</span></p> <p>The bile threatened to touch my teeth, but I swallowed it back. I nodded, acceding to Pramaada’s and Matthew’s wisdom, as wretched as they were. I grabbed his arm, and he flung me over the shoulder, fleeing up the tunnel together away from what was once Rebekah in the dragon's den.</p> <p>As we raced out of the tunnel, Santo wasted no time, pushing the plunger, and igniting the dynamite he wired in the middle of the throat. The dragon's roar was overpowered by the collapsing of a million tons of rubble, and the shotgun blast of dust that billowed out of the tunnel. What was for a short time the dragon's lair, had now become its tomb, alone but for itself and its cosmic parasite.</p> <p>Santo looked around, his brow furrowed. "Where is Rebekah?"</p> <p>No one answered. Alstrand fingered their runes.</p> <p>Santo opened and closed his mouth, his lips compressed into a thin white line. He stood and faced the wall, his shoulders shaking slightly. He stood there for a long while, silent.</p> <p>Matthews dumped me on the ground and stalked away, preparing to deal with the rest of the camp. Before he exited the antechamber, he turned to look at me and the rescued prisoners.</p> <p>"I hope they were worth the trade."</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="/walkin-slow">Don't Go Walking Slow</a> \|\| \|\| <a href="/talking-to-someone-else">Talking to Someone Else</a> »</strong></p> <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>. Let me sleep among the dirt and stone, insects.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. Please, end my suffering.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-3"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-3')">3</a>. I will force you to put me down.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-4"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-4')">4</a>. Rotten monkeys, kill me faster.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-5"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-5')">5</a>. Weak.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-6"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-6')">6</a>. Little spirit, grant me a quick death.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-7"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-7')">7</a>. Your death will neither be quick nor merciful.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-8"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-8')">8</a>. Yes, you are close. Finish me.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-9"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-9')">9</a>. Be shattered.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-10"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-10')">10</a>. Ah.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-11"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-11')">11</a>. We are not done yet.</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-12"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-12')">12</a>. Don't leave me like this.</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="/voice-of-rage-and-ruin">Voice of Rage and Ruin</a>" by Anorrack, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/voice-of-rage-and-ruin">https://scpwiki.com/voice-of-rage-and-ruin</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-7ow">:scp-wiki:theme:3law-7ow</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]] Dead Men Tell Tales (5566 words) Author: [[user Anorrack]] [[[http://www.scpwiki.com/anorrack-s-author-page\|Author Page]]] Articles you may enjoy:* [[[out-of-options \|Out of Options]]]: The heist was supposed to go according to script. Oh, how it all comes tumbling down... [[[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/point-of-delirium Point of Delirium]: A member of a criminal organization has been captured by the Foundation. Will he give up his secrets, or will he hold fast until he crumples into insanity? [[[dead-men-tell-tales\| Dead Men Tell Tales]]]: Florida's governor is kidnapped, and the UIU is on the case. How many corpses have the kidnappers left behind? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[=]] Hainan Island, South China Sea, March 1943 [[/=]] The last fingers of pink sunlight were dragged under the horizon behind us, the moon crowning the mountain range ahead. The snow-capped peaks were of little comfort to me — the nostalgia of home tinged with a foreboding malaise that crept down from the mountain top — as my //kukri// shivered on my belt. Something abominable was being undertaken up the trail ahead. I wasn't comforted by my new sixth sense though, as a quick glance at Alstrand's perpetually trembling hands told me enough of where that future led. Our ragged column of six followed the game trail up the mountain, the twin crooked wagon ruts and oxen footprints guiding our way up the steep slope. We marched on in silence weighed down by the explosives Santo had stolen from the camp nearby, the only sounds coming from the clacking rocks that rolled beneath our feet and the lonely howl of the wind. Some time during the long march, the silence was broken as a faint voice came to us on the wind from further down, speaking a foreign tongue. Without missing a beat, we scrambled into the low-lying brambles on the side of the trail, the night covering us in a cloak of shadow. A group of ten prisoners from the work camp below, groaning under the weight of burlap sacks. They slowly followed our footsteps up the trail, ushered by guards wielding batons and rifle butts as encouragement. The Japanese soldiers were frantic, shouting in pidgin in an attempt to pick up the pace. It wasn't normal, the daily caravan already came and went hours before. This was unscheduled. Rebekah slowly, silently unwrapped the oiled cloth from her blade as they passed, just in case. They all continued up and out of view around a switchback, except for a single straggler and accompanying guard several meters behind. The prisoner was older, hunchbacked and liver-spotted, almost defying belief with how far he had climbed. A caught breath, a snapped branch, a rolling rock, a scent in the air. I don't know exactly what alerted the guard, but something did. His gait hitched slightly, and the whites of his eyes gleamed in the dark as he stopped abusing the old man and tried to discreetly draw his pistol. It didn't clear leather before Rebekah closed the distance from the brambles, covering the space in two long strides and swung her blade with a force that could stun a bear, beheading the soldier in one mighty blow. She quickly reversed her grip on the sword and grabbed the body before it could fall to the ground, gently easing it down to the sitting position against the rock face, and placed its head in its still-warm lap. The old man didn't have time to make a move before Matthews was on him, muffling his mouth with a large, soil-crusted hand. al Fine and I rushed to take the warped carrying pole off his knobbly shoulders. We all paused then, waiting to hear the sounds of gunfire and alerted soldiers, but were only greeted by the now-distant sounds of the caravan. The Chinese man moaned, his body sandbagging and bucking in an effort to escape Matthew’s grip. The old man stared at us, bandits in the night, with a mixture of fear and the universal disdain that only the elderly can exude. DC al Fine spoke. "Corporal Pal, check those sacks." I gingerly opened them, expecting to see blasting charges or bombs, only to be met with a collection of oddly shaped rocks of all different sizes, jumbled haphazardly within the bag. I withdrew a large, misshapen one, looking for all the world like a bone embedded in stone. Alstrand giggled as they played with their runes, hanging from a hemp cord on their neck. "The bones of giants that sleep under mountains. They'll be angry when they wake from this thievery." Matthews peeled his fingers from the old man's mouth, spun him around and patted the dust off his shoulders before looking him in the eye. "Fossils. Is that what the work camp is digging up down there, fossils?" al Fine again. "The work day was over when we were there, we didn't have time to check." The elder looked down at the rucksacks, his toothless mouth twisted into a sneer. He spat out a phrase, and lapsed back into curmudgeonly silence. “What did he say?” Santo frowned. He was the group translator as well as blaster; he claimed he learned Asiatic tongues to unlock the true origin and powers of gunpowder. I half-thought he was joking when he first told me that. “He said something about a ‘//loong//,’ //signora//. Though why the Japanese —" My hairs prickled, and Pramaada buzzed, the smell of ozone rankling my nose. It was close to time. "It's too late, we must go, now." Matthews side-eyed me, but didn't object as we released the man and ascended up the mountain with renewed vigor. I tried not to look back as the villager ran opposite our heading at twice our speed, old feet making quick work far away from our final destination. ------ As we crested the final ridge under a pale sickle moon, our target revealed itself to be an old Buddhist temple carved into the very rock of the mountain top. At least, that's what it was before the Japanese arrived. The trail led to a small mountain bowl, which formed a small glacial lake in its nadir. It looked like there used to be a small dock protruding out into the lake, maybe to retrieve fresh water or to fish for the trout brought to these climes by migrating ducks. But its planks had been long torn up for the fences of barbed wire and sharpened stakes that lined the perimeter, centering on the carved arches and pillars of the temple, whose architecture was weathered by age and wind. An old copper bell tolled as the column of miners and soldiers passed through the gate and filed into the temple, the rusty chainlink rattling behind them as it closed. We skirted the edge of the rock bowl, until we came to the chainlink fence. I drew my //kukri//, and Pramaada lazily uncoiled a portion of her being into me, mottling my arm scarlet and heating the knife a glowing white, allowing the blade to pass through the metal like butter, cutting a hole for us to enter. I kissed the throbbing ruby in the pommel as thanks, but I knew it wouldn't satisfy her. Only the blood spilled tonight would. The guards weren't patrolling, instead gathering in their camp pitched outside the temple listening to news over their radio, cheering and jeering in equal measure at every proclamation made by the crackling broadcaster. Most of them were already drunk in celebration or commiseration of some distant victory or loss. Through the door, through the temple, following tracked dirt that seemed to belong to hundreds of feet relatively recently, to a secret egress carved in rock and left open for movement of materiel deeper into the heart of the mountain. "Where are all the guards? Those schmucks out front can't be the only ones." Matthews hissed. Alstrand gently rapped their knuckles on a wooden bookshelf, empty and splintered on the ground. "Judging by the noise, I'd say most of them are further down." Santo jutted his chin down the rough-hewn corridor, from which voices and the sounds of industry emanated. Rebekah hoisted her blade and rolled her massive shoulders, the sigils stitched on her heavy leather cuirass pulsing in time with her heartbeat. "Blessed be the Lord my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." "Blessed be the incautious, and pray that I do not box their ears." Santo shot back. Rebekah peered down at him from two extra heads of height. "Even Paul was forgiven for blaspheming out of ignorance." "You can't say that to me, I'm Catholic, probably more than you!" "Methinks over-exposure to nitroglycerin has eroded your faith." I didn't understand the feud between the [[[whats-going-down\|Gormogons]]] and the Templars, and probably never would. Santo claimed it was because both of their holy orders traced back to Ancient Egypt, and the Gormogons' sun worship was supplanted by the Masonic pharaoh worship, but I believe that was another one of his jokes. Rebekah said Templars weren't even Masonic, whatever that meant. Their whispered bickering faded as they descended, quickly followed by Alstrand and Matthews, until only al Fine and I stood at the entrance. al Fine looked at me, her eyes... I could never remember the colour of her eyes. The knowledge slid out of my mind as if it was greased rubber. "Are you coming?" Her accent, as well. I could never place it, first French, then maybe British, the exactitude always eluding me. She had never told me her name, either. I don't think anyone in the group knew it. When asked in Cochinchina on Christmas Day, she merely smiled and said it was classified. A question mark. She scared me. My rifle was slung on my back, and I held a pistol and my //kukri// in each hand, white-knuckling each grip, as I looked into the dark maw of the tunnel. Always underground. It always had to be underground. Whether Burma or China, the monsters always had to be underground, in tight spaces of dirt and rock where you can neither take a full breath or rest under a familiar sky. //Hamal, Singh, Mathi, Chand.// Pramaada chanted those names and wore those faces, swirling within my mind around the mountains of my home. I took a breath, then another. I nodded, and plunged into the tunnel, DC al Fine right behind. Blocking my only escape. ------ The tunnel was slick and smooth, worn down by the weary trod of a thousand pilgrims. Some parts looked natural, while others showed signs of hammer and chisel where the tunnel had been widened to accommodate foot traffic. A slight trickle of snowmelt escorted us, doing its small part in the expansion of the tunnel. The stone throat eventually opened into a massive cave, a granite gullet that stretched into the darkness, at least twenty meters wide and tall. The tunnel was positioned at the midpoint of the cave's height, with stalactites and wooden scaffolding ramping down to the cave floor below. We hid among the slimy rock outcroppings to observe the operation on the ground floor. I handed my binoculars to Santo and unslung my rifle, peering through the scope to get a better look. At one point, this cave had been a sacred place, a rock formation in the shape of a bodhisattva dominating the chamber, decorated in wax-sealed papers carrying prayers of the faithful. But not anymore. There were perhaps a couple dozen soldiers below us organized in rigid formation, with a stiff-jointed general at its head, his chest half-covered in medals. He was overseeing the scientists and engineers as they adjusted whining generators and aligning support beams, all for the support and lighting of a large paper cylinder, taking up much of the room in the spacious cavern. No, not paper. Goldbeater's skin, made from layers of processed ox intestine, if the discarded crates in the corner were anything to go by. It was decorated as well, with chained painters finishing the final touches of dazzling emerald scales, a dandelion-yellow mane, a large mythic serpent, perhaps ten meters in length. If it were attached to some sturdy rope, I would've said it was the largest kite I had ever seen. The bones from the rucksacks were unloaded and sorted. Brightly robed Buddhist monks daubed scripture onto the bones with brushes coated in a substance sourced from two large bubbling vats, the faint odor identifying it as molten tar. Still more prisoners carried the prepared bones up the scaffolding and placing them inside the painted envelope, hidden from sight. Judging by the rustling of the material from within, the Japanese were constructing a skeleton from the inside. Like a stone ship in a organic bottle. Two Chinese men emerged from the gloom holding a large pitted stone. It pulsed with a green, sickly light, and the men winced with pain as purple lesions grew and spread across their naked arms and torsos. My stomach clenched at the sight of the stone for reasons didn't understand, and averted my gaze. The workers carried the rock up the scaffolding and carefully loaded it into the head of the strange construct. A rolling peal of thunder deafened us, even so far underground, as the painted beast began to twitch. I swiveled the scope to the painted teeth, the flowing mane. Stubby stone legs emerging from folds in the fabric. Curling horns. The lizard was not to be found in my village's faith, I struggled to find a word to — "A dragon," Matthews breathed. "They made a damned dragon?" al Fine nodded to herself. “Santo, go rig the explosives to the entrance. Make sure it can collapse the tunnel and then some. And for the love of God don't blow it with us inside.” Santo passed the binoculars to Rebekah, issued a crouched salute and scurried as fast as he could up the slope, dragging the bags of dynamite behind him. He showed a worrying lack of concern as the bags caught glancing blows from the rough-hewn floor. I grabbed al Fine by the elbow. "What about the civilians down there?" Matthews hissed. "Leave them be. If we collapse the entrance there's no way the Japanese and their pet Frankenstein can get out, less of a mess to deal with." I set my jaw, and shook al Fine's arm. "The civilians." She stared down at the work below, narrowing her eyes. "We won't blow the entrance until the civilians are evacuated, and bury the rest of this science project under the mountain." The shaking of the dragon effigy became more pronounced. The goldbeater’s skin seemed to stretch and warp as the bones underneath moved and rolled of their own volition, trying to escape their mummified hell. Faint screams were quickly silenced as the holes and gaps in the material were sealed with ghostly muscle and sinew, trapping the workers still inside. A viscous, glowing substance oozed from underneath the wrappings, congealing around the protruding fossil limbs and solidifying into massive spectral claws. The painted eyes opened, and the dragon roared, born anew. I unsheathed the //kukri// and the sacred words were about to leap from the tip of my tongue, before Alstrand grabbed and pulled me back down again, their lapis eye glittering blue in the faint light. "No use. Wait. Don't do work that doesn't need to be done." The man in the dress military uniform stiffly approached the writhing monstrosity. The scaffolding that had been supporting it was now speared through its new flesh, pinning it in place like a butterfly in a bug collection. A large metal collar flashed and blinked on top its flowing paint mane, connected by cable to a generator. The commander clicked his heels as he stood eye-to-eye with the creature in front of a control panel, and spoke in slow, painfully pronounced Chinese. Before he could finish, the reanimated dragon interrupted with its own raging cry, its crystal teeth and stone maw somehow making human speech. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//让我与泥土、石头、昆虫一同长眠//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Let me sleep among the dirt and stone, insects.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] The commander was undeterred, pressing forward and repeating himself, more insistent and irritated. The dragon screamed again, its dislocated bones roiling beneath its scaly hide and dislodged stalactites rattling off the scaffolding. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//请终结我的痛苦//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Please, end my suffering.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] The man clicked his tongue in disapproval and reached down for a lever on the control panel. The collar stopped blinking and administered a shock, which made the serpent writhe in pain and bellow that much more. It was an unearthly cry that made the ears cringe and curl, and the very muscles tense and ready to run. In its earth-shaking movements, the scaffolding groaned and bent, bringing the dragon closer to the ground, until its claws touched stone. The dragon suddenly halted its cries and blinked. It snuffled, furrowing its fabric snout, and rattled its claws on the floor one by one, leaving greasy trails of ectoplasm where they scraped against the ground, the broken scaffolding moaning as its muscles twitched. The commander threw the switch again and barked an order, but the dragon didn't react beyond a single shudder, sparks playing off its long beard and impaled metal poles, the excess energy draining into the cave floor. The Japanese soldiers shifted in place, nervous. The commander looked to the scientists, who were as pale as sheets. The air felt heavy with dread, as if the whole cave held its breath, waiting for the massive serpent's next move. I fingered the trigger of my jungle carbine. Cold mist played in the titan's jaws as it breathed, intestine-lungs pumping ragged air like giant bellows. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//我会强迫你们把我消灭//##[[/size]][[footnote]]I will force you to put me down.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] And all hell broke loose. ------- The dragon moved like a eel in the water, defying gravity and twisting in the air faster than any bird-of-prey as it carved through the rank and file. The gunfire that filled the cave punched the ears in staccato, and I could do little but add to the cacophony. However, I wasn't aiming at their target. Line up. //Bang.// Scientist, shoulder blown out by .303 round. Line up. //Bang.// Guard, jaw dissipated into mist as he was dropping his well-used baton. Line up. //Bang.// Commander, his heart turned into a scarlet blossom, head cracked to pieces on the stone. The dragon, too, was making light work of the Japanese infantry, their guns as effective as if firing in the face of Allah. Five soldiers disappeared into the serpent's gullet before it twisted away towards other prey, its flank peppered with bullet holes as the soldiers ventilated its body. The Buddhist monks, hands stained with petroleum and blood, attacked the serpent head on with fist and faith and steel, their hands crackling with the power of their very souls. Acting in sync, two moved as one, grabbing the jaws of the dragon as it attempted to consume them, and //twisting//, sending the creature sailing into the stone Buddha, cracking the sacred rock in half. The dragon let out a piercing scream, its spine bent at an unnatural angle, the prayers of the penitent scorching its belly and contorted pylons tearing holy putrid intestines. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//烂猴子，快杀了我//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Rotten monkeys, kill me faster.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] The ragged Japanese infantry marched towards the incapacitated dragon, leaving their dead and dying behind, pouring modern lead into the ancient beast, its cloth-and-scale hide sealing wounds as fast as they were created. Rebekah hauled me up. "Now, while they're distracted. Matthews, cover us." With that she pushed me down the scaffolding, clambering down the bamboo close behind. I unsheathed my //kukri//. ##blue\|//Pramaada. Aid me.//## My skin sizzled with a pleasant pain as Pramaada caressed my chest with her four arms, her raven hair smelling of smoke as she leaned on my shoulder, murmuring into my neck. ##FF4F00\|//I thought you would never ask.// ## //We raise our hands high, and split the kukri in twain, twin golden// talwars //taking their place in two of our hands. The Enfield warps and shifts into a glittering bow and arrow, with shafts of iron and fletching of lead. As one body we leap past the rest of the scaffolding and plummet to the ground, lightly skipping to a stop in front of the prisoners, huddled in a corner.// //They shiver, beleaguered, frightened, shocked to their core by the dragon and now us standing before them, wielding flame and blade. We try to smile, to calm their nerves, but our curved sabre tusks seem to scare them all the more.// ##FF4F00\|Don't attempt to placate them, Kiran.## //Pramaada's voice buzzes in our head.// ##FF4F00\|Mortals tremble at the feet of gods.## ##blue\|I am not a god, and neither are you.## ##FF4F00\|No, but together we could split the sun and step on the moon. ## //We shake our head, cleansing ourselves of thoughts to focus at the task at hand. With the two arms unoccupied by weapons, we hoist the prisoners to their feet, and shove them towards Rebekah, who escorts them up the scaffolding. We make to follow after, but are interrupted by a boulder flying at the speed of thought, crushing us again the granite wall.// //We split the rock with our shimmering blades, stone melting at the touch, to see the dragon slaughtering the monks to a man. Every effort they make to slay the beast is rebuffed, and every attempt they make to safeguard their own lives is futile, from tooth or claw or flying boulder. One monk is crushed by the head of the Buddha, another's torso dangling from the dragon's teeth. One more burned to a smoking crisp by lightning summoned from places unknown. The last is a barrel-chested mountain of a man whose robes are fit to burst, his stance an immovable pillar and his concentration like a still pond. In a flash his body is eviscerated by jagged claws, his distilled energies exploding outwards to shower his forces with gore.// [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//虚弱//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Weak.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] "Kiran, distract the damned thing while we evacuate!" //Rebekah's voice bellows from the scaffolding, but is almost lost among the screams of the dying.// "##FF4F00\|G####blue\|l####FF4F00\|a####blue\|d####FF4F00\|l####blue\|y##." //With three hands blazing with divine fire we seize chunks of the cleaved boulder and spin, setting the stones ablaze with Hiḍimbī's fury and throwing them, the boulders tearing through the dragon's serpentine torso. It screeches as the massive wounds cauterized by fire leak holy blood. Its eyes lock on ours, eyes as blue as a mountain lake and as piercing as glacial ice. It pulls itself off the shattered Buddha, its spine snapping into place and jaw re-aligning. It spits and speaks, its language the divine tongue of the Gods, its voice full of pain and want.// [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//小生灵，速速赐我一死吧//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Little spirit, grant me a quick death.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] //Our mouth curls, and our retort is spoken as one.// [[size 150%]]##blue\|//तुम्हारी मृत्यु न तो शीघ्र होगी और न ही दयालु//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Your death will neither be quick nor merciful.[[/footnote]] //The serpent corkscrews toward us, roaring a challenge that shakes the mountain to its roots. We nock an arrow and let it fly, another appearing in our grasp. The arrow shatters its glacial eye, and yet still it come, the second arrow doing much the same, its horns crackling white lightning and zapping the arrow from the air. The dragon is almost beautiful, but something about it seems eerie. A hitch in its stride, a twitch of its head. Its one remaining eye is wide and glowing, not with anger, but with fear.// //The dragon looms above us and dives— a screeching banshee from hell— its jaws snapping at our feet as we dance around the beast, our curved blades flashing as we carve scarlet furrows in its bejeweled flank. It is large, yes, but unwieldy, its body unsuited to the cramped confines of the skyless cave.// //Its glittering guts and viscera spill through the gaping maw we created, but before touching ground, pause. The entrails reverse their course, pouring back into the slit and sealing the wound behind them. The dragon trumpets and curls towards us, its flashing claws sparking ectoplasm as they are parried by our blades.// ##blue\|How do you kill the divine?## ##FF4F00\|With a large sword, and the strength to cut with it.## //We plant our feet on the ground, the stone softening from the heat of godly fury. We roll our wrists, our// talwars' //tips tracing lines of light in the air. As they accelerate, the sabers begin to blur, morphing into solid disks of metal, and we// pivot, //the disks leaping from our hands and flying through the air, carving through the dragon's neck and embedding in the opposite wall.// //Our muscles flex and we leap over the serpent's flailing body. We alight on the cave wall, gripping the stone with hands and feet like a fly on glass as we pluck our burning swords from their rocky scabbards. The dragon's skin roils and froths as it expands, reconnecting the severed parts with tendrils of sinew before its head has a chance to fall. The skin moves like a living thing, but through its motions I can see the rock of its fossilized skull, and a putrid light that lances through its cracks.// ##FF4F00\|Kiran.## ##blue\|I see it.## //Thin traces of ethereal web cling to the limbs of the beast, as it blindly swipes its claws. The string trace a path up the dragon's body and enter the cracks in its skull, anchored to something inside. The webs tighten and pulse with a sickly light, and the limbs follow. The webs are thin, so thin to be imperceptible to humans. But in this moment, I am not a man.// ##blue\|The stone in its skull, I think it is controlling the dragon.## ##FF4F00\|Then let us cut.## //The serpent shakes its head and snorts, its breath that of sea and storms, crackling with the scent of lightning and death. It is ecstatic.// [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//对，你很近，了结我//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Yes, you are close. Finish me.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] //We push off from the wall and leap onto the dragon's spine, sinking our// talwars //in its flesh to secure our footing, connected to our hands by cables of flame. The dragon rears into the air, undulating and bucking from the burning acupuncture as we climb up its back, sinking blade after blade into its meat as we ascend. The dragon slams into the floor, walls, and ceiling, fighting both us and its own unwanted jockey to just let itself die.// //Its curled horns act as handholds as we affix ourselves to its skull and prepare to cut. A// talwar //morphs into a// ram-dao, //a wretched chunk of iron used for executions. First flaying skin, then hacking muscle, carving through its stone skull to get inside. As we pry open bone, we are blasted by putrefying rays from the otherworldy rock, our divine flesh bubbling and oozing from the unholy light. The rock had spun a spectral web to nest within, microscopic twitches preceding the dragon's thrashing. The bones may have belonged to the dragon once, but they were not controlled by it anymore, the pitted meteorite both giving the dragon life and puppeting its constructed corpse.// //We raise a// talwar //high, the metal warping into a golden// gada, //the heavy head lurid with etchings of battles past, engraved skulls splintered and sundered.// [[size 150%]]##blue\|//चकनाचूर हो जाओ//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Be shattered.[[/footnote]] //The dragon's rotted body is willing, but the spirit is weak, the pulsating parasite from an eternal heaven not yet ready to die. Its roar is tinged with sadness as a string tightens and it throws its head a final time, the weight of the// gada //catching us off balance and pitching us from the skull and into its maw.// //The bite of the crystal teeth is a deep pain, that past what words can describe and the mind can comprehend. The teeth bite deeper than meat and between selves, separating Pramaada// and I particle by particle, the //kukri// falling from my grasp to the ground below. The vise of the hateful stone jaws tightened around my chest, with only the heavenly essence flowing through my veins keeping me in one piece, though that wouldn't last for long. Pinned in place, I had no choice but to look up at the gloomy ceiling, and saw massive stalactites, pointed down like a hundred dangling blades. "Pramaada, lend me your bow!" Her body was quickly discorporating as it was slowly separated from mine, but she saw my target. Her transparent arm still held the bow, though it now flickered between string and steel as it tried to revert to a normal Enfield. She jerked her arm over, and laced our fingers together. It took both of us to draw the bow, and I used my teeth to nock the arrow, almost dropping it as the vise tightened even further, sparking and screeching as my still-metal skin resisted. Her green eyes bored into mine, full of an emotion I didn't understand. "##FF4F00\|Let your arrow fly true, Kiran##." I exhaled and closed an eye. Snow-capped mountains. //Hamal, Singh, Mathi, Chand.// I loosed the arrow. It was a beam of pure sunlight, illuminating the cave like day as it shrieked upwards, and struck true. //Crack.// The dragon blinked. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//啊//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Ah.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] The largest of the stalactites fissured and splintered at the base, the holy lance destroying its connection to the roof, allowing it to detach and plunge downwards, spearing through the dragons' skull and through the floor. The serpent collapsed to the floor, the shock throwing us from his jaws. I painfully landed on some knobbly stone, Pramaada fully dissipating into the //kukri// next to me, so close to the lashing, shrieking dragon. It wasn't quite dead yet. Rebekah leapt down, her sanctified armor absorbing the blow. "Kiran, we need to leave now. The charges are set and the prisoners are evacuated." I tried to stand, but my entire body cried in pain, a line of searing heat bisecting my body at the waist, bruises and bubbled burns covering the rest of my form. My muscles felt like a collection of burning, twisting screws, I was unable to move of my own volition. "I can't walk, it... hurts." She quirked her lips. "All that lightshow, and its the fall that kills you?" She nevertheless scooped up my body and rifle and made haste towards the scaffolding. "What about the rest of the Japanese?" Her answer was curt. "Matthews took care of them." The American. Armed to the teeth with guns and blades and scurrying things lurking inside of his jacket. I didn't want to think about it. The cave was once more plunged into darkness, with the generators all damaged beyond repair, though some lights tried to stay on. The flickering lights made the dragon all the more horrifying, showing snapshots of its writhing, mutilated form, boiling dragon's blood showering the entire cavern like the incoming monsoons of summer. It was in one of these snapshots that I saw the dragon free itself, accompanied by a protracted crunching and snapping as it split its skull down the middle freeing itself from the stone spear. Its jaws were sliced into four bloody segments, and cracks in its skull let loose the uncolourful light in bright lancing rays, setting both metal and wood and corpse alight. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//我们事还没完//##[[/size]][[footnote]]We are not done yet.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] "Rebekah!" Rebekah lunged up the crooked scaffolding, her empowered armor making her movements superhuman, her stride double that of a man's. Perhaps it would have saved her, if not for me weighing her down. We just reached the top of the scaffolding, Alstrand, al Fine, and Matthews there to help me up the tunnel. Alstrand's face was that of sadness and resignation. They clutched the runes to their chest like a drowning man to rescue. They knew what would happen. The dragon lunged at the scaffolding, snapping his quad-jaws at the bamboo and wood, tearing them to splinters in a blind fury, its jabbering slurred by its mangled mandibles. [[>]] [[size 150%]]##red\|//别就这样离我而去//##[[/size]][[footnote]]Don't leave me like this.[[/footnote]] [[/>]] Rebekah's foot slipped as the wood gave way beneath her, inches from safe footing. She scrabbled at the edge, but the glacial melt betrayed her, the stone too slick to hold. A stray ray of light lanced through her, melting skin like wax and shattering her sacred armor. She looked at me from behind sloughing sheets of flesh. "Go." And she dropped thirty feet onto the rocky scree below I lunged for the ledge, but Matthews grabbed my wrist and fixed his sights on me. “The cave is about to come down around our ears, and you can't kill that damned thing. Rebekah—” He licked his lips and swallowed. “We can do nothing. Leave her to rot.” I felt bile rise when he said that. I looked him in the eyes that were filled with so much intent, and saw how dry they were. Twin dry wells with brown mud at their bottoms, sunken deep into a once-handsome face. So dry that a fly grazing them would be instantly sucked of all moisture. Pits filled with darkness instead of water, shaded by a furrowed, heavy brow. Eyes that had seen too much evil, and nothing good. ##FF4F00\|A warrior’s eyes##, Pramaada whispered to me. ##blue\|Warriors are supposed to be heroes.## ##FF4F00\|At one time. But that time is no more. He is right. You saved who you could.## The bile threatened to touch my teeth, but I swallowed it back. I nodded, acceding to Pramaada’s and Matthew’s wisdom, as wretched as they were. I grabbed his arm, and he flung me over the shoulder, fleeing up the tunnel together away from what was once Rebekah in the dragon's den. As we raced out of the tunnel, Santo wasted no time, pushing the plunger, and igniting the dynamite he wired in the middle of the throat. The dragon's roar was overpowered by the collapsing of a million tons of rubble, and the shotgun blast of dust that billowed out of the tunnel. What was for a short time the dragon's lair, had now become its tomb, alone but for itself and its cosmic parasite. Santo looked around, his brow furrowed. "Where is Rebekah?" No one answered. Alstrand fingered their runes. Santo opened and closed his mouth, his lips compressed into a thin white line. He stood and faced the wall, his shoulders shaking slightly. He stood there for a long while, silent. Matthews dumped me on the ground and stalked away, preparing to deal with the rest of the camp. Before he exited the antechamber, he turned to look at me and the rescued prisoners. "I hope they were worth the trade." = << [[[walkin-slow\| Don't Go Walking Slow]]] \|\| \|\| [[[talking-to-someone-else \| Talking to Someone Else]]] >> [[footnoteblock]] [[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>]]	2023-08-28T21:53:00	[ "7th-occult-war", "_licensebox", "action", "adventure", "body-horror", "dc-al-fine", "fantasy", "first-person", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "horror", "ijamea", "military-fiction", "mythological", "period-piece", "remixcon2023", "tale", "third-law" ]	Voice of Rage and Ruin - SCP Foundation	19	[ "out-of-options", "scp-7890", "point-of-delirium", "dead-men-tell-tales", "whats-going-down", "walkin-slow", "talking-to-someone-else", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "third-law-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "revamped-underread-and-underrated", "remixcon2023", "ijamea-hub" ]	[]	1449604994	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/voice-of-rage-and-ruin
walkure	<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"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>Co-written by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/long-arm-larry" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5263454); return false;"><img alt="Long Arm Larry" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5263454&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043642" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5263454)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/long-arm-larry" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5263454); return false;">Long Arm Larry</a></span> and <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=1735043642" 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></p> <p><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-longest-arm">Long Arm Larry's Authorpage</a></strong></p> <p><strong><a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage">Ralliston's Authorpage</a></strong></p> </div> <p><strong>⚠️ Content Warning:</strong> The following content depicts <strong>war atrocities</strong>.</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><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="blockquote"> <p><em>Walküre</em> — (lit) Valkyrie; female warrior in Norse mythology.</p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Sarah Walschausen, U.S. Army (2003 - 2011), Peoria, Illinois</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Sometimes, she thought she would never really get used to civilian life. </a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>She didn't cry. Not when she got shot in the leg on patrol, not when the discharge papers came, not when we were cuddling in her bunk, under the sheets, deathly afraid someone would come along and know without Asking the answer to a question we couldn't Tell.</p> <p>She was my first girlfriend. I think I was hers, too. It was unhealthy, but not the way you'd think — never mind the fact that I was her commanding officer. She had a way of being cold. Wouldn't crack a grin, wouldn't say "I love you," wouldn't even respond to a hug — it was just sex to her, bare and mechanical, no feeling. Except for when she was drunk.</p> <p>She let something slip when she got hammered. There was an animal inside of her, deep down — some human thing, greatly wounded, keening quietly inside her heart. Then she'd cry. Then she'd hug me, and kiss me, and tell me she loved me, and I'd cry too because I did love her, deep down, I loved her and I knew she wasn't just the machine I knew in the daylight.</p> <p>I only remember her crying once, when sober.</p> <p>We were on patrol — it was '04 I think, outskirts of Baghdad. The field report was three sentences, no drama, just a terse snapshot. We were moving up a city street — another dusty alley, boxy buildings, worried eyes from the windows — when we heard gunshots, distant cracks a few hundred feet away. We saw a dull red Volkswagen barrel out from a side street, before we had time to react, before we had time to dive behind cover — just a car, driver invisible behind tinted glass, veering down the road in our direction.</p> <p>She sent twenty rounds downwind into the windshield. It was in the moment, just a snap reaction, no real human thought involved. The car veered to the right and then flipped before unceremoniously crashing into the wall of a nearby home, red streaks now on the stucco.</p> <p>The driver was a father, maybe, a worried man, a little harsh to his wife, sometimes, but always good to his children — who just wanted to get home, probably, who had heard the shots and was scared, who had no idea that Lily Barkley, of Sacramento, CA, was just around the corner with a gun designed in windowless rooms by the Department of Defense to kill men in body armor, some soldier with lethal intent, not a clerk in a dress shirt and tie. Not the two women in the backseat, maybe family, maybe not, who I never saw, except for the blood pooling on the ground.</p> <p>It wasn't that unusual. It happened all the time at checkpoints, with a little more process, usually. Escalation of force: the same incident, the same outcome, just slightly more in line with regulations, the soldiers absolved of blame because they followed procedure and it happened at night, maybe, or on some distant road with no prying eyes to contradict the official story. But it happened in broad daylight, on a city street, and now there were three innocent dead, three bodies in a graveyard, because one soldier was scared.</p> <p>She was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged, but she cried two weeks before any of that, when I read the report the day after, looked at her, and asked her what had really happened, in that moment, in her mind — how she justified it, slept with it at night, convinced herself it was okay.</p> <p>She couldn't answer. She couldn't find the words. I told her that I didn't want to see her anymore — in not so many words — and she started crying, genuinely sobbing, the desperately human animal at the surface with no liquor involved. She tried to hug me, and I shoved her off.</p> <p>I never saw her again, except for a grainy photo I kept in my wallet for a year afterwards and maybe once from the back, on a truck full of soldiers anxious to leave, headed towards the airport.</p> <p>I still love her. Not actively. I just notice it in everyone I date. There's always some element of her, hiding there beneath the surface, waiting for me to recognize it.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Nomusa Emvelo, Senior Aid Worker, Durban, KwaZulu-Natal</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- All she wanted was to help, but the Charitable could only do so much. </a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>We were crossing the desert when we found them. Well. When they found us.</p> <p>It was the middle of the night, then. We were heading for a hermitage in the Nubian desert. A group of monastic Coptic wizards suffering from a tuberculosis outbreak. Poor souls were so sick they couldn't even use their own magic to treat themselves. It was four days' walk from the nearest village, but they were hurting, and they needed our help. Desperate people that would have been hurt by the Foundation or the Initiative if they tried reaching out to anyone else.</p> <p>So we packed our things and went, sleeping by the day and walking by the night. We had more than enough resources, both for ourselves and those we were meant to help. Of course, if we ever needed extraction, all we had to do was call for it. It was a safe journey, no real risk of any danger. It was supposed to be one.</p> <p>When they came from beyond the dunes, it was obvious they were warriors, battle-scarred soldiers. I didn't need Abeni's experience to tell me that; I could see it in the way they moved, even before I noticed the guns they carried on their backs. They were led by the woman, the only one of them that wasn't hurt. She was calm, relaxed almost, as if this was just another blue day for her, just something she'd seen hundreds of times before. She was in her element. It was obvious, from the way she looked at us and her comrades.</p> <p>We tried telling them that we could try and share, but that we didn't have enough resources to help all of them. I offered to call in for support so that we could have what we needed delivered, but all I got in response to that proposal was a barrel of a gun pointed at my head. They were fleeing from someone, Abeni said. A battle not yet lost. A battle that left them wounded, vulnerable. They couldn't risk getting spotted. They needed what we had. They needed what those wizards needed more.</p> <p>I tried to explain it to the woman, but she didn't listen. She already decided it was either them or the wizards, and she wasn't about to let her people die in the middle of the desert. They needed the food and the medicine, or they would bleed out. It was simple as that, in her mind. A black-and-white equation. A necessary evil, perhaps; something she liked to think she had no choice in. Abeni looked at her and tried to tell her it didn't have to be like that, that she too had once been a soldier, that she understood what they felt. She told her the helicopter would be there by sunrise, if we just called for it. She begged for her to listen, almost.</p> <p>The woman shot her in the leg for that. A sign she meant business.</p> <p>We didn't really fight back after that. We weren't warriors, even if some of us had once been. We were volunteers. And we didn't volunteer to die.</p> <p>So we gave them what they wanted, and for a few days carried on beside them; they couldn't risk us wandering out into the desert alone, thinking we could tell whoever left them scarred like that where they were. It was a murderous couple of days, a ceaseless march for hours on end with almost no respite. For those few days, I observed them, almost like a scared animal. I saw them talk and I saw them care for each other. I saw them drink.</p> <p>The first day after they took what wasn't theirs, they drank. All of them, except the few that they put out on guard. The woman was the first to take up the bottle. She drank and she drank until the day turned into night again, and I watched it all happen from just beyond the corner, just beyond her field of vision. I saw her lay there, her body bordering on blacking out, her eyes staring somewhere before her.</p> <p>I've seen many people drink in my life, you know. But none like her. People change, when they pick up the bottle. Most don't want to admit it, but somewhere deep inside, there is an animal we only let out when our blood runs with ethanol and our mind wanders off into nonsense. We are all like that. But not her. Not the woman with the sniper rifle and with the insignia of a raven. When she drank, she just stared, some spark of consciousness still fading within her eyes, as if anticipating something.</p> <p>Whatever it was she waited for, she didn't find it.</p> <p>When they finally reached their destination, they let us go. Said we were free to go and do whatever it was we were doing, before they came. Almost the second they disappeared beyond the horizon we called in for help, saying we lost our resources and needed support. We still believed that if we hurried, we could help the people we were sent to aid.</p> <p>None of them made it, in the end. The monastery was empty when we arrived, the halls of the mages silent. A husk drying out in the harsh desert wind.</p> <p>I wish I could've shown her, the soldier, the empty bunks and deserted nave. The sand coursing over the pews, working its way into the cracks in the sandalwood. I wish I could've made her understand what she had done, or at least see it.</p> <p>We registered the wizards as war dead, killed by a battle they had never fought and never seen.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ █████ "Methuselah" ████████, Insurgent Operator, █████, ███████ </a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- He'd made it seven years in the Insurgency. Most only survived months.</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>They came after dark. I remember it still, four years later. The clanks of their armor and steps of their boots, treading the rocky ground before them.</p> <p>We were in Algeria, then. The Atlas Mountains. It was supposed to be a quick recovery mission; get in and get out with the object, as dictated by the Engine. We didn't expect trouble. All nine of us, only thing we were looking forward to was capturing the asset and getting home before the end of the month. It was some eigenweapon part, I think. Something the Engineer needed from some local thaumists. I don't really remember. But it's not like it matters.</p> <p>It all turned out to be a setup. How they did it, I'm still not sure. But it's irrelevant now. We all realized it the moment we heard the first gunshot, splitting the sky like thunder. There was no warning, no sign they were coming — just a rifle booming to life across an otherwise dead wasteland beneath a sunless sky.</p> <p>They took Simon first. The poor guy didn't even see it coming. Just fell down, his head and spine little more than wet pulp.</p> <p>We fought well, I think. We were all armed with the finest Eurtec could offer, and we paid them handsomely for what they did to us — but it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough. We fought like men and we died like men, still motivated by our human wills and desires. Still somehow bound by the ideology we all joined the Insurgency for, motivated to kill for some higher goal we genuinely believed in.</p> <p>But they weren't like that. Not really. They came in their shining armor and spruced-up guns, all twelve of them; and they were like wolves. A pack that cared only for victory, no matter how much it cost. They fought without hesitation, one shot after another. We managed to take out five, in the end. But the remaining seven — well. They didn't care for their fallen. Just pushed on, hellbent on taking us out. They shot and shot until our tents were little more than leaky blankets, our armor shredded clothing. The worst one of them was the woman and her rifle, I think. She took four of our men, three in one shot. They didn't even have the chance to scream. Almost half of us. Well. Half, me notwithstanding.</p> <p>I'm not proud to say that I ran. I've been a soldier my whole life, but them — they weren't soldiers. They were warriors. To fight wasn't just their job — it was their life. It was who they were. They came and they won, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. It was just a fact of life, some force of nature maybe, an unstoppable one. And we were far from unmovable objects.</p> <p>I couldn't risk actually leaving the camp. Not out of fear, but out of some shredded remain of honor, somewhere deep inside my heart. I might've taken the cap and hidden from them with magic, but I needed to stay. I needed to make sure that once they were away, I could give my fallen the funeral they deserved.</p> <p>But they didn't go away — not at first, at least. The second the job was done, they set up camp, on the ruins of what we called home for a few hours. They lit up a fire and put up their own tents, setting chairs around some food, I think. And then they talked.</p> <p>For hours on end they talked and they sang and they smiled and they laughed, their rifles far away enough to pretend they weren't there but close enough to grab them should need arise. They ate and they exchanged stories under that starless sky, the darkness beyond the fire masking the fact that for all it was worth, they sat inside a graveyard. A graveyard of their own, just as much as it was ours. And I just sat there, silently observing from some faraway tree, my presence all but hidden from everyone but myself.</p> <p>When they were finished, they drank. Couldn't tell you what it was. Something strong, from the looks on their faces. They all drank until they were drunk enough to go to sleep — all of them but the woman. Before, she was the loudest of them; she talked and laughed the most, and you could hear her firm voice even from where I stood. I remember they gave her the bottle, and for a while she took it, sipping from it almost — but only almost. She took it and looked deep into its neck, silent, then murmured something under her nose, and smashed it on the ground beneath her. And they all laughed, again. All except her.</p> <p>When they went to sleep, I wondered if I should come closer and try to get them while they were vulnerable. There was just seven of them, I told myself, and only one on guard to dodge with my invisibility. But… I didn't do anything. It wasn't that I couldn't do it — and I couldn't, even if in the moment I believed otherwise — but seeing all of them around that fire… it made me realize something. I knew how to fight demons. I've killed more than a few in my time. But them? Underneath all those plates and vests, when they slept, they were all still just human. And I'm not a murderer.</p> <p>They departed when the sun came up again. Took all their things and set off god knows where. And I stayed. It took me all day but I buried all of the fallen; both the ones I've failed and those I've failed to kill. I buried them and covered them in the gravel and rock that was all around us, until all that was left from what had once been a battlefield was little more than a bumpy hill.</p> <p>I left the next day, heading for our nearest recovery spot. I didn't look back.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Cesar Aros, Unemployed, Barranquilla, Atlántico (Displaced)</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- During the day, he sold sweets by the roadside.</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>She had come to my bar with a friend of hers. He introduced himself as Leif, before stating his full name as "Jake, from El Paso" with a grin. He wanted me to know he was human, beneath all the metal grafted onto his body. He had a rifle, an ugly, scarred thing marked with twenty-four notches.</p> <p>The day after, they found Parmenio, the butcher's son, dead in a ditch. He helped his father around the shop, sometimes, hauling the carcasses and arranging the cuts. He dreamt of being a journalist. On the rare occasions he'd come in to drink, he would take sparse sips and ramble for hours about the power of words — to enlighten, to uplift, to condemn. He was barely nineteen, and someone had shot him once in the head.</p> <p>Twenty-five notches on the rifle of the man from El Paso that evening, as he walked in with a smile. He was not meant to be there, nor was the woman. Drinking was not permitted, he said to me, with a sly wink. Drinking with a civilian who was not meant to know they existed, even more so.</p> <p>One night he drank more than usual, and left stumbling, with a bottle in his hand. He was dead the next day, his just another a body by the side of the road. There was a twenty-sixth notch on his gun, in a different hand. A cruel joke.</p> <p>She came to my bar one last time. She never drank, normally. She just stood, rifle at the ready, watching Jake warily. Now she sat at the counter, and motioned for a bottle. I passed her one, and she sat silently. She did not drink. She only peered at the dusty label, the glass glinting green and red in tandem with the lights on her face.</p> <p>Discipline, she murmured, looking at me with nothing in her eyes. Discipline was the soldier's duty, what made them warriors, brave and true, not just men with pikes, the same medieval troops that plundered and savaged the lands of all who did not pay them, and even those that did, sometimes. The implants signified this. The technology separated them from the barbarity, the brutality, the evil. What this had been was discipline. The punishment had only been to remove his implants. Without them, he was just a bastard again, a soulless killer — even they could see that. And there was no reason to keep a man like that alive.</p> <p>She recounted it as if it was all a fact of life, and nothing more. The wisp of smoke rising from her rifle's barrel. The blood trickling from his forehead. The stalks of cane, twice her height, rustling in the wind. The grimace on his face, a wordless scream that persisted on his twisted lips and gaunt cheeks even in death, the pain and loss beneath it strong enough for the rigor mortis to etch it on his face forever.</p> <p>As she watched them pick the implants out of his body so as to make him mortal again they reminded her that underneath all that armor she too was no legendary warrior, no Walküre out of myth. Just someone who could shoot well enough to be useful.</p> <p>Not nothing in her eyes. It was the sky that night, lying behind her pupils — black clouds, no stars, no moon. Midnight forever as she looked up and away from his corpse, her grinning CO, the idling Jeep.</p> <p>Just something that had happened. An object passing through space. Another blue day.</p> <p>They found seven more bodies over the next two weeks, other innocents. A peasant, a beggar, a policeman, all one shot, directly through the head. It was rumored to be something criminal, some great underworld conspiracy coming to the fore in a town of a bare few thousand. There were rumors of pitched battles between rival gangs high in the hills with strange weapons, things that made odd noises and produced great flashes of colored light. Anyone who ventured close turned up days later, another bullet, another head.</p> <p>Then it stopped, the hills falling silent, no more bodies, no reminder that anything had even happened at all. After a month the world ceased to wonder what had killed them, those corpses out of town, on the roads and in the cane fields. It just carried on, as it had always had.</p> <p>I see her in my nightmares, sometimes. Her scarred face, her jagged and paranoid movements.</p> <p>Parmenio's funeral was short, sad, quiet. His father cried, the careworn wrinkles on the face of the man who sliced tendons and drained blood drowned with tears. His mother stood stone-faced looking at his coffin, beautiful mahogany wood lined with pristine white cloth. They could not entirely afford it, but here death was an occasion to be celebrated. Pay out in a lump sum to the corpse the debt that you would otherwise slowly have diminished in life with gifts, kind words, small acts of love.</p> <p>After a few minutes, she started to sob, too. The tears welled from his whole extended family, aunts and uncles and distant second cousins united in pain, loss, grief.</p> <p>It was a quiet goodbye. Just broken hearts, trying to heal a scar they knew would never fade, not really.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Frey, Valkyrie, Odin Base, █████</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- There's two bullets in her body, and her breathing's shallow,</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="blockquote"> <p>and she's gasping for air on the stretcher as they lift her up and rush her to the medevac helicopter with its blades beating the dust in great arcs and they tell her to Hold On Frey and Stay With Us Frey but it doesn't work because her name isn't Frey, it's Lily, she's a homeschooled American girl who reads history books in her bunk late at night and thinks of the only relationship she ever had to lull herself to sleep afterwards and can't herself remember just how many people she's killed.</p> <p>She reads by lamplight about Mad Mike Hoare and Jean Schramme in the Congo, the <em>Les Affreux</em> — yes, monsters, neo-colonialist soldiers of fortune, self-described romantics who threw hand grenades at civilians and took photos of the aftermath, and she's just like them, and she's dying just like them. The only form of justice mercenaries ever face: death.</p> <p>Blades beating over the Gulf, the Golden Hour ticking away, those sixty minutes between life and death — but it's pointless, some animal part of her already knows this, that the blood loss and the lead in her lungs is too much. The medics put on a good show. They have a game they like to play, pretending that even though they save the lives of monsters that they aren't monsters themselves, that they can go home when their contracts are done with clean consciences. But there's a reason they always re-up, always return for another season in the copters and in the tents.</p> <p>Odin Base in Texas, the American South, the spiritual locus of the right-neoliberal private military-industrial complex. Brown & Root, Dyncorp, Military Professional Resources Incorporated — companies not much better than Valravn, really, the higher-ups always rationalize in their sales pitches, just in front of the Veil, with friends in slightly higher places.</p> <p>The base itself is just nine grey buildings next to a cane field, a short barbed-wire fence, never any trouble from the cops. No paranoid need for secrecy here. No bodies in the fields because they spotted Valkyries on a training exercise, lounging around on base, out for an officially-prohibited drink. She wonders why that is, but deep down knows the answer already, that the supposedly apolitical mercenaries may have personal agendas that the money just helps reinforce.</p> <p>Heartbeat weak, low blood pressure, her face turning white, come on, come on, let's go, off the helicopter and into the medical building with expensive new equipment and a painting of the god of healing, Eir, on the wall, a little joke from one of the commanders. She's unconscious, someone intubate her — and out come the scalpels, more a formality, just so they can say they tried.</p> <p>Back in Colombia, the wind whistling through the cane fields. Jake isn't her friend, not really, just someone who's willing to bend the rules with her. He's an explicit atheist, which doesn't really click with the more than vaguely fascist neopagan ethos of the high command. The people that actually <em>pray</em> to Odin and Thor and all those masculine warrior-gods are a definite minority, of course. Most just accept the Norse stuff as little more than aesthetics — which it is, really, the higher-ups are just the same white supremacist ghouls you'd see anywhere else, no real difference from the Christian kind — but he explicitly rejects it, an attitude that's likely to get him killed, people whisper.</p> <p>What the hell does he care. He wants a drink.</p> <p>Smoke rising from her rifle's barrel, because this is what it means, to be a soldier: to pull the trigger and feel nothing, to serve your country. She doesn't feel anything when she kills, hasn't ever, not even in the Army. Something wrong inside her from the start.</p> <p>Still American. Still from Sacramento, despite everything, the River City, sunny days in the Central Valley. Childhood days, maybe she's forgotten something, some initial moment of moral failure, some animal homicide like the serial killers she sees in non-fiction books and dramatized miniseries.</p> <p>She's just like them, and she's dying just like them.</p> <p>Massive perforation, think one nicked her stomach, really don't know if she's going to pull through being honest.</p> <p>The years in the Sahara, sun, heat, sand. Once she came across an empty monastery, long abandoned, barren but for a dense coating of dust. A few miles east snow-white bones poked out of the dunes, worn crosses still with them, something Jake found quite funny.</p> <p>They swept over oasis towns, desert villages, taking and doing whatever they wanted — because this is what they do, the mercenaries in the history books, the men with pikes and plate armor. They loot and plunder, murder and kill.</p> <p>In Iraq again, in her bunk, with Lt. Walschausen, crying, the day before that fateful patrol. She misses her, and that's all she can say, she misses her.</p> <p>Pupils dilated. She's not breathing.</p> <p>Eighteen years old, standing at the bus stop late at night, her parents don't want her to enlist but what the hell else is she going to do, she can't work fast food, can't afford a degree.</p> <p>So what the hell did you do, huh? So what was it then, Lily, what the hell was it, huh? Three people dead. Three innocent people and you're just staring at me, staring at me like you always fucking do.</p> <p>Always thought it was funny, how the helicopters flew through U.S. airspace fine, how the UIU truck drove by once and left, how she never stopped serving her country, not really.</p> <p>No pulse. Heart stopped. Attempting to revive.</p> <p>She doesn't drink anymore because it stopped working. Nothing left now not after everything.</p> <p>You're Frey now, said the smiling officer.</p> <p>Midnight forever in the cane field. Blackness, darkness, the stretching sky.</p> <p>Patient expired, mark the time, 3:27 PM.</p> <p>She liked the way her hand felt on her cheek. She liked the way her hair felt and smelled and how she was soft to the touch and how when they held hands when they cuddled she would flex hers and move a finger around maybe to let her know that she was there, that she was loved. She liked her a lot and when they broke up she was sad, in her soul sad, a sort of lethal kind of heartbreak that just followed her around until another recruiter came and found her, this time in a smart suit and tie and a weird medieval-looking eagle pin on his lapel, asking her would she like to find gainful employment again, and she said yes, gladly yes, and when they put her under anesthetic for the first of the implants she was back in Sacramento, on that lonely bus stop night, waiting for the chariot that would take her away from this life, away from this world, everything, up into Valhalla where the valiant warriors rest, carried there by the Valkyries, Odin's chosen few.</p> <p>But she's not rising, they're carrying her down, she's falling, and—</p> </div> </div> </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="/walkure">Walküre</a>" by Long Arm Larry and Ralliston, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/walkure">https://scpwiki.com/walkure</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> <hr/> </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>]] [[=]] Co-written by [[user Long Arm Larry]] and [[user Ralliston]] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-longest-arm Long Arm Larry's Authorpage] [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ralliston-s-authorpage Ralliston's Authorpage] [[/=]] ⚠️ Content Warning: The following content depicts war atrocities. [[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="blockquote"]] //Walküre// -- (lit) Valkyrie; female warrior in Norse mythology. [[/div]] [[/=]] @@ @@ ------ [[collapsible show="+ Sarah Walschausen, U.S. Army (2003 - 2011), Peoria, Illinois" hide="- Sometimes, she thought she would never really get used to civilian life. "]] [[div class="blockquote"]] She didn't cry. Not when she got shot in the leg on patrol, not when the discharge papers came, not when we were cuddling in her bunk, under the sheets, deathly afraid someone would come along and know without Asking the answer to a question we couldn't Tell. She was my first girlfriend. I think I was hers, too. It was unhealthy, but not the way you'd think -- never mind the fact that I was her commanding officer. She had a way of being cold. Wouldn't crack a grin, wouldn't say "I love you," wouldn't even respond to a hug -- it was just sex to her, bare and mechanical, no feeling. Except for when she was drunk. She let something slip when she got hammered. There was an animal inside of her, deep down -- some human thing, greatly wounded, keening quietly inside her heart. Then she'd cry. Then she'd hug me, and kiss me, and tell me she loved me, and I'd cry too because I did love her, deep down, I loved her and I knew she wasn't just the machine I knew in the daylight. I only remember her crying once, when sober. We were on patrol -- it was '04 I think, outskirts of Baghdad. The field report was three sentences, no drama, just a terse snapshot. We were moving up a city street -- another dusty alley, boxy buildings, worried eyes from the windows -- when we heard gunshots, distant cracks a few hundred feet away. We saw a dull red Volkswagen barrel out from a side street, before we had time to react, before we had time to dive behind cover -- just a car, driver invisible behind tinted glass, veering down the road in our direction. She sent twenty rounds downwind into the windshield. It was in the moment, just a snap reaction, no real human thought involved. The car veered to the right and then flipped before unceremoniously crashing into the wall of a nearby home, red streaks now on the stucco. The driver was a father, maybe, a worried man, a little harsh to his wife, sometimes, but always good to his children -- who just wanted to get home, probably, who had heard the shots and was scared, who had no idea that Lily Barkley, of Sacramento, CA, was just around the corner with a gun designed in windowless rooms by the Department of Defense to kill men in body armor, some soldier with lethal intent, not a clerk in a dress shirt and tie. Not the two women in the backseat, maybe family, maybe not, who I never saw, except for the blood pooling on the ground. It wasn't that unusual. It happened all the time at checkpoints, with a little more process, usually. Escalation of force: the same incident, the same outcome, just slightly more in line with regulations, the soldiers absolved of blame because they followed procedure and it happened at night, maybe, or on some distant road with no prying eyes to contradict the official story. But it happened in broad daylight, on a city street, and now there were three innocent dead, three bodies in a graveyard, because one soldier was scared. She was court-martialed and dishonorably discharged, but she cried two weeks before any of that, when I read the report the day after, looked at her, and asked her what had really happened, in that moment, in her mind -- how she justified it, slept with it at night, convinced herself it was okay. She couldn't answer. She couldn't find the words. I told her that I didn't want to see her anymore -- in not so many words -- and she started crying, genuinely sobbing, the desperately human animal at the surface with no liquor involved. She tried to hug me, and I shoved her off. I never saw her again, except for a grainy photo I kept in my wallet for a year afterwards and maybe once from the back, on a truck full of soldiers anxious to leave, headed towards the airport. I still love her. Not actively. I just notice it in everyone I date. There's always some element of her, hiding there beneath the surface, waiting for me to recognize it. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ------ [[collapsible show="+ Nomusa Emvelo, Senior Aid Worker, Durban, KwaZulu-Natal" hide="- All she wanted was to help, but the Charitable could only do so much. "]] [[div class="blockquote"]] We were crossing the desert when we found them. Well. When they found us. It was the middle of the night, then. We were heading for a hermitage in the Nubian desert. A group of monastic Coptic wizards suffering from a tuberculosis outbreak. Poor souls were so sick they couldn't even use their own magic to treat themselves. It was four days' walk from the nearest village, but they were hurting, and they needed our help. Desperate people that would have been hurt by the Foundation or the Initiative if they tried reaching out to anyone else. So we packed our things and went, sleeping by the day and walking by the night. We had more than enough resources, both for ourselves and those we were meant to help. Of course, if we ever needed extraction, all we had to do was call for it. It was a safe journey, no real risk of any danger. It was supposed to be one. When they came from beyond the dunes, it was obvious they were warriors, battle-scarred soldiers. I didn't need Abeni's experience to tell me that; I could see it in the way they moved, even before I noticed the guns they carried on their backs. They were led by the woman, the only one of them that wasn't hurt. She was calm, relaxed almost, as if this was just another blue day for her, just something she'd seen hundreds of times before. She was in her element. It was obvious, from the way she looked at us and her comrades. We tried telling them that we could try and share, but that we didn't have enough resources to help all of them. I offered to call in for support so that we could have what we needed delivered, but all I got in response to that proposal was a barrel of a gun pointed at my head. They were fleeing from someone, Abeni said. A battle not yet lost. A battle that left them wounded, vulnerable. They couldn't risk getting spotted. They needed what we had. They needed what those wizards needed more. I tried to explain it to the woman, but she didn't listen. She already decided it was either them or the wizards, and she wasn't about to let her people die in the middle of the desert. They needed the food and the medicine, or they would bleed out. It was simple as that, in her mind. A black-and-white equation. A necessary evil, perhaps; something she liked to think she had no choice in. Abeni looked at her and tried to tell her it didn't have to be like that, that she too had once been a soldier, that she understood what they felt. She told her the helicopter would be there by sunrise, if we just called for it. She begged for her to listen, almost. The woman shot her in the leg for that. A sign she meant business. We didn't really fight back after that. We weren't warriors, even if some of us had once been. We were volunteers. And we didn't volunteer to die. So we gave them what they wanted, and for a few days carried on beside them; they couldn't risk us wandering out into the desert alone, thinking we could tell whoever left them scarred like that where they were. It was a murderous couple of days, a ceaseless march for hours on end with almost no respite. For those few days, I observed them, almost like a scared animal. I saw them talk and I saw them care for each other. I saw them drink. The first day after they took what wasn't theirs, they drank. All of them, except the few that they put out on guard. The woman was the first to take up the bottle. She drank and she drank until the day turned into night again, and I watched it all happen from just beyond the corner, just beyond her field of vision. I saw her lay there, her body bordering on blacking out, her eyes staring somewhere before her. I've seen many people drink in my life, you know. But none like her. People change, when they pick up the bottle. Most don't want to admit it, but somewhere deep inside, there is an animal we only let out when our blood runs with ethanol and our mind wanders off into nonsense. We are all like that. But not her. Not the woman with the sniper rifle and with the insignia of a raven. When she drank, she just stared, some spark of consciousness still fading within her eyes, as if anticipating something. Whatever it was she waited for, she didn't find it. When they finally reached their destination, they let us go. Said we were free to go and do whatever it was we were doing, before they came. Almost the second they disappeared beyond the horizon we called in for help, saying we lost our resources and needed support. We still believed that if we hurried, we could help the people we were sent to aid. None of them made it, in the end. The monastery was empty when we arrived, the halls of the mages silent. A husk drying out in the harsh desert wind. I wish I could've shown her, the soldier, the empty bunks and deserted nave. The sand coursing over the pews, working its way into the cracks in the sandalwood. I wish I could've made her understand what she had done, or at least see it. We registered the wizards as war dead, killed by a battle they had never fought and never seen. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="+ █████ "Methuselah" ████████, Insurgent Operator, █████, ███████ " hide="- He'd made it seven years in the Insurgency. Most only survived months."]] [[div class="blockquote"]] They came after dark. I remember it still, four years later. The clanks of their armor and steps of their boots, treading the rocky ground before them. We were in Algeria, then. The Atlas Mountains. It was supposed to be a quick recovery mission; get in and get out with the object, as dictated by the Engine. We didn't expect trouble. All nine of us, only thing we were looking forward to was capturing the asset and getting home before the end of the month. It was some eigenweapon part, I think. Something the Engineer needed from some local thaumists. I don't really remember. But it's not like it matters. It all turned out to be a setup. How they did it, I'm still not sure. But it's irrelevant now. We all realized it the moment we heard the first gunshot, splitting the sky like thunder. There was no warning, no sign they were coming -- just a rifle booming to life across an otherwise dead wasteland beneath a sunless sky. They took Simon first. The poor guy didn't even see it coming. Just fell down, his head and spine little more than wet pulp. We fought well, I think. We were all armed with the finest Eurtec could offer, and we paid them handsomely for what they did to us -- but it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough. We fought like men and we died like men, still motivated by our human wills and desires. Still somehow bound by the ideology we all joined the Insurgency for, motivated to kill for some higher goal we genuinely believed in. But they weren't like that. Not really. They came in their shining armor and spruced-up guns, all twelve of them; and they were like wolves. A pack that cared only for victory, no matter how much it cost. They fought without hesitation, one shot after another. We managed to take out five, in the end. But the remaining seven -- well. They didn't care for their fallen. Just pushed on, hellbent on taking us out. They shot and shot until our tents were little more than leaky blankets, our armor shredded clothing. The worst one of them was the woman and her rifle, I think. She took four of our men, three in one shot. They didn't even have the chance to scream. Almost half of us. Well. Half, me notwithstanding. I'm not proud to say that I ran. I've been a soldier my whole life, but them -- they weren't soldiers. They were warriors. To fight wasn't just their job -- it was their life. It was who they were. They came and they won, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. It was just a fact of life, some force of nature maybe, an unstoppable one. And we were far from unmovable objects. I couldn't risk actually leaving the camp. Not out of fear, but out of some shredded remain of honor, somewhere deep inside my heart. I might've taken the cap and hidden from them with magic, but I needed to stay. I needed to make sure that once they were away, I could give my fallen the funeral they deserved. But they didn't go away -- not at first, at least. The second the job was done, they set up camp, on the ruins of what we called home for a few hours. They lit up a fire and put up their own tents, setting chairs around some food, I think. And then they talked. For hours on end they talked and they sang and they smiled and they laughed, their rifles far away enough to pretend they weren't there but close enough to grab them should need arise. They ate and they exchanged stories under that starless sky, the darkness beyond the fire masking the fact that for all it was worth, they sat inside a graveyard. A graveyard of their own, just as much as it was ours. And I just sat there, silently observing from some faraway tree, my presence all but hidden from everyone but myself. When they were finished, they drank. Couldn't tell you what it was. Something strong, from the looks on their faces. They all drank until they were drunk enough to go to sleep -- all of them but the woman. Before, she was the loudest of them; she talked and laughed the most, and you could hear her firm voice even from where I stood. I remember they gave her the bottle, and for a while she took it, sipping from it almost -- but only almost. She took it and looked deep into its neck, silent, then murmured something under her nose, and smashed it on the ground beneath her. And they all laughed, again. All except her. When they went to sleep, I wondered if I should come closer and try to get them while they were vulnerable. There was just seven of them, I told myself, and only one on guard to dodge with my invisibility. But... I didn't do anything. It wasn't that I couldn't do it -- and I couldn't, even if in the moment I believed otherwise -- but seeing all of them around that fire... it made me realize something. I knew how to fight demons. I've killed more than a few in my time. But them? Underneath all those plates and vests, when they slept, they were all still just human. And I'm not a murderer. They departed when the sun came up again. Took all their things and set off god knows where. And I stayed. It took me all day but I buried all of the fallen; both the ones I've failed and those I've failed to kill. I buried them and covered them in the gravel and rock that was all around us, until all that was left from what had once been a battlefield was little more than a bumpy hill. I left the next day, heading for our nearest recovery spot. I didn't look back. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ------ [[collapsible show="+ Cesar Aros, Unemployed, Barranquilla, Atlántico (Displaced)" hide="- During the day, he sold sweets by the roadside."]] [[div class="blockquote"]] She had come to my bar with a friend of hers. He introduced himself as Leif, before stating his full name as "Jake, from El Paso" with a grin. He wanted me to know he was human, beneath all the metal grafted onto his body. He had a rifle, an ugly, scarred thing marked with twenty-four notches. The day after, they found Parmenio, the butcher's son, dead in a ditch. He helped his father around the shop, sometimes, hauling the carcasses and arranging the cuts. He dreamt of being a journalist. On the rare occasions he'd come in to drink, he would take sparse sips and ramble for hours about the power of words -- to enlighten, to uplift, to condemn. He was barely nineteen, and someone had shot him once in the head. Twenty-five notches on the rifle of the man from El Paso that evening, as he walked in with a smile. He was not meant to be there, nor was the woman. Drinking was not permitted, he said to me, with a sly wink. Drinking with a civilian who was not meant to know they existed, even more so. One night he drank more than usual, and left stumbling, with a bottle in his hand. He was dead the next day, his just another a body by the side of the road. There was a twenty-sixth notch on his gun, in a different hand. A cruel joke. She came to my bar one last time. She never drank, normally. She just stood, rifle at the ready, watching Jake warily. Now she sat at the counter, and motioned for a bottle. I passed her one, and she sat silently. She did not drink. She only peered at the dusty label, the glass glinting green and red in tandem with the lights on her face. Discipline, she murmured, looking at me with nothing in her eyes. Discipline was the soldier's duty, what made them warriors, brave and true, not just men with pikes, the same medieval troops that plundered and savaged the lands of all who did not pay them, and even those that did, sometimes. The implants signified this. The technology separated them from the barbarity, the brutality, the evil. What this had been was discipline. The punishment had only been to remove his implants. Without them, he was just a bastard again, a soulless killer -- even they could see that. And there was no reason to keep a man like that alive. She recounted it as if it was all a fact of life, and nothing more. The wisp of smoke rising from her rifle's barrel. The blood trickling from his forehead. The stalks of cane, twice her height, rustling in the wind. The grimace on his face, a wordless scream that persisted on his twisted lips and gaunt cheeks even in death, the pain and loss beneath it strong enough for the rigor mortis to etch it on his face forever. As she watched them pick the implants out of his body so as to make him mortal again they reminded her that underneath all that armor she too was no legendary warrior, no Walküre out of myth. Just someone who could shoot well enough to be useful. Not nothing in her eyes. It was the sky that night, lying behind her pupils -- black clouds, no stars, no moon. Midnight forever as she looked up and away from his corpse, her grinning CO, the idling Jeep. Just something that had happened. An object passing through space. Another blue day. They found seven more bodies over the next two weeks, other innocents. A peasant, a beggar, a policeman, all one shot, directly through the head. It was rumored to be something criminal, some great underworld conspiracy coming to the fore in a town of a bare few thousand. There were rumors of pitched battles between rival gangs high in the hills with strange weapons, things that made odd noises and produced great flashes of colored light. Anyone who ventured close turned up days later, another bullet, another head. Then it stopped, the hills falling silent, no more bodies, no reminder that anything had even happened at all. After a month the world ceased to wonder what had killed them, those corpses out of town, on the roads and in the cane fields. It just carried on, as it had always had. I see her in my nightmares, sometimes. Her scarred face, her jagged and paranoid movements. Parmenio's funeral was short, sad, quiet. His father cried, the careworn wrinkles on the face of the man who sliced tendons and drained blood drowned with tears. His mother stood stone-faced looking at his coffin, beautiful mahogany wood lined with pristine white cloth. They could not entirely afford it, but here death was an occasion to be celebrated. Pay out in a lump sum to the corpse the debt that you would otherwise slowly have diminished in life with gifts, kind words, small acts of love. After a few minutes, she started to sob, too. The tears welled from his whole extended family, aunts and uncles and distant second cousins united in pain, loss, grief. It was a quiet goodbye. Just broken hearts, trying to heal a scar they knew would never fade, not really. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ----- [[collapsible show="+ Frey, Valkyrie, Odin Base, █████" hide="- There's two bullets in her body, and her breathing's shallow,"]] [[div class="blockquote"]] and she's gasping for air on the stretcher as they lift her up and rush her to the medevac helicopter with its blades beating the dust in great arcs and they tell her to Hold On Frey and Stay With Us Frey but it doesn't work because her name isn't Frey, it's Lily, she's a homeschooled American girl who reads history books in her bunk late at night and thinks of the only relationship she ever had to lull herself to sleep afterwards and can't herself remember just how many people she's killed. She reads by lamplight about Mad Mike Hoare and Jean Schramme in the Congo, the //Les Affreux// -- yes, monsters, neo-colonialist soldiers of fortune, self-described romantics who threw hand grenades at civilians and took photos of the aftermath, and she's just like them, and she's dying just like them. The only form of justice mercenaries ever face: death. Blades beating over the Gulf, the Golden Hour ticking away, those sixty minutes between life and death -- but it's pointless, some animal part of her already knows this, that the blood loss and the lead in her lungs is too much. The medics put on a good show. They have a game they like to play, pretending that even though they save the lives of monsters that they aren't monsters themselves, that they can go home when their contracts are done with clean consciences. But there's a reason they always re-up, always return for another season in the copters and in the tents. Odin Base in Texas, the American South, the spiritual locus of the right-neoliberal private military-industrial complex. Brown & Root, Dyncorp, Military Professional Resources Incorporated -- companies not much better than Valravn, really, the higher-ups always rationalize in their sales pitches, just in front of the Veil, with friends in slightly higher places. The base itself is just nine grey buildings next to a cane field, a short barbed-wire fence, never any trouble from the cops. No paranoid need for secrecy here. No bodies in the fields because they spotted Valkyries on a training exercise, lounging around on base, out for an officially-prohibited drink. She wonders why that is, but deep down knows the answer already, that the supposedly apolitical mercenaries may have personal agendas that the money just helps reinforce. Heartbeat weak, low blood pressure, her face turning white, come on, come on, let's go, off the helicopter and into the medical building with expensive new equipment and a painting of the god of healing, Eir, on the wall, a little joke from one of the commanders. She's unconscious, someone intubate her -- and out come the scalpels, more a formality, just so they can say they tried. Back in Colombia, the wind whistling through the cane fields. Jake isn't her friend, not really, just someone who's willing to bend the rules with her. He's an explicit atheist, which doesn't really click with the more than vaguely fascist neopagan ethos of the high command. The people that actually //pray// to Odin and Thor and all those masculine warrior-gods are a definite minority, of course. Most just accept the Norse stuff as little more than aesthetics -- which it is, really, the higher-ups are just the same white supremacist ghouls you'd see anywhere else, no real difference from the Christian kind -- but he explicitly rejects it, an attitude that's likely to get him killed, people whisper. What the hell does he care. He wants a drink. Smoke rising from her rifle's barrel, because this is what it means, to be a soldier: to pull the trigger and feel nothing, to serve your country. She doesn't feel anything when she kills, hasn't ever, not even in the Army. Something wrong inside her from the start. Still American. Still from Sacramento, despite everything, the River City, sunny days in the Central Valley. Childhood days, maybe she's forgotten something, some initial moment of moral failure, some animal homicide like the serial killers she sees in non-fiction books and dramatized miniseries. She's just like them, and she's dying just like them. Massive perforation, think one nicked her stomach, really don't know if she's going to pull through being honest. The years in the Sahara, sun, heat, sand. Once she came across an empty monastery, long abandoned, barren but for a dense coating of dust. A few miles east snow-white bones poked out of the dunes, worn crosses still with them, something Jake found quite funny. They swept over oasis towns, desert villages, taking and doing whatever they wanted -- because this is what they do, the mercenaries in the history books, the men with pikes and plate armor. They loot and plunder, murder and kill. In Iraq again, in her bunk, with Lt. Walschausen, crying, the day before that fateful patrol. She misses her, and that's all she can say, she misses her. Pupils dilated. She's not breathing. Eighteen years old, standing at the bus stop late at night, her parents don't want her to enlist but what the hell else is she going to do, she can't work fast food, can't afford a degree. So what the hell did you do, huh? So what was it then, Lily, what the hell was it, huh? Three people dead. Three innocent people and you're just staring at me, staring at me like you always fucking do. Always thought it was funny, how the helicopters flew through U.S. airspace fine, how the UIU truck drove by once and left, how she never stopped serving her country, not really. No pulse. Heart stopped. Attempting to revive. She doesn't drink anymore because it stopped working. Nothing left now not after everything. You're Frey now, said the smiling officer. Midnight forever in the cane field. Blackness, darkness, the stretching sky. Patient expired, mark the time, 3:27 PM. She liked the way her hand felt on her cheek. She liked the way her hair felt and smelled and how she was soft to the touch and how when they held hands when they cuddled she would flex hers and move a finger around maybe to let her know that she was there, that she was loved. She liked her a lot and when they broke up she was sad, in her soul sad, a sort of lethal kind of heartbreak that just followed her around until another recruiter came and found her, this time in a smart suit and tie and a weird medieval-looking eagle pin on his lapel, asking her would she like to find gainful employment again, and she said yes, gladly yes, and when they put her under anesthetic for the first of the implants she was back in Sacramento, on that lonely bus stop night, waiting for the chariot that would take her away from this life, away from this world, everything, up into Valhalla where the valiant warriors rest, carried there by the Valkyries, Odin's chosen few. But she's not rising, they're carrying her down, she's falling, and-- [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] ---- [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Long Arm Larry and Ralliston]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]] -----	2023-08-09T14:04:00	[ "_licensebox", "chaos-insurgency", "co-authored", "lgbtq", "manna-charitable-foundation", "military-fiction", "ninth-world", "no-dialogue", "tale", "valravn" ]	Walküre - SCP Foundation	42	[ "the-longest-arm", "ralliston-s-authorpage", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "the-ninth-world-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "chaos-insurgency-hub" ]	[]	1449324717	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/walkure
wanderlust	<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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <ul class="modal-wrapper"> <li class="unfolded"> <div id="u-adult-warning"> <div id="u-adult-header"> <p>ADULT CONTENT</p> </div> <br/> This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. <div class="content-descriptor"><span style="display: syntax error near `{$gore} ==`">Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$sexual-r`">Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: syntax error near `{$sexually`">Explicit depiction of sexual acts.</span><br/> <span style="display: block">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> <blockquote> <p><strong>Content Warning:</strong> The following contains themes of Sexual Assault.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: white"><strong>sotheravensaid</strong></span> 08/14/2013 (Tues.) 09:11:43 #53657685</p> <hr/> <p>Remember the show Wanderlust, the gameshow featuring the falcon mask guy? He would always start by waving to everyone in the studio audience with the perpetual grin on his mask. You can look it up. Find the IMDB page or whatever, preferably you read that before you move on. I just, I want people to confirm that this happened, to tell me it was really real, and you all seem like the people who will finally listen.</p> <p>I was contestant on the show, Ella Sanchez, the third contestant of season two, episode four. It was the only episode with seven contestants in case you have an out of order DVD. I was chosen as a contestant for Wanderlust in March of 2003, we recorded a month after the casting call was made. The director I spoke to was very particular about the people he choose, mainly young women, and a few smaller boys. It was all really strange looking back, especially the physicals. They had a doctor come in and make sure that we were healthy enough to perform the tasks, though this went beyond your typical stretch test and spine examination. They ran blood tests for diseases and took strength tests, though I failed the latter horribly.</p> <p>I still got accepted on, said I had great potential despite the lack of strength, and my family was given a small stipend with the promise of a three-thousand-dollar cash prize and a paid for vacation if I won. I didn’t win, though when I was walking back to the loser’s lounge or whatever they called it in this show, I ran into the host.</p> <p>He still had a mask on his face, he gave me a pat on the back and told me I did great work. Told me that he thinks I may have other big things coming my way. He gets ready to head to his dressing room when he turns to me and asks if I want to see his agent, to meet him and learn about other opportunities. Ones with better things than a 3,000 dollar cash prize.</p> <p>I, stupidly, agreed and followed him where ever he went down the twisting studio corridors. There were no back stage hands, just machinery, lights, wiring, and props. I pointed out one, a big ball from some random episode in season one and asked if Mr. Wanderlust could really do a handstand on it. He hummed and laughed it off saying he was capable of many things, and that he’d teach me a lot if I stuck with him.</p> <p>When we entered his dressing room a click went off behind me. The door was locked but he looked unfazed. Instead, he just sat near me on a couch, kicking back his feet. His hand reached up to his mask and he removed it. He set it on the table, and turned to me.</p> <p>I don’t think I could describe what was under there. I just know I was fucking terrified of it. There were hundreds of small tendrils lashing out, complete darkness where any facial feature should've been. He still spoke in the same half southern tone, as he pinned me down and asked me:</p> <p>"Where do you want to go?"</p> <p>I screamed out, but his own screech covered it up. I kept my eyes closed for as long as I could but when I opened it up again, a set of human teeth and flesh were splitting down where his throat should have been. I tried screaming louder but his own hand covered up my mouth. He told me to relax, to just let him eat, that I would be with my family soon.</p> <p>He laughed. I struggled. Thankfully, some time in the middle of all of this the door opened and he was shocked. For a second, he let loose my hands. I ran, shoving past the man in the doorway down to the lounge, back to my family. Screaming and crying. Neither one of them chased me as I ran into the main room. The not eliminated contestants and studio audience were watching and all the cameras were rolling despite the break.</p> <p>That is when I heard his laugh. I turned to see Mr. Wanderlust fanning at the camera, telling them I just saw a spider, no big deal. A pain cracked through my head, it was telling me to do nothing. To stay still and nod. So I did, until the filming was finished.</p> <p>I was sent home to my family, with a shit ton of cash, and the threat of a legal battle to bankrupt us if we did anything. I still cry about it at night, wondering if I was the only one he tried to get, wondering if had I spoken out would I have saved others. I don’t know to be honest, though it always bothered me, that the show went on still for another four seasons. I always looked at the contestants list, seeing if any of them went missing or dead, but there was nothing. Always all six kids came back home with their small stipend, and one of them always went on their big grand vacation.</p> <p>I just want to know after all of these years, where is Mr. Wanderlust after that last season? They say he died in a car accident, though, I don’t think whatever I saw that day, could even die.</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="/wanderlust">Wanderlust?</a>" by Rex Atlas, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/wanderlust">https://scpwiki.com/wanderlust</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/component:adult-content-warning">:scp-wiki:component:adult-content-warning</a> \|sexual-assault=1 \|prev=main-page \|current=Wanderlust \|next=main-page ]] [[module CSS]] div#header h1 { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Acreepypasta/parawatch.png); } [[/module]] > Content Warning: The following contains themes of Sexual Assault. [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > ##white\|sotheravensaid## 08/14/2013 (Tues.) 09:11:43 #53657685 > ------ > Remember the show Wanderlust, the gameshow featuring the falcon mask guy? He would always start by waving to everyone in the studio audience with the perpetual grin on his mask. You can look it up. Find the IMDB page or whatever, preferably you read that before you move on. I just, I want people to confirm that this happened, to tell me it was really real, and you all seem like the people who will finally listen. > > I was contestant on the show, Ella Sanchez, the third contestant of season two, episode four. It was the only episode with seven contestants in case you have an out of order DVD. I was chosen as a contestant for Wanderlust in March of 2003, we recorded a month after the casting call was made. The director I spoke to was very particular about the people he choose, mainly young women, and a few smaller boys. It was all really strange looking back, especially the physicals. They had a doctor come in and make sure that we were healthy enough to perform the tasks, though this went beyond your typical stretch test and spine examination. They ran blood tests for diseases and took strength tests, though I failed the latter horribly. > > I still got accepted on, said I had great potential despite the lack of strength, and my family was given a small stipend with the promise of a three-thousand-dollar cash prize and a paid for vacation if I won. I didn’t win, though when I was walking back to the loser’s lounge or whatever they called it in this show, I ran into the host. > > He still had a mask on his face, he gave me a pat on the back and told me I did great work. Told me that he thinks I may have other big things coming my way. He gets ready to head to his dressing room when he turns to me and asks if I want to see his agent, to meet him and learn about other opportunities. Ones with better things than a 3,000 dollar cash prize. > > I, stupidly, agreed and followed him where ever he went down the twisting studio corridors. There were no back stage hands, just machinery, lights, wiring, and props. I pointed out one, a big ball from some random episode in season one and asked if Mr. Wanderlust could really do a handstand on it. He hummed and laughed it off saying he was capable of many things, and that he’d teach me a lot if I stuck with him. > > When we entered his dressing room a click went off behind me. The door was locked but he looked unfazed. Instead, he just sat near me on a couch, kicking back his feet. His hand reached up to his mask and he removed it. He set it on the table, and turned to me. > > I don’t think I could describe what was under there. I just know I was fucking terrified of it. There were hundreds of small tendrils lashing out, complete darkness where any facial feature should've been. He still spoke in the same half southern tone, as he pinned me down and asked me: > > "Where do you want to go?" > > I screamed out, but his own screech covered it up. I kept my eyes closed for as long as I could but when I opened it up again, a set of human teeth and flesh were splitting down where his throat should have been. I tried screaming louder but his own hand covered up my mouth. He told me to relax, to just let him eat, that I would be with my family soon. > > He laughed. I struggled. Thankfully, some time in the middle of all of this the door opened and he was shocked. For a second, he let loose my hands. I ran, shoving past the man in the doorway down to the lounge, back to my family. Screaming and crying. Neither one of them chased me as I ran into the main room. The not eliminated contestants and studio audience were watching and all the cameras were rolling despite the break. > > That is when I heard his laugh. I turned to see Mr. Wanderlust fanning at the camera, telling them I just saw a spider, no big deal. A pain cracked through my head, it was telling me to do nothing. To stay still and nod. So I did, until the filming was finished. > > I was sent home to my family, with a shit ton of cash, and the threat of a legal battle to bankrupt us if we did anything. I still cry about it at night, wondering if I was the only one he tried to get, wondering if had I spoken out would I have saved others. I don’t know to be honest, though it always bothered me, that the show went on still for another four seasons. I always looked at the contestants list, seeing if any of them went missing or dead, but there was nothing. Always all six kids came back home with their small stipend, and one of them always went on their big grand vacation. > > I just want to know after all of these years, where is Mr. Wanderlust after that last season? They say he died in a car accident, though, I don’t think whatever I saw that day, could even die. > [[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>]]	2023-03-23T02:47:00	[ "_adult", "_licensebox", "creepypasta", "parawatch", "tale" ]	Wanderlust? - SCP Foundation	39	[ "main-page", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "parawatch-hub", "creepy-pasta" ]	[]	1446937491	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wanderlust
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</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="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"><strong>War in the Library</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="/no-return-hub">No Return Hub</a></strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><strong><a href="/grigori-karpin-s-author-page">More by Grigori Karpin</a></strong><br/> <strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lizardwizard-author-page">More by LizardWizard</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 if you haven’t yet, promise it’s short.</a></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>The Wanderers’ Library</strong><br/> <em>1 October, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>Walking down the towering aisles, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/black-queen-hub">Alison Chao</a> stopped and bent down to examine one of the leatherbound tomes. Li Fong Yue, Vanguard agent of MTF Tau-9 (“Bookworms”) watched as the Black Queen picked up the book and turned it over in her hands.</p> <p>“We have things to do,” Li said.</p> <p>“Oh relax, Agent. Your organization has been waiting to get into the Library for generations. I’d think you of all people would be interested in smelling the roses.”</p> <p>Li looked around at the endless bookshelves surrounding them, the scragged housing a few hundred meters away, the ramen shop halfway up a floating cliff-face of lime crystal dividing sections of the Library. Swooping away from the shop was a man held aloft by butterfly wings made of stained glass, his eyes glowing orbs emitting yellow mist. A circle of scholars sat around a small blue fire pit, the pyre lighting up their faces as they discussed some magical treatise or another. <em>Or they could be talking about their latest bender,</em> for all she knew.</p> <p>Absent-mindedly, Li reached down and placed her hand on her holstered sidearm.</p> <p>“You’re absolutely sure the Librarians won’t mind us being… equipped?”</p> <p>Chao laughed. “No, people bring weapons into the Library all the time. The only problem is when someone uses them. Any violence against a patron will get you kicked out, or worse.”</p> <p>“Just worried. We’re on thin ice already, having been blocked from the Stacks for so long. I don’t want to give them an excuse. I’d love to take time to see the sights, but our mission is more important than that.”</p> <p>“Our mission is to grab some fucking books.” <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/of-an-endless-hunt">Amy Corwin</a> walked up beside the two of them. Her gaze panned over the nearby stacks then her eyes unfocused, like she was staring out towards the horizon.</p> <p>“Where did you go?” Li asked.</p> <p>Amy refocused her gaze at the agent. “Fuck off, Jailor.”</p> <p>Chao placed a hand on Amy’s arm.</p> <p>“Alright, alright. I got it. All on the same side now. Yeah.” Amy looked up at the distant twinkling ceiling of the library, endless meters away. “Shut up. I said I got it.”</p> <p>Amy walked on. Chao turned to Li with a lopsided frown. “Sorry about that. She has a lot of issues with the new system, given how your previous organization treated her.”</p> <p>“She’s not alone,” Li said. “It’ll be an uphill battle getting anyone to trust us.”</p> <p>“We’ve all done things we regret in this conflict. The best way forward is the path we’re taking… together.”</p> <p>Li didn’t say anything, she just watched Amy Corwin walk away. She turned and made sure the rest of the party was keeping up – researchers, other thaumaturgists, and a few other agents.</p> <p>When she turned back to the Black Queen, Chao was holding out the book to her. <em>The Once and Future Tyrant – A Comprehensive Survey of Alternative Versions of the SCP Foundation from the Multiverse.</em></p> <p>“What’s this about? I get it, we’re the bad guys. But surely in some universe we did more go–”</p> <p>“This is more interesting because of what it’s missing,” Chao said.</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“There’s no mention of Vanguard anywhere.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Watchtower-19</strong><br/> <em>28 September, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>“Right, what’s your proposal?”</p> <p>“Directo–”</p> <p>“I’m not a Director anymore.”</p> <p>Li shrugged. “What am I supposed to call you?”</p> <p>“Tilda? Ms. Moose? ‘Hey you’? We’re working on it. But for now, it’s an interim board in charge.”</p> <p>Alison Chao laughed. “Aren’t the members of a board still directors?”</p> <p>“Shit.” Moose chuckled. “Whatever you want to call me then. Now, Li, what is it you’re proposing?”</p> <p>Li nodded, and said, “We go into the Library and establish a beachhead. Something like an outpost. Plant a flag, now that we have access.”</p> <p>Chao frowned. “The way you said that makes it sound… needlessly colonial. Let me clarify. For years now, I have been collecting and guarding occult literature within the Library, but not of the Library. I call it the Depository, and it’s been open to the use of the Serpent’s Hand and its’ allies. I want to secure this Depository, bring the books back, and distribute them throughout Vanguard for reference. But the Depository itself will serve as a Lighthouse or sorts, something open to the public, particularly the anomalous public, as a forward facing Vanguard base. If we’re going to start reaching out to the anomalous world, we need to get the Library and its patrons aware of us and the new direction of the Fou… Vanguard.”</p> <p>Moose nodded. “I like that idea. Okay, this makes sense to me. Is this going to be a mobilization, Li? Do you expect any resistance?”</p> <p>“Possibly political. A lot of people don’t quite trust Vanguard yet, and there’s always the chance someone tries to start a riot.”</p> <p>“I want it to be mostly my people, with some core Vanguard personnel. The word has been spread throughout our communication lines and most of the Hand cells are aware of the shift. But it would be good to put forward a friendly and familiar face,” Chao said. “This is as much about establishing an outpost as it is showing that Vanguard can act with more deference and respect than the Foundation did.”</p> <p>“This sounds promising, I’ll bring it to the Board. Tell me more about this Depository.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>The Wanderers’ Library</strong><br/> <em>1 October, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>Hidden between the stacks, three stories tall, a bastion carved from stone served as the Black Queen’s Depository. The building itself was ovoid with gently sloping walls, with a minaret with a small observation deck stretching out of the top. A short wall surrounded the building, with a gatehouse at the front. A pale green moss covered much of these walls, but the Depository itself was untouched.</p> <p>The Depository was a jarring sight in the way that only an anomalous space defying the rules of space and time could be. A small castle within twenty meters of bookshelves and Library patrons was a strange sight. Despite this, the Librarians actively avoided it, and those patrons within sight seemed to pay it no mind, as if they hadn’t noticed it.</p> <p>Chao and Corwin were opening the gate as Li and the rest of the team approached.</p> <p>“How did this happen, anyway?” Li asked.</p> <p>“We don’t know. We found it abandoned but sitting right in the middle of the Library,” the Black Queen said. “I suppose we were squatting at first, but when I approached the Archivist about the building, it acted like it had no idea what I was talking about. I’ve never seen a Librarian within the walls, and no one approaches the building without being connected to the Serpent’s Hand.”</p> <p>Li looked up at the minaret. There was a small balcony up there, where one could overlook the surrounding area. “Does it project some kind of cognitohazardous or anti-memetic effect?”</p> <p>“None that I know of, though if there was I certainly might not know about it. Honestly, there are endless mysteries here in the Library. There’s a river system connecting different wards, with boats serving to transport books and supplies through the Library. Also, there’s at least two different reading rooms that I know of with windows looking out on outer space, despite the Library not having an outer space. Sometimes, things here just don’t make sense.”</p> <p>Li frowned. “It feels like it doesn’t belong.”</p> <p>“It doesn’t,” Corwin said. She stood outside the open gate with her palms outstretched, her back to the rest of the group. She closed her eyes, and began to murmur.</p> <p>Suddenly, a dome of rippling, shimmering air formed around the structure of the Depository. A seam burst in this dome in front of the gate, allowing for passage through.</p> <p>“What happens if you try to pass through without that trick?” Li asked.</p> <p>Corwin gave her a surly look, then marched into the courtyard.</p> <p>Li ushered the other agents and thaumaturgists in. On the other side of the opening, parallel to Li, the Black Queen leaned against the wall. “Give her time, she’ll warm up to this, really. Amy was on her own for a long time and then ran from your people for even longer. She was even drafted into one of your MTF teams herself for a while before I got her out again.”</p> <p>“Do you trust her?” Li asked.</p> <p>“Yes.”</p> <p>“Then I don’t mind.”</p> <p>“Alright. To answer your question, the boundary of the Depository has a memory charm on it. Anyone who isn’t invited forgets why they’re here and leaves. It’ll have to come down if Vanguard wants to make it a public outreach center.”</p> <p>Li’s eyes widened. “Probably, yeah!”</p> <p>Chao smiled at her, and Li found herself smiling back. For someone called the Black Queen, who had almost single handedly led a massive resistance campaign against the Foundation, she was easygoing and pleasant.</p> <p>“You’re wondering why I’m not more like Amy, aren’t you?”</p> <p>“Are you psychic, too?”</p> <p>“No, it’s just a natural question to have. The truth is, this is the best foot forward we’ve had in a long time. Vanguard is exactly what the Hand has been fighting for all along. Even if not everyone is going to see it that way.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>The Wanderers’ Library</strong><br/> <em>1 October, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>From the third level of the Library, Karl Lange leaned against a bookshelf as he watched the Foundation team enter the Depository. Next to him, Eliza Salazar crouched with a small notepad, scratching off hash marks on the paper. Closing the notebook, she stood and looked over the bannister towards the vanishing team.</p> <p>With a scowl, Salazar spoke. “Twelve, not including the Queen. I recognize some of them, good thaumaturgists. The others I’d guess are Jailor soldiers. Makes me sick, watching her pal around with them.”</p> <p>“Same here. When I was running from the Jailor’s hunters, <em>she</em> was the one who gave me a safe place with the Hand. She saved me. And now she’s a traitor.” Lange was almost growling.</p> <p>“What if they’re forcing her?”</p> <p>“That wouldn’t make sense. She’s too powerful for them to be able to do that. No, something’s changed. The jailors have never been welcome in the Library before. Somehow, some way, they’ve pulled the wool over the eyes of the magical world. But we know them better. We don’t forget. The same bastards who the Queen sides with now killed so many of my people a century ago, and <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/taboo">flushed the rest up that goddamn chimney</a>. Doesn’t matter what they call themselves.”</p> <p>“What do you want to do?”</p> <p>Karl looked down on the building, the shimmering dome closing back around the gate. He watched as Alison Chao walked into the Depository, followed by an Asian Foundation agent.</p> <p>He thought of all those years running after he escaped the <span style="color: green">other place</span>, until he found the Library. Accidentally taking someone’s name, watching him get carted away by the Librarians. Wandering the stacks for weeks, barely subsisting off of the scraps left behind by patrons. Not knowing what he was going to do or where he could go. He thought about when Alison Chao found him, the one from his reality. He thought about her showing him how the Library connected to myriad worlds and the work her sisters were doing with the Hand. That’s when he knew why he’d been spared.</p> <p>“We can’t let them get a hold of the Depository. Those books belong to the Hand, not to the Black Queen.”</p> <p>“Most of the Hand went to the other side, Karl.”</p> <p>“Then fuck them. And fuck the Queen. Those books aren’t meant for Jailor cells.”</p> <p>He checked the rifle slung across his back, and the ammo in his belt.</p> <p>“Call the others,” he ordered.</p> <p>She nodded and left, leaving him holding his weapon at the barrier between the new and the old.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>The Wanderers’ Library</strong><br/> <em>1 October, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>The agents and thaumaturges immediately began packing up the books within the Depository’s library.</p> <p>“Library within the Library,” Li mused.</p> <p>“Yup, very strict lending policy though,” said Amy Corwin.</p> <p>Surprised, Li turned and found Amy next to her. She had a distracted look about her.</p> <p>“Hey.”</p> <p>“So, I’ve been told I need to apologize,” Amy said, almost muttering.</p> <p>“You don’t. Not to me anyway.”</p> <p>“Good. That’s what I said.” Amy nodded curtly.</p> <p>They were quiet for a moment, watching the others load up the books.</p> <p>“What did you mean about the lending policy?” Li asked, desperate to escape the awkward silence.</p> <p>“Oh, it was nonexistent. You take a book you’re not meant to, and you become a Thief.”</p> <p>“How is that different from a normal library?”</p> <p>“Thief with a capital T. Marked as a violator of the rules. Nobody likes a thief, the universe least of all. You’d have some kind of probabilistic cascade against your well-being, until you die in a way both convoluted and ironic, somehow. Final Destination type shit.”</p> <p>“Okay, as upsetting as that is, that’s a big problem. Aren’t we planning to take these books out of here?”</p> <p>“Sure, but Ali was the one who put the curse on them, so she can take it off… probably.”</p> <p>“Probably?”</p> <p>“She’s working on it.”</p> <hr/> <p>Alison Chao threw a book onto the table in front of her. She crossed her arms and glanced around the small study. A fireplace, reading table, and ritual circle were the only things in the room. She stepped out of the ring of silver and beryllium bronze interlaced in various Celtic knot patterns that made the ritual circle, and leaned against the stone wall.</p> <p>“How the hell did I do this in the first place?”</p> <p>She could feel the working that marked someone as a Thief, sense the edges of the ritual that created the thaumic energies in play. But try as she might, she couldn’t find the right thread to pull to disassemble it.</p> <p>“Maybe it’s a macro problem. I could look at the collection as a whol–”</p> <p>A dull, tolling bell began to ring outside, loud enough to shake her from the reverie.</p> <p><strong><em>“ATTENTION. ATTENTION. THIS IS THE EIGHTH ARCHIVIST OF THE WANDERERS’ LIBRARY.”</em></strong></p> <hr/> <p>Li put a hand on her holstered sidearm. “What the hell was that?”</p> <p>Amy ran to a high window, perching on a stool to look out onto the courtyard. “Shit!”</p> <p><strong><em>“I HAVE DETECTED HOSTILE ACTORS PRESENTLY IN THE AREA OF THE HAND’S DEPOSITORY.”</em></strong></p> <p>“What the fuck is happening?” Li asked.</p> <p>Amy slammed a bar across the bastion’s main door, went to a bookshelf, slid it away from the wall and grabbed a pump action shotgun hidden behind it. “We’re being attacked.”</p> <hr/> <p>“We’ve been made!” Eliza cried as she quickly dropped behind a low wall surrounding a storage area in the courtyard.</p> <p>Karl looked up towards the distant Library ceiling. The booming voice came again, echoing off the stone ramparts of the small bastion in front of them.</p> <p><strong><em>“AS THE PERPETRATORS OF THIS INTENDED VIOLENCE, AND THE TARGET OF THEIR IRE, ARE BOTH SERPENT’S HAND MEMBERS, I HAVE MADE A DECISION. VIOLENCE IS PROHIBITED WITHIN THE BOUNDS OF THE LIBRARY, SO THE CONFLICT WILL NOT TAKE PLACE WITHIN OUR HALLS.”</em></strong></p> <p>A pressure began to build over the surrounding area, pressing Karl into the earth of the courtyard. A high-pitched whine steadily rose, causing a sharp pain in his ears. He turned and looked towards Eliza, saw her clutching the right side of her head.</p> <p>He reached out for the other five members of his crew, also down on their knees in the dirt, and saw blood trickle from Iphigenia’s ears. And then the pressure released its grip on Karl’s head, followed by a sudden flood of light. He shielded his eyes as he looked up, and saw an overcast orange sky above them.</p> <p>Eliza followed his eyes skyward and stared. “What the fuck is going on?”</p> <p><strong><em>“YOU CAN COME BACK IN WHEN YOU’VE SETTLED YOUR DIFFERENCES. ONE WAY OR THE OTHER.”</em></strong></p> <p>A loud gunshot rang out, and a puff of dirt lifted into the air a few paces from Karl’s position. He looked up and saw a shotgun sticking out of an arrow slit.</p> <p>“Pull back! Through the gate!”</p> <p>Eliza dragged him to his feet and hauled him out of the courtyard, followed by the five other members of Jacob's Rise. The seven of them represented the only members of the team that were left after one too many dangerous ops. Eliza didn’t want to lose any more of them, Karl assumed. He didn’t either.</p> <p>Karl collapsed against the outer wall surrounding the courtyard, on the far side of the gate. Out of the line of fire he looked out towards the horizon. To his left, as far as he could see, there was nothing but gray sand and large obsidian towers; to his right a verdant green sea gently slapped against the shore. Sand, water, and stone. And a perpetually overcast orange sky.</p> <p>“Where the hell are we?” Karl asked. Eliza shrugged.</p> <p>The shotgun fired, snapping him out of his reverie.</p> <p>“Hey Lange, I fucking see you!” Amy Corwin yelled from inside the Depository.</p> <p>Crouched against the stone wall, Eliza met his eyes. “Well, this is going great.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Another Place</strong><br/> <em>1 October, 2021</em></p> </div> <p>Li grabbed Corwin and yanked her away from the arrow slit. “You’re asking to get shot hanging your entire ass out there.”</p> <p>“Son of a bitch. I know that asshole.” Corwin worked the action on the shotgun, ejecting a case and racking a new round.</p> <p>“Who are they?”</p> <p>“An edgy dick who calls himself Karl Lange. Idiots who follow him are called Jacob’s Rise. They’re a splinter cell of the Hand. They like to do raids on Bookburner sites and Jailor… Foundation trucks.”</p> <p>“Who’s Jacob?”</p> <p>“Hard to say, his lover? Mentor? Father figure? Never was clear to me. He died a while back on a mission.”</p> <p>“Wait, I thought you were all in different cells.”</p> <p>“Sure, technically, but when Alison called most of us dropped what we were doing to listen. Lange is a hardliner. We hadn’t heard boo from his group since the announcement.”</p> <p>“So what – is this a hit?”</p> <p>“Maybe. He’s got that zealous vibe, you know? Real edgelord BS. Only good jailor is a dead jailor, that sorta shit.”</p> <p>“<em>Terrific</em>. Where’s Chao?”</p> <p>Corwin looked back towards the stairs leading up to the upper levels. Then she panned around the bookshelf laden walls, catching the eyes of a half dozen archivists and mages crouching down covering their heads.</p> <p>“Becca, get over here.”</p> <p>A red haired black woman crawled over. “Shouldn’t you be ducking too?”</p> <p>Amy looked out the window towards the courtyard. Nothing was moving out there except the waves of a weird green ocean.</p> <p>“They’ll take a minute. Okay, we need to batten this place down. Get our people up and over to the windows. They’ve all got wooden storm shutters, open up the glass and get those shutters clamped down.” She turned back to Li and pointed at the sidearm in its holster. “Have you ever fired that thing?”</p> <p>“Of course.”</p> <p>“What about your people? Can we count on them in a fight?”</p> <p>“No. They’re archivists. I’m the only field agent.”</p> <p>“Shit. Okay.” She turned back to the stairs. “Becca, on second thought, get one of our people up those stairs and find out where her royal self is. While you’re at it, take a look out the observation deck. The big bug did something and I’m guessing we’re not in Kansas anymore. Find out what’s going on.”</p> <p>“While they’re doing that, what are we doing?” Li asked.</p> <p>“First watch, hot stuff.” She pointed to the portal in the main door and walked back to the window, this time taking cover behind the wall as she kept her eyes on the courtyard. “You watch that side of the building through the view port in the door, and I’ll watch this one. There’s only the one gate, but the wall ain’t that tall, so we’ll need to watch for them climbing over.”</p> <p>“Agent Li,” hissed one of the archivists. “What’s happening?”</p> <p>“We’re being attacked. Keep away from the windows. Retreat to one of the inner rooms when you can. I don’t suppose any of you know how to use a firearm?”</p> <p>The archivists all shook their heads. “Okay. Then get down and stay out of the way.”</p> <p>She looked out the view port – a miniature trapdoor within the wooden door one could open – towards the courtyard and at the open gate. The distance was only fifteen meters from the wall to the Depository’s entrance. She could just see the outline of someone crouching through the gate, and for a brief moment their eyes met. He had a shaved head, five-o-clock shadow, and piercing green eyes. Then he backed out of sight.</p> <p>Li looked over toward Amy. “How many were there?”</p> <p>“Six, I think. Armed to the teeth from what I saw.”</p> <p>“Terrific. The one with the green eyes, is that Lange?”</p> <p>“Yeah. He’s a <span style="color: green">vanished one</span>, or at least that’s what I heard.”</p> <p>“Openly? Usually, they try to hide their nature.”</p> <p>Amy shrugged. “It’s what I heard.” She looked up the stairs. “Where the hell is she?”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>Alison looked out from the tower into the surrounding vista. Pink dusty plains all the way to the horizon in one direction and emerald waters in the other. There was no sign of life besides scrub bushes and yellow moss on the obsidian formations dotting the sandy plain. Everything was eerily quiet; even the sea lapping against the gray shore was muted somehow. She could breathe without difficulty, so this was an Earth-like reality, but she was sure it wasn’t anywhere close to home. Alison shuddered thinking of the power necessary to shift a building full of people into another reality. The Archivist was often conciliatory but always terrifying.</p> <p>Alison turned her attention to the wall, where the fleeing Rise agents had taken shelter. She could just make out their movements by listening to the crunch of sand beneath gauche combat boots. Alison rolled her eyes. Karl had always been so militant.</p> <p>She lent some will to her voice and called out to them.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>“You three, circle around and make sure no one is climbing over the back wall,” Karl said.</p> <p>Two men and a woman armed with AK-47 rifles nodded and began slowly walking around the wall, keeping close to it to maintain cover.</p> <p>Eliza sidled up next to him and crouched so they were eye to eye.</p> <p>“What exactly is the plan here, Karl?”</p> <p>“The plan was to take them by surprise and force them out of the building.”</p> <p>“Then what?”</p> <p>“Make sure they couldn’t find it again. The books in there contain secrets that could threaten the Library itself. We can’t risk them falling into Jailor hands”</p> <p>“Okay, but that plan isn’t going to work anymore. What do we do now??”</p> <p>“I’m working on it, we need to get insi–”</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong><em>KARL LANGE. LET’S TALK.</em></strong></span></p> <p>Eliza and Karl shuddered and clamped their hands over their ears.</p> <p>“Jesus Christ!” Eliza yelled.</p> <p><strong><em>Sorry about that, I was a little too eager. Haven’t done this in a while. How’s this?</em></strong></p> <p>Eliza and Karl shared a look, but didn’t respond.</p> <p><strong><em>Karl, can you hear me?</em></strong></p> <p>“Yes.”</p> <p><strong><em>What are you hoping to accomplish with this stunt?</em></strong></p> <p>“I won’t let you take the books, Alison. They can’t have them.”</p> <p><strong><em>Them, who?</em></strong></p> <p>“The Jailors, don’t play dumb.”</p> <p><strong><em>There is no Foundation anymore, Karl.</em></strong></p> <p>“Same people, different name. Trust me, I know the process. Still a Jailor.”</p> <p><strong><em>Vanguard’s objectives are the literal opposite of the Foundation. The Jailors are no more.</em></strong></p> <p>“Yeah, bullshit. You can’t give them the books, Alison. I won’t allow it.”</p> <p><strong><em>You’ve always been too eager for violence, Karl. It’s why my sister passed you along to me. But the Hand wasn’t just about fighting the Foundation.</em></strong></p> <p>“You don’t get to say what the Hand was. It’s whatever we want it to be.”</p> <p><strong><em>You aren’t the Hand, Karl. Or did you forget? We kicked you out.</em></strong></p> <p>“You kicked us out. After Jacob died, you left us in the dark. And you know what? We were fine without you.”</p> <p><strong><em>Can we talk this out?</em></strong></p> <p>“Why don’t you shut up, traitor?”</p> <p>The disembodied voice sighed.</p> <p><strong><em>We’ll talk later.</em></strong></p> <p>Eliza pulled up her carbine and stood up. “Fuck this.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>“What the hell are you doing?” Amy yelled up the stairwell.</p> <p>Alison Chao appeared at the top of the stairs and started descending.</p> <p>“Opening a dialogue.”</p> <p>“Uh huh. Couldn’t hear their side of things, but let me guess…”</p> <p>“No, it didn’t go well.”</p> <p>“You had to try,” Li said.</p> <p>“Thank you, Agent Li.” Alison smiled subtly.</p> <p>Amy snorted. She looked out the window again, training her eyes on the small gate.</p> <p>“What’s our situation?” Chao asked.</p> <p>“Amy and I are armed. Possibly some of your other people.”</p> <p>“Not in the traditional sense,” Amy shook her head.</p> <p>“How many will be of use in a fight?” Li asked.</p> <p>“A few, maybe enough. We didn’t prepare for a war. This was meant to be a simple job.”</p> <p>Chao chanced a look through the window, then retreated. “They have at least a half dozen, maybe more.”</p> <p>“Simple fucking job. Pick up some books, go home.” Amy kicked the ground.</p> <p>“Amy.” Alison sighed.</p> <p>“Yeah yeah, I counted six when they ran for the wall.”</p> <p>“So you, and I, Becca and Georges. Otherwise?” Chao put her finger to her chin in thought.</p> <p>“Archivists. Academics,” Li said.</p> <p>Chao nodded.</p> <p>“Oh, that reminds me. Becca!” Amy yelled over her shoulder.</p> <p>“Yeah boss?”</p> <p>It was Chao’s turn to snort. Amy winked at the Black Queen.</p> <p>“What’s going on around the back?”</p> <p>“Three of their number circled around. They’re staying back there, probably to stop us from climbing over the wall and making a run for it,” Becca said.</p> <p>“There’s nowhere to run to,” Chao said.</p> <p>Li turned away from her vantage on the courtyard, and looked at her with the face of a woman desperate to pretend she was not out of her depth.</p> <p>“We’re somewhere else now. The Eighth Archivist took the entire building and threw us sideways into another reality.”</p> <p>“Wait, then where are we?” Li asked almost hopefully.</p> <p>“Orange skies, gray sand, green oceans. Definitely not Earth.”</p> <p>“Well, shit. So, what do we do?”</p> <p>“Well, I think we shou–”</p> <p>“No time for that!” Amy interrupted. “Here they come.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>Lange led the group with his AK-47 up and firing. Eliza followed, shooting slower and more precisely than her leader. The remaining Jacob’s Rise mage stayed behind the wall, speaking hurriedly, intoning ancient Babylonian and gesticulating with frantic motions. Blood dripped down his arms from slices cut into his palms. This blood began to flow into the air and above the Depository’s structure, spreading outward into a fine mist. Clouds grew in the sky, followed by a crash of thunder and a quickly intensifying drizzle.</p> <p>One of Eliza’s rounds smashed into the door of the Depository, through the small porthole Li was aiming her own weapon through. The bullet struck her in the upper arm and she spun back, blood scattering across the stone floor. Chao cried out and crouched to shelter Li from further barrage. The Black Queen began to mutter to herself while clamping a hand over the wound, a faint red light seeping from between her fingers.</p> <p>The first cracks of lightning split the darkening sky, and a thick red mist drew through the open gate, hiding Lange and his lieutenant from sight. Amy fired the shotgun into the mist twice, then cursed.</p> <p>Amy stepped away from the open window, stretched out her arms, and placed her palms against the frame. She felt the moisture in the air, the crackle of electricity threatening to strike down the Depository. The Witness reached for the water vapor in the air, exchanged one state for another, and condensed it into a thin sheet of ice that coated the stones of the courtyard. The fog cleared just in time for Amy to see Lange lose his footing and land hard on his ass. Amy laughed. Eliza, who had had the soles of her feet frozen to the ground, took advantage of this opportunity to fire a shot at Amy’s direction.</p> <p>Just as suddenly as the ice had formed, it was gone. A thin mist flooded the courtyard once more, clouding Eliza’s sightline. She carefully walked over the slippery wet stones and pulled Lange to his feet. Right as she was about to ask him if he was okay, lightning finally decided to strike the Depository. Only five meters from the pillar of light and sound, Eliza and Lange were thrown back onto the ground. They slid across the stones until they were nearly back where they had started, at the gate to the courtyard.</p> <p>Shaking the pain out of his head, Lange slowly rose to his feet. As he put pressure on his right leg, he groaned. One of his knees had twisted when lightning struck. As the mist cleared, Lange looked over what they had accomplished. He found the only difference seemed to be that the cobblestones were now wet.</p> <p>“Goddamn it.”</p> <p>“Did you really think you’d force your way in here, Karl?” Alison called from inside the building.</p> <p>The storm broke completely. Lange turned and saw his subordinate on his knees, exhausted from the conjuring. Winking at Karl, Corwin held her shotgun pointed directly at the mage.</p> <p>Lange turned and retreated out the gate, followed by Eliza. Both their guns began to glow red and turn painfully hot, forcing the two to drop them. Lange turned back to the Depository with a snarl, and saw a Hand thaumaturge standing on the observation deck holding out a staff. She finished the incantation and the guns melted. Lange gritted his teeth and kicked the pile of scrap out of his way, closing the gateway behind Eliza.</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>“I could have taken his head, Ally.” Amy said, pouting.</p> <p>“I said no. No killing, Amy. Not if we can help it. These people are not our enemies. We can’t solve this through violence, that’s why Becca smote their weapons and not their bodies.”</p> <p>Alison helped Li to a sitting position, taking her hand from the wound. The skin was red, irritated, and her arm and torso were stained with blood, but the bullet wound was gone.</p> <p>“And you, Agent Li? How do you feel?”</p> <p>“Uh… it hurts a bit, and I’m a little shaken, but okay given the alternative.” Li rubbed at the muscles in her upper arm – remembering the feeling of the bullet ripping through her just a minute ago. “How did you do that?”</p> <p>“It’s a minor mending. You’re lucky the wound wasn’t worse, or it might not have worked.”</p> <p>“What’s happening out there?” Li slowly stood up, still gently probing where the bullet wound had been.</p> <p>Alison risked a glance through the porthole in the door. “They’ve retreated for the moment. Even if they weren’t disheartened over how badly that went, the loss of their guns will give them pause. Speaking of disarming, Becca, come down here!”</p> <p>Becca came halfway down the stairs. “What’s up, boss?”</p> <p>Alison gave a quick look and a wry smile at Amy, then turned back to the mage on the stairwell.</p> <p>“From the observation deck, can you see the other four?”</p> <p>Becca nodded.</p> <p>“Good. Do the same trick on them. No more guns.”</p> <p>Becca saluted and rushed back up the stairs.</p> <p>“So, what’s the plan now, <em>my queen</em>?” Amy asked with a curtsey.</p> <p>“Oh, fuck off.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>Eliza sighed and sat down next to Lange. “That went well.”</p> <p>Lange narrowed his eyes and grumbled.</p> <p>“What’s the plan now?” she asked.</p> <p>“I’m thinking.”</p> <p>“Well, they burnt our guns, and we can probably assume they did it to our other agents too, so that limits our options.” She cocked her head in the mage’s direction. He was gasping for breath with his head between his knees. “And Ezekiel looks like he’s out for the count.”</p> <p>“There’s probably not much water here, we don’t know what that sea is made of. So the conjuring probably took a lot,” Lange said.</p> <p>“Great, I get it. Not my point.”</p> <p>“Well, I don’t fucking know, Eliza! What do you want me to do?”</p> <p>“Maybe we could just… talk to her.”</p> <p><strong><em>About time one of you had a smart idea.</em></strong></p> <p>“Jesus Christ, Chao.”</p> <p><strong><em>Sorry, it’s rude to eavesdrop. But then, you did just shoot my friend, so I’m not horribly bothered. You’re ready to talk?</em></strong></p> <p>Lange grit his teeth and growled affirmatively.</p> <p><strong><em>Excellent! Karl, you and Eliza come back into the courtyard. I’ll be there, and we’ll chat it out. Sound like a plan?</em></strong></p> <p>“Whatever.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>“You are not going out there!” Amy yelled.</p> <p>“I have to say, ma’am, I think it’s a terrible idea,” Li chimed in.</p> <p>“Duly noted.” Chao opened the door to the Depository and walked into the courtyard.</p> <p>Across from her, Eliza and Lange entered from the opposing gate. Lange had a pronounced limp, and was leaning on Eliza for support. The two stopped just inside the gate, leaving nearly ten meters between them.</p> <p>“So, Jacob’s Rise. That’s what you call your merry band, right?”</p> <p>“That’s right,” Eliza said.</p> <p>“Why?”</p> <p>“You know why, Chao.”</p> <p>“Humor me.”</p> <p>“To honor his memory,” Lange groaned as he spoke.</p> <p>“Right. His memory. What did he stand for, in your opinion?”</p> <p>“Don’t do this.”</p> <p>“Come on, let’s play this out. You knew him well, if I remember right. What did Jacob Kaufman stand for?”</p> <p>“Justice. For <span style="color: green">my people</span>. Especially against the Foundation and their pogroms. Not to mention reinforcing the original genocide with their containment. He stood for fighting against oppression.”</p> <p>“How did he feel about burning books?”</p> <p>“Fuck off.”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“You’re calling me a fascist. Stop it.”</p> <p>“I’m not calling you a fascist, but I’m not the one who launched a raid on a library.”</p> <p>“Like we haven’t done worse in the name of our mission. Come on, Chao, we used to fight the Jailors together. How could you give our secrets to them like this?”</p> <p>“Karl, we fought together to stop the Jailors from oppressing others. You fought here today out of obsession.”</p> <p>“Obsession?”</p> <p>“Obsession. Jacob was a good soldier, but he understood that there was more than one way to fight our war. For every time he took arms against the Jailors, he used strategy, diplomacy, and espionage. You bluntly tried to use lightning to burn down my Depository, and you couldn’t even get that right.”</p> <p>“You know, Chao, I used to idolize you. I was barely an adult, running around, and here was this magical woman who stood against the people who murdered my family. After I found out who your parents were, I still trusted you, because I really believed you were beyond them. You had to be, to do all you had done, right? But now I see you as you are. One breath of an excuse, and you go running back to your father, huh?” Karl smirked and showed his teeth.</p> <p>Alison stared intensely at Karl and Eliza for a few moments. She took a few deep breaths, and rubbed the tips of her fingers together. Then, she smiled and chuckled softly. “Are you seriously trying to martyr yourself?” she asked.</p> <p>“Fuck you! Those books weren’t yours to give anyways!”</p> <p>“Yes, they are. I collected them, I stored them here, I put the charm on them to protect them. These are my books.”</p> <p>“What?”</p> <p>“I held the Depository open as a resource for members of the Hand, but I put every book into that building. Every single one. And you tried to burn it down.”</p> <p>“That’s not what I wanted.”</p> <p>“Then what the hell was your end goal?”</p> <p>“We have to keep those books away from the Jailors at all costs. I would rather see them burn than see the secrets in them used against us. If there was any other way… it disgusts me to say this, but it was the only choice.”</p> <p>“That’s Jailor thinking, Karl. Dangerous road to walk down.”</p> <p>“Said the Jailor.”</p> <p>“I’m not a Jailor, Karl. The Foundation is gone.”</p> <p>Eliza cleared her throat and spoke up. “Ms. Chao, if I can interrupt here?”</p> <p>The Black Queen nodded.</p> <p>“I don’t believe you, if I’m being honest. You say the Jailors are gone, but they’re not really. The same people are in charge at… whatever you call it now. Just because they changed their name doesn’t make them not Jailors. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to just take you at your word for it.”</p> <p>“Eliza, what was the Jailors’ greatest sin?”</p> <p>“Containment? Seeing the beauty of the world around them and trying to keep it in a box. That’s how the old writing goes, right?”</p> <p>“Exactly. Now, I am someone high up in the hierarchy of Vanguard. I can assure you, Vanguard’s mission is the opposite of containment. It’s normalization, to educate people about magic and protect the innocent. It’s everything the Hand stood for.”</p> <p>“I’d love to believe you, but all we have to go on is your word,” Lange said, “You’re going to have to go a long way to prove that they’ve really changed.”</p> <p>“<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-dan-goes-to-washington">The Veil came down four days ago</a>, by Vanguard’s hand.”</p> <p>There was a long silence. Karl and Eliza gave each other a surprised glance, then looked back at the Black Queen.</p> <p>“You’re fucking with me,” Eliza said.</p> <p>“Nope. The news hasn’t reached you yet?”</p> <p>Lange stayed silent.</p> <p>“Vanguard is everything the Hand has been working to create. We have a real opportunity here, I don’t want to waste it for a blood feud.” Chao nodded at the two agents.</p> <p>Lange shook his head. “Nope. Still doesn’t work for me.”</p> <p>“Why not?” Eliza asked him.</p> <p>“Let’s say, hypothetically, that I believe you. That I believe that thousands of people can completely change heart and turn good. Why then, would I not believe that that same group of people’s hearts could change again, and turn out worse than they had before?”</p> <p>“I can’t really think of a reason why—”</p> <p>“The Foundation slaughtered my family, Chao. I stopped asking why they do anything long ago.”</p> <p>“…fair enough. Well, one of the big reasons is that it won’t be the same people in charge anymore. The O5s are retiring.”</p> <p>“No.”</p> <p>“Yes.”</p> <p>“No, they aren't. The Foundation is how the O5s rule the world, they aren’t just going to turn it into a force for good out of the blue.”</p> <p>“I don’t know what to tell you, Karl. It surprised me too. There was a vote, it was close, but they decided they’d rather live with us than without us. The ones that voted against this path disappeared, probably to work on their own schemes. The others decided to retire. If you’d answered the call as so many other Hand members did, you’d have seen the proof for yourself.”</p> <p>Karl closed his eyes and grabbed at his knee, wincing.</p> <p>“The Foundation isn’t in charge at Vanguard. If it was, I wouldn’t be a part of it,” Chao said.</p> <p>“I still don’t trust it. There’s got to be something rotten left behind. You still have scores of Jailor scientists and soldiers; we can’t risk them getting their hands on these books.”</p> <p>A cough from behind the Black Queen made them all turn. Li Fong Yue stepped from the Depository door, pistol holstered at her hip, and hands extended palm out above her head. Alison groaned internally. The Vanguard uniform she wore was an obviously repurposed set of Foundation tactical gear. If there was anything to set Jacob’s Rise off, it would be seeing her.</p> <p>“Maybe there’s a compromise?” Li suggested.</p> <p>“Fuck off and die, Jailor,” Eliza said. Lange spat.</p> <p>“No, look. I understand your reservations about Vanguard. It’s in its infancy, nobody really knows what the final organization will look like. But there’s got to be a way.”</p> <p>“What did you have in mind, Li?” Alison asked.</p> <p>“Well, this guy here,” Li pointed at Karl, “Seems uncomfortable with the idea of us bringing it to one of our sites. But we’re planning to open an information center, everyone will be welcome to visit anyways. Why not instead set up a shop here?”</p> <p>The Black Queen looked down at the gray sand beneath her feet, pondering.</p> <p>“I think I see what you mean. So, we’re most interested in making these books available for up-and-coming thaumaturges, working with Vanguard. We never had any intention of hiding them away. Additionally, we want to make an open visitors’ center here, a lighthouse if you will, to show people the new way the organization is operating. An embassy, basically.”</p> <p>“Get to the point. What are you proposing?” Lange asked.</p> <p>“We leave the books where they are. Make them available to any Hand Member who wants to see them, as they were before. But we make the Depository the new embassy. It can be a library within the Library, as it always has been, but we’ll still use the building as a place to hold presentations and classes. It’ll even work better this way. And the good part about this is, if Vanguard ever turns into the Jailors again, everyone who would use the books for harm will find themselves barred from the Library anyways, ensuring they are kept safe.”</p> <p>Lange turned and walked back to the gate, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll talk about it.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>“That was stupid,” Amy said.</p> <p>“No, it wasn’t. It was diplomacy. We can’t solve the first intra-organizational problem with violence, that’s not what Vanguard is supposed to be about.”</p> <p>“Sure would be a lot easier to do it that way, though.”</p> <p>“The Queen is right. We need to lead with the carrot and not the stick,” Li said.</p> <p>“Exactly,” Alison said, “In the coming months, we’re going to have to lean on the anomalous community. And if the first public action was to kill anyone who disagrees with us, I think doors that would have been open to Vanguard would slam shut. We’ve got to distance ourselves from the Foundation, and not just in words.”</p> <p>“I still think I should shoot him in his good leg.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>“What exactly is the goal here?” Eliza asked.</p> <p>“What do you mean?” Lange sat against the wall, taking the pressure off of his leg.</p> <p>“What is the goal? Are we trying to kill Chao for ‘betraying the cause’? Are we trying to steal those books back, or destroy them? Are we just angry and want to make our voices heard?”</p> <p>“Eliza, I would never have killed Alison.”</p> <p>“Then what the hell are we doing! We launched an attack without even asking her why she turned. This compromise gives us everything we want, except for blood. Now, is blood the goal?”</p> <p>Lange looked out over the green waves. He sighed. “No. Blood was never the goal. I’ve just been… angry. It goes against everything I thought I knew, seeing her prance around with the Jailors that she saved me from.”</p> <p>“I don’t know if she is, Karl.”</p> <p>He sighed again. “Fine. Let’s go be adults.”</p> <hr/> <hr/> <p>As Lange shook Alison’s hand, the Depository was back in the Wanderers’ Library. Li felt a wave of nausea pass over her, but there was much less spectacle than their first journey.</p> <p><strong><em>“THIS IS THE EIGHTH ARCHIVIST OF THE WANDERERS’ LIBRARY. WELCOME BACK TO THE STACKS. THAT WASN’T SO HARD, WAS IT? NOW, BEHAVE.”</em></strong></p> <p>Amy flipped the distant ceiling off.</p> <p><strong><em>“I SAW THAT, MS. CORWIN.”</em></strong></p> <p>“Good.”</p> <p>Lange stepped back from Chao. “So, we’re agreed. The Depository will be a resource for anyone who needs it?”</p> <p>“Including the Vanguard. But we won’t take a single book out of the building. Probably add more.”</p> <p>“Fine.” There was bile to Lange’s words, but he seemed determined to follow them.</p> <p>Lange turned away and started walking out of the courtyard. Eliza followed him with the rest of Jacob's Rise, taking a moment to look back at the Vanguard agents.</p> <p>“You could at least apologize, assholes!” Amy called after them.</p> <p>Chao turned to Li. “Let’s gather everyone up, finish cataloging the archive and get back to Moose. We’ll need to make some changes around here if it’ll be a library and a… what was the word we’re using for an embassy?”</p> <p>“Lighthouse,” Li said.</p> <p>“That’s the one,” Chao smiled.</p> <p>Li nodded and went back inside. Amy sidled up next to Chao.</p> <p>“You sure you wanna do it this way?” Amy asked.</p> <p>“No choice, this is the best option we have.”</p> <p>“No choice? We could have taken them.”</p> <p>“No, I mean we had <em>no choice.</em> I couldn’t risk taking the books out of here.”</p> <p>Amy met her eyes for a moment and then smiled.</p> <p>“You don’t know how to remove the curse, do you?”</p> <p>Chao shrugged. “Not a clue.”</p> </div> <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="/war-in-the-library">War in the Library</a>" by Grigori Karpin & LizardWizard, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/war-in-the-library">https://scpwiki.com/war-in-the-library</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><br/> <strong>Additional Notes</strong>: Used with their express permission.</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-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: -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; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: 'Copperplate Gothic'; color: #B61805; font-size: 280%"]]War in the Library[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] [[[no-return-hub \| No Return Hub]]] @@ @@ [[[grigori-karpin-s-author-page \| More by Grigori Karpin]]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/lizardwizard-author-page \| More by LizardWizard]]] @@ @@ [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/fragment:scp-6500-17 \| Maybe read this part of SCP-6500 if you haven’t yet, promise it’s short.]]] [[/=]] [[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’"]] [[=]] The Wanderers’ Library //1 October, 2021// [[/=]] Walking down the towering aisles, [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/black-queen-hub \| Alison Chao]]] stopped and bent down to examine one of the leatherbound tomes. Li Fong Yue, Vanguard agent of MTF Tau-9 (“Bookworms”) watched as the Black Queen picked up the book and turned it over in her hands. “We have things to do,” Li said. “Oh relax, Agent. Your organization has been waiting to get into the Library for generations. I’d think you of all people would be interested in smelling the roses.” Li looked around at the endless bookshelves surrounding them, the scragged housing a few hundred meters away, the ramen shop halfway up a floating cliff-face of lime crystal dividing sections of the Library. Swooping away from the shop was a man held aloft by butterfly wings made of stained glass, his eyes glowing orbs emitting yellow mist. A circle of scholars sat around a small blue fire pit, the pyre lighting up their faces as they discussed some magical treatise or another. //Or they could be talking about their latest bender,// for all she knew. Absent-mindedly, Li reached down and placed her hand on her holstered sidearm. “You’re absolutely sure the Librarians won’t mind us being… equipped?” Chao laughed. “No, people bring weapons into the Library all the time. The only problem is when someone uses them. Any violence against a patron will get you kicked out, or worse.” “Just worried. We’re on thin ice already, having been blocked from the Stacks for so long. I don’t want to give them an excuse. I’d love to take time to see the sights, but our mission is more important than that.” “Our mission is to grab some fucking books.” [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/of-an-endless-hunt \| Amy Corwin]]] walked up beside the two of them. Her gaze panned over the nearby stacks then her eyes unfocused, like she was staring out towards the horizon. “Where did you go?” Li asked. Amy refocused her gaze at the agent. “Fuck off, Jailor.” Chao placed a hand on Amy’s arm. “Alright, alright. I got it. All on the same side now. Yeah.” Amy looked up at the distant twinkling ceiling of the library, endless meters away. “Shut up. I said I got it.” Amy walked on. Chao turned to Li with a lopsided frown. “Sorry about that. She has a lot of issues with the new system, given how your previous organization treated her.” “She’s not alone,” Li said. “It’ll be an uphill battle getting anyone to trust us.” “We’ve all done things we regret in this conflict. The best way forward is the path we’re taking… together.” Li didn’t say anything, she just watched Amy Corwin walk away. She turned and made sure the rest of the party was keeping up – researchers, other thaumaturgists, and a few other agents. When she turned back to the Black Queen, Chao was holding out the book to her. //The Once and Future Tyrant – A Comprehensive Survey of Alternative Versions of the SCP Foundation from the Multiverse.// “What’s this about? I get it, we’re the bad guys. But surely in some universe we did more go–” “This is more interesting because of what it’s missing,” Chao said. “What?” “There’s no mention of Vanguard anywhere.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- [[=]] Watchtower-19 //28 September, 2021// [[/=]] “Right, what’s your proposal?” “Directo–” “I’m not a Director anymore.” Li shrugged. “What am I supposed to call you?” “Tilda? Ms. Moose? ‘Hey you’? We’re working on it. But for now, it’s an interim board in charge.” Alison Chao laughed. “Aren’t the members of a board still directors?” “Shit.” Moose chuckled. “Whatever you want to call me then. Now, Li, what is it you’re proposing?” Li nodded, and said, “We go into the Library and establish a beachhead. Something like an outpost. Plant a flag, now that we have access.” Chao frowned. “The way you said that makes it sound… needlessly colonial. Let me clarify. For years now, I have been collecting and guarding occult literature within the Library, but not of the Library. I call it the Depository, and it’s been open to the use of the Serpent’s Hand and its’ allies. I want to secure this Depository, bring the books back, and distribute them throughout Vanguard for reference. But the Depository itself will serve as a Lighthouse or sorts, something open to the public, particularly the anomalous public, as a forward facing Vanguard base. If we’re going to start reaching out to the anomalous world, we need to get the Library and its patrons aware of us and the new direction of the Fou… Vanguard.” Moose nodded. “I like that idea. Okay, this makes sense to me. Is this going to be a mobilization, Li? Do you expect any resistance?” “Possibly political. A lot of people don’t quite trust Vanguard yet, and there’s always the chance someone tries to start a riot.” “I want it to be mostly my people, with some core Vanguard personnel. The word has been spread throughout our communication lines and most of the Hand cells are aware of the shift. But it would be good to put forward a friendly and familiar face,” Chao said. “This is as much about establishing an outpost as it is showing that Vanguard can act with more deference and respect than the Foundation did.” “This sounds promising, I’ll bring it to the Board. Tell me more about this Depository.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- [[=]] The Wanderers’ Library //1 October, 2021// [[/=]] Hidden between the stacks, three stories tall, a bastion carved from stone served as the Black Queen’s Depository. The building itself was ovoid with gently sloping walls, with a minaret with a small observation deck stretching out of the top. A short wall surrounded the building, with a gatehouse at the front. A pale green moss covered much of these walls, but the Depository itself was untouched. The Depository was a jarring sight in the way that only an anomalous space defying the rules of space and time could be. A small castle within twenty meters of bookshelves and Library patrons was a strange sight. Despite this, the Librarians actively avoided it, and those patrons within sight seemed to pay it no mind, as if they hadn’t noticed it. Chao and Corwin were opening the gate as Li and the rest of the team approached. “How did this happen, anyway?” Li asked. “We don’t know. We found it abandoned but sitting right in the middle of the Library,” the Black Queen said. “I suppose we were squatting at first, but when I approached the Archivist about the building, it acted like it had no idea what I was talking about. I’ve never seen a Librarian within the walls, and no one approaches the building without being connected to the Serpent’s Hand.” Li looked up at the minaret. There was a small balcony up there, where one could overlook the surrounding area. “Does it project some kind of cognitohazardous or anti-memetic effect?” “None that I know of, though if there was I certainly might not know about it. Honestly, there are endless mysteries here in the Library. There’s a river system connecting different wards, with boats serving to transport books and supplies through the Library. Also, there’s at least two different reading rooms that I know of with windows looking out on outer space, despite the Library not having an outer space. Sometimes, things here just don’t make sense.” Li frowned. “It feels like it doesn’t belong.” “It doesn’t,” Corwin said. She stood outside the open gate with her palms outstretched, her back to the rest of the group. She closed her eyes, and began to murmur. Suddenly, a dome of rippling, shimmering air formed around the structure of the Depository. A seam burst in this dome in front of the gate, allowing for passage through. “What happens if you try to pass through without that trick?” Li asked. Corwin gave her a surly look, then marched into the courtyard. Li ushered the other agents and thaumaturgists in. On the other side of the opening, parallel to Li, the Black Queen leaned against the wall. “Give her time, she’ll warm up to this, really. Amy was on her own for a long time and then ran from your people for even longer. She was even drafted into one of your MTF teams herself for a while before I got her out again.” “Do you trust her?” Li asked. “Yes.” “Then I don’t mind.” “Alright. To answer your question, the boundary of the Depository has a memory charm on it. Anyone who isn’t invited forgets why they’re here and leaves. It’ll have to come down if Vanguard wants to make it a public outreach center.” Li’s eyes widened. “Probably, yeah!” Chao smiled at her, and Li found herself smiling back. For someone called the Black Queen, who had almost single handedly led a massive resistance campaign against the Foundation, she was easygoing and pleasant. “You’re wondering why I’m not more like Amy, aren’t you?” “Are you psychic, too?” “No, it’s just a natural question to have. The truth is, this is the best foot forward we’ve had in a long time. Vanguard is exactly what the Hand has been fighting for all along. Even if not everyone is going to see it that way.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- [[=]] The Wanderers’ Library //1 October, 2021// [[/=]] From the third level of the Library, Karl Lange leaned against a bookshelf as he watched the Foundation team enter the Depository. Next to him, Eliza Salazar crouched with a small notepad, scratching off hash marks on the paper. Closing the notebook, she stood and looked over the bannister towards the vanishing team. With a scowl, Salazar spoke. “Twelve, not including the Queen. I recognize some of them, good thaumaturgists. The others I’d guess are Jailor soldiers. Makes me sick, watching her pal around with them.” “Same here. When I was running from the Jailor’s hunters, //she// was the one who gave me a safe place with the Hand. She saved me. And now she’s a traitor.” Lange was almost growling. “What if they’re forcing her?” “That wouldn’t make sense. She’s too powerful for them to be able to do that. No, something’s changed. The jailors have never been welcome in the Library before. Somehow, some way, they’ve pulled the wool over the eyes of the magical world. But we know them better. We don’t forget. The same bastards who the Queen sides with now killed so many of my people a century ago, and [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/taboo \| flushed the rest up that goddamn chimney]]]. Doesn’t matter what they call themselves.” “What do you want to do?” Karl looked down on the building, the shimmering dome closing back around the gate. He watched as Alison Chao walked into the Depository, followed by an Asian Foundation agent. He thought of all those years running after he escaped the ##green\|other place##, until he found the Library. Accidentally taking someone’s name, watching him get carted away by the Librarians. Wandering the stacks for weeks, barely subsisting off of the scraps left behind by patrons. Not knowing what he was going to do or where he could go. He thought about when Alison Chao found him, the one from his reality. He thought about her showing him how the Library connected to myriad worlds and the work her sisters were doing with the Hand. That’s when he knew why he’d been spared. “We can’t let them get a hold of the Depository. Those books belong to the Hand, not to the Black Queen.” “Most of the Hand went to the other side, Karl.” “Then fuck them. And fuck the Queen. Those books aren’t meant for Jailor cells.” He checked the rifle slung across his back, and the ammo in his belt. “Call the others,” he ordered. She nodded and left, leaving him holding his weapon at the barrier between the new and the old. ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- [[=]] The Wanderers’ Library //1 October, 2021// [[/=]] The agents and thaumaturges immediately began packing up the books within the Depository’s library. “Library within the Library,” Li mused. “Yup, very strict lending policy though,” said Amy Corwin. Surprised, Li turned and found Amy next to her. She had a distracted look about her. “Hey.” “So, I’ve been told I need to apologize,” Amy said, almost muttering. “You don’t. Not to me anyway.” “Good. That’s what I said.” Amy nodded curtly. They were quiet for a moment, watching the others load up the books. “What did you mean about the lending policy?” Li asked, desperate to escape the awkward silence. “Oh, it was nonexistent. You take a book you’re not meant to, and you become a Thief.” “How is that different from a normal library?” “Thief with a capital T. Marked as a violator of the rules. Nobody likes a thief, the universe least of all. You’d have some kind of probabilistic cascade against your well-being, until you die in a way both convoluted and ironic, somehow. Final Destination type shit.” “Okay, as upsetting as that is, that’s a big problem. Aren’t we planning to take these books out of here?” “Sure, but Ali was the one who put the curse on them, so she can take it off… probably.” “Probably?” “She’s working on it.” ------ Alison Chao threw a book onto the table in front of her. She crossed her arms and glanced around the small study. A fireplace, reading table, and ritual circle were the only things in the room. She stepped out of the ring of silver and beryllium bronze interlaced in various Celtic knot patterns that made the ritual circle, and leaned against the stone wall. “How the hell did I do this in the first place?” She could feel the working that marked someone as a Thief, sense the edges of the ritual that created the thaumic energies in play. But try as she might, she couldn’t find the right thread to pull to disassemble it. “Maybe it’s a macro problem. I could look at the collection as a whol–” A dull, tolling bell began to ring outside, loud enough to shake her from the reverie. //“ATTENTION. ATTENTION. THIS IS THE EIGHTH ARCHIVIST OF THE WANDERERS’ LIBRARY.”// ------ Li put a hand on her holstered sidearm. “What the hell was that?” Amy ran to a high window, perching on a stool to look out onto the courtyard. “Shit!” //“I HAVE DETECTED HOSTILE ACTORS PRESENTLY IN THE AREA OF THE HAND’S DEPOSITORY.”// “What the fuck is happening?” Li asked. Amy slammed a bar across the bastion’s main door, went to a bookshelf, slid it away from the wall and grabbed a pump action shotgun hidden behind it. “We’re being attacked.” ------ “We’ve been made!” Eliza cried as she quickly dropped behind a low wall surrounding a storage area in the courtyard. Karl looked up towards the distant Library ceiling. The booming voice came again, echoing off the stone ramparts of the small bastion in front of them. //“AS THE PERPETRATORS OF THIS INTENDED VIOLENCE, AND THE TARGET OF THEIR IRE, ARE BOTH SERPENT’S HAND MEMBERS, I HAVE MADE A DECISION. VIOLENCE IS PROHIBITED WITHIN THE BOUNDS OF THE LIBRARY, SO THE CONFLICT WILL NOT TAKE PLACE WITHIN OUR HALLS.”// A pressure began to build over the surrounding area, pressing Karl into the earth of the courtyard. A high-pitched whine steadily rose, causing a sharp pain in his ears. He turned and looked towards Eliza, saw her clutching the right side of her head. He reached out for the other five members of his crew, also down on their knees in the dirt, and saw blood trickle from Iphigenia’s ears. And then the pressure released its grip on Karl’s head, followed by a sudden flood of light. He shielded his eyes as he looked up, and saw an overcast orange sky above them. Eliza followed his eyes skyward and stared. “What the fuck is going on?” //“YOU CAN COME BACK IN WHEN YOU’VE SETTLED YOUR DIFFERENCES. ONE WAY OR THE OTHER.”// A loud gunshot rang out, and a puff of dirt lifted into the air a few paces from Karl’s position. He looked up and saw a shotgun sticking out of an arrow slit. “Pull back! Through the gate!” Eliza dragged him to his feet and hauled him out of the courtyard, followed by the five other members of Jacob's Rise. The seven of them represented the only members of the team that were left after one too many dangerous ops. Eliza didn’t want to lose any more of them, Karl assumed. He didn’t either. Karl collapsed against the outer wall surrounding the courtyard, on the far side of the gate. Out of the line of fire he looked out towards the horizon. To his left, as far as he could see, there was nothing but gray sand and large obsidian towers; to his right a verdant green sea gently slapped against the shore. Sand, water, and stone. And a perpetually overcast orange sky. “Where the hell are we?” Karl asked. Eliza shrugged. The shotgun fired, snapping him out of his reverie. “Hey Lange, I fucking see you!” Amy Corwin yelled from inside the Depository. Crouched against the stone wall, Eliza met his eyes. “Well, this is going great.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- [[=]] Another Place //1 October, 2021// [[/=]] Li grabbed Corwin and yanked her away from the arrow slit. “You’re asking to get shot hanging your entire ass out there.” “Son of a bitch. I know that asshole.” Corwin worked the action on the shotgun, ejecting a case and racking a new round. “Who are they?” “An edgy dick who calls himself Karl Lange. Idiots who follow him are called Jacob’s Rise. They’re a splinter cell of the Hand. They like to do raids on Bookburner sites and Jailor… Foundation trucks.” “Who’s Jacob?” “Hard to say, his lover? Mentor? Father figure? Never was clear to me. He died a while back on a mission.” “Wait, I thought you were all in different cells.” “Sure, technically, but when Alison called most of us dropped what we were doing to listen. Lange is a hardliner. We hadn’t heard boo from his group since the announcement.” “So what – is this a hit?” “Maybe. He’s got that zealous vibe, you know? Real edgelord BS. Only good jailor is a dead jailor, that sorta shit.” “//Terrific//. Where’s Chao?” Corwin looked back towards the stairs leading up to the upper levels. Then she panned around the bookshelf laden walls, catching the eyes of a half dozen archivists and mages crouching down covering their heads. “Becca, get over here.” A red haired black woman crawled over. “Shouldn’t you be ducking too?” Amy looked out the window towards the courtyard. Nothing was moving out there except the waves of a weird green ocean. “They’ll take a minute. Okay, we need to batten this place down. Get our people up and over to the windows. They’ve all got wooden storm shutters, open up the glass and get those shutters clamped down.” She turned back to Li and pointed at the sidearm in its holster. “Have you ever fired that thing?” “Of course.” “What about your people? Can we count on them in a fight?” “No. They’re archivists. I’m the only field agent.” “Shit. Okay.” She turned back to the stairs. “Becca, on second thought, get one of our people up those stairs and find out where her royal self is. While you’re at it, take a look out the observation deck. The big bug did something and I’m guessing we’re not in Kansas anymore. Find out what’s going on.” “While they’re doing that, what are we doing?” Li asked. “First watch, hot stuff.” She pointed to the portal in the main door and walked back to the window, this time taking cover behind the wall as she kept her eyes on the courtyard. “You watch that side of the building through the view port in the door, and I’ll watch this one. There’s only the one gate, but the wall ain’t that tall, so we’ll need to watch for them climbing over.” “Agent Li,” hissed one of the archivists. “What’s happening?” “We’re being attacked. Keep away from the windows. Retreat to one of the inner rooms when you can. I don’t suppose any of you know how to use a firearm?” The archivists all shook their heads. “Okay. Then get down and stay out of the way.” She looked out the view port – a miniature trapdoor within the wooden door one could open – towards the courtyard and at the open gate. The distance was only fifteen meters from the wall to the Depository’s entrance. She could just see the outline of someone crouching through the gate, and for a brief moment their eyes met. He had a shaved head, five-o-clock shadow, and piercing green eyes. Then he backed out of sight. Li looked over toward Amy. “How many were there?” “Six, I think. Armed to the teeth from what I saw.” “Terrific. The one with the green eyes, is that Lange?” “Yeah. He’s a ##green\|vanished one##, or at least that’s what I heard.” “Openly? Usually, they try to hide their nature.” Amy shrugged. “It’s what I heard.” She looked up the stairs. “Where the hell is she?” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- Alison looked out from the tower into the surrounding vista. Pink dusty plains all the way to the horizon in one direction and emerald waters in the other. There was no sign of life besides scrub bushes and yellow moss on the obsidian formations dotting the sandy plain. Everything was eerily quiet; even the sea lapping against the gray shore was muted somehow. She could breathe without difficulty, so this was an Earth-like reality, but she was sure it wasn’t anywhere close to home. Alison shuddered thinking of the power necessary to shift a building full of people into another reality. The Archivist was often conciliatory but always terrifying. Alison turned her attention to the wall, where the fleeing Rise agents had taken shelter. She could just make out their movements by listening to the crunch of sand beneath gauche combat boots. Alison rolled her eyes. Karl had always been so militant. She lent some will to her voice and called out to them. ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- “You three, circle around and make sure no one is climbing over the back wall,” Karl said. Two men and a woman armed with AK-47 rifles nodded and began slowly walking around the wall, keeping close to it to maintain cover. Eliza sidled up next to him and crouched so they were eye to eye. “What exactly is the plan here, Karl?” “The plan was to take them by surprise and force them out of the building.” “Then what?” “Make sure they couldn’t find it again. The books in there contain secrets that could threaten the Library itself. We can’t risk them falling into Jailor hands” “Okay, but that plan isn’t going to work anymore. What do we do now??” “I’m working on it, we need to get insi–” __//KARL LANGE. LET’S TALK.//__ Eliza and Karl shuddered and clamped their hands over their ears. “Jesus Christ!” Eliza yelled. //Sorry about that, I was a little too eager. Haven’t done this in a while. How’s this?// Eliza and Karl shared a look, but didn’t respond. //Karl, can you hear me?// “Yes.” //What are you hoping to accomplish with this stunt?// “I won’t let you take the books, Alison. They can’t have them.” //Them, who?// “The Jailors, don’t play dumb.” //There is no Foundation anymore, Karl.// “Same people, different name. Trust me, I know the process. Still a Jailor.” //Vanguard’s objectives are the literal opposite of the Foundation. The Jailors are no more.// “Yeah, bullshit. You can’t give them the books, Alison. I won’t allow it.” //You’ve always been too eager for violence, Karl. It’s why my sister passed you along to me. But the Hand wasn’t just about fighting the Foundation.// “You don’t get to say what the Hand was. It’s whatever we want it to be.” //You aren’t the Hand, Karl. Or did you forget? We kicked you out.// “You kicked us out. After Jacob died, you left us in the dark. And you know what? We were fine without you.” //Can we talk this out?// “Why don’t you shut up, traitor?” The disembodied voice sighed. //We’ll talk later.// Eliza pulled up her carbine and stood up. “Fuck this.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- “What the hell are you doing?” Amy yelled up the stairwell. Alison Chao appeared at the top of the stairs and started descending. “Opening a dialogue.” “Uh huh. Couldn’t hear their side of things, but let me guess…” “No, it didn’t go well.” “You had to try,” Li said. “Thank you, Agent Li.” Alison smiled subtly. Amy snorted. She looked out the window again, training her eyes on the small gate. “What’s our situation?” Chao asked. “Amy and I are armed. Possibly some of your other people.” “Not in the traditional sense,” Amy shook her head. “How many will be of use in a fight?” Li asked. “A few, maybe enough. We didn’t prepare for a war. This was meant to be a simple job.” Chao chanced a look through the window, then retreated. “They have at least a half dozen, maybe more.” “Simple fucking job. Pick up some books, go home.” Amy kicked the ground. “Amy.” Alison sighed. “Yeah yeah, I counted six when they ran for the wall.” “So you, and I, Becca and Georges. Otherwise?” Chao put her finger to her chin in thought. “Archivists. Academics,” Li said. Chao nodded. “Oh, that reminds me. Becca!” Amy yelled over her shoulder. “Yeah boss?” It was Chao’s turn to snort. Amy winked at the Black Queen. “What’s going on around the back?” “Three of their number circled around. They’re staying back there, probably to stop us from climbing over the wall and making a run for it,” Becca said. “There’s nowhere to run to,” Chao said. Li turned away from her vantage on the courtyard, and looked at her with the face of a woman desperate to pretend she was not out of her depth. “We’re somewhere else now. The Eighth Archivist took the entire building and threw us sideways into another reality.” “Wait, then where are we?” Li asked almost hopefully. “Orange skies, gray sand, green oceans. Definitely not Earth.” “Well, shit. So, what do we do?” “Well, I think we shou–” “No time for that!” Amy interrupted. “Here they come.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- Lange led the group with his AK-47 up and firing. Eliza followed, shooting slower and more precisely than her leader. The remaining Jacob’s Rise mage stayed behind the wall, speaking hurriedly, intoning ancient Babylonian and gesticulating with frantic motions. Blood dripped down his arms from slices cut into his palms. This blood began to flow into the air and above the Depository’s structure, spreading outward into a fine mist. Clouds grew in the sky, followed by a crash of thunder and a quickly intensifying drizzle. One of Eliza’s rounds smashed into the door of the Depository, through the small porthole Li was aiming her own weapon through. The bullet struck her in the upper arm and she spun back, blood scattering across the stone floor. Chao cried out and crouched to shelter Li from further barrage. The Black Queen began to mutter to herself while clamping a hand over the wound, a faint red light seeping from between her fingers. The first cracks of lightning split the darkening sky, and a thick red mist drew through the open gate, hiding Lange and his lieutenant from sight. Amy fired the shotgun into the mist twice, then cursed. Amy stepped away from the open window, stretched out her arms, and placed her palms against the frame. She felt the moisture in the air, the crackle of electricity threatening to strike down the Depository. The Witness reached for the water vapor in the air, exchanged one state for another, and condensed it into a thin sheet of ice that coated the stones of the courtyard. The fog cleared just in time for Amy to see Lange lose his footing and land hard on his ass. Amy laughed. Eliza, who had had the soles of her feet frozen to the ground, took advantage of this opportunity to fire a shot at Amy’s direction. Just as suddenly as the ice had formed, it was gone. A thin mist flooded the courtyard once more, clouding Eliza’s sightline. She carefully walked over the slippery wet stones and pulled Lange to his feet. Right as she was about to ask him if he was okay, lightning finally decided to strike the Depository. Only five meters from the pillar of light and sound, Eliza and Lange were thrown back onto the ground. They slid across the stones until they were nearly back where they had started, at the gate to the courtyard. Shaking the pain out of his head, Lange slowly rose to his feet. As he put pressure on his right leg, he groaned. One of his knees had twisted when lightning struck. As the mist cleared, Lange looked over what they had accomplished. He found the only difference seemed to be that the cobblestones were now wet. “Goddamn it.” “Did you really think you’d force your way in here, Karl?” Alison called from inside the building. The storm broke completely. Lange turned and saw his subordinate on his knees, exhausted from the conjuring. Winking at Karl, Corwin held her shotgun pointed directly at the mage. Lange turned and retreated out the gate, followed by Eliza. Both their guns began to glow red and turn painfully hot, forcing the two to drop them. Lange turned back to the Depository with a snarl, and saw a Hand thaumaturge standing on the observation deck holding out a staff. She finished the incantation and the guns melted. Lange gritted his teeth and kicked the pile of scrap out of his way, closing the gateway behind Eliza. ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- “I could have taken his head, Ally.” Amy said, pouting. “I said no. No killing, Amy. Not if we can help it. These people are not our enemies. We can’t solve this through violence, that’s why Becca smote their weapons and not their bodies.” Alison helped Li to a sitting position, taking her hand from the wound. The skin was red, irritated, and her arm and torso were stained with blood, but the bullet wound was gone. “And you, Agent Li? How do you feel?” “Uh… it hurts a bit, and I’m a little shaken, but okay given the alternative.” Li rubbed at the muscles in her upper arm – remembering the feeling of the bullet ripping through her just a minute ago. “How did you do that?” “It’s a minor mending. You’re lucky the wound wasn’t worse, or it might not have worked.” “What’s happening out there?” Li slowly stood up, still gently probing where the bullet wound had been. Alison risked a glance through the porthole in the door. “They’ve retreated for the moment. Even if they weren’t disheartened over how badly that went, the loss of their guns will give them pause. Speaking of disarming, Becca, come down here!” Becca came halfway down the stairs. “What’s up, boss?” Alison gave a quick look and a wry smile at Amy, then turned back to the mage on the stairwell. “From the observation deck, can you see the other four?” Becca nodded. “Good. Do the same trick on them. No more guns.” Becca saluted and rushed back up the stairs. “So, what’s the plan now, //my queen//?” Amy asked with a curtsey. “Oh, fuck off.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- Eliza sighed and sat down next to Lange. “That went well.” Lange narrowed his eyes and grumbled. “What’s the plan now?” she asked. “I’m thinking.” “Well, they burnt our guns, and we can probably assume they did it to our other agents too, so that limits our options.” She cocked her head in the mage’s direction. He was gasping for breath with his head between his knees. “And Ezekiel looks like he’s out for the count.” “There’s probably not much water here, we don’t know what that sea is made of. So the conjuring probably took a lot,” Lange said. “Great, I get it. Not my point.” “Well, I don’t fucking know, Eliza! What do you want me to do?” “Maybe we could just… talk to her.” //About time one of you had a smart idea.// “Jesus Christ, Chao.” //Sorry, it’s rude to eavesdrop. But then, you did just shoot my friend, so I’m not horribly bothered. You’re ready to talk?// Lange grit his teeth and growled affirmatively. //Excellent! Karl, you and Eliza come back into the courtyard. I’ll be there, and we’ll chat it out. Sound like a plan?// “Whatever.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- “You are not going out there!” Amy yelled. “I have to say, ma’am, I think it’s a terrible idea,” Li chimed in. “Duly noted.” Chao opened the door to the Depository and walked into the courtyard. Across from her, Eliza and Lange entered from the opposing gate. Lange had a pronounced limp, and was leaning on Eliza for support. The two stopped just inside the gate, leaving nearly ten meters between them. “So, Jacob’s Rise. That’s what you call your merry band, right?” “That’s right,” Eliza said. “Why?” “You know why, Chao.” “Humor me.” “To honor his memory,” Lange groaned as he spoke. “Right. His memory. What did he stand for, in your opinion?” “Don’t do this.” “Come on, let’s play this out. You knew him well, if I remember right. What did Jacob Kaufman stand for?” “Justice. For ##green\|my people##. Especially against the Foundation and their pogroms. Not to mention reinforcing the original genocide with their containment. He stood for fighting against oppression.” “How did he feel about burning books?” “Fuck off.” “What?” “You’re calling me a fascist. Stop it.” “I’m not calling you a fascist, but I’m not the one who launched a raid on a library.” “Like we haven’t done worse in the name of our mission. Come on, Chao, we used to fight the Jailors together. How could you give our secrets to them like this?” “Karl, we fought together to stop the Jailors from oppressing others. You fought here today out of obsession.” “Obsession?” “Obsession. Jacob was a good soldier, but he understood that there was more than one way to fight our war. For every time he took arms against the Jailors, he used strategy, diplomacy, and espionage. You bluntly tried to use lightning to burn down my Depository, and you couldn’t even get that right.” “You know, Chao, I used to idolize you. I was barely an adult, running around, and here was this magical woman who stood against the people who murdered my family. After I found out who your parents were, I still trusted you, because I really believed you were beyond them. You had to be, to do all you had done, right? But now I see you as you are. One breath of an excuse, and you go running back to your father, huh?” Karl smirked and showed his teeth. Alison stared intensely at Karl and Eliza for a few moments. She took a few deep breaths, and rubbed the tips of her fingers together. Then, she smiled and chuckled softly. “Are you seriously trying to martyr yourself?” she asked. “Fuck you! Those books weren’t yours to give anyways!” “Yes, they are. I collected them, I stored them here, I put the charm on them to protect them. These are my books.” “What?” “I held the Depository open as a resource for members of the Hand, but I put every book into that building. Every single one. And you tried to burn it down.” “That’s not what I wanted.” “Then what the hell was your end goal?” “We have to keep those books away from the Jailors at all costs. I would rather see them burn than see the secrets in them used against us. If there was any other way… it disgusts me to say this, but it was the only choice.” “That’s Jailor thinking, Karl. Dangerous road to walk down.” “Said the Jailor.” “I’m not a Jailor, Karl. The Foundation is gone.” Eliza cleared her throat and spoke up. “Ms. Chao, if I can interrupt here?” The Black Queen nodded. “I don’t believe you, if I’m being honest. You say the Jailors are gone, but they’re not really. The same people are in charge at… whatever you call it now. Just because they changed their name doesn’t make them not Jailors. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to just take you at your word for it.” “Eliza, what was the Jailors’ greatest sin?” “Containment? Seeing the beauty of the world around them and trying to keep it in a box. That’s how the old writing goes, right?” “Exactly. Now, I am someone high up in the hierarchy of Vanguard. I can assure you, Vanguard’s mission is the opposite of containment. It’s normalization, to educate people about magic and protect the innocent. It’s everything the Hand stood for.” “I’d love to believe you, but all we have to go on is your word,” Lange said, “You’re going to have to go a long way to prove that they’ve really changed.” “[[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-dan-goes-to-washington \| The Veil came down four days ago]]], by Vanguard’s hand.” There was a long silence. Karl and Eliza gave each other a surprised glance, then looked back at the Black Queen. “You’re fucking with me,” Eliza said. “Nope. The news hasn’t reached you yet?” Lange stayed silent. “Vanguard is everything the Hand has been working to create. We have a real opportunity here, I don’t want to waste it for a blood feud.” Chao nodded at the two agents. Lange shook his head. “Nope. Still doesn’t work for me.” “Why not?” Eliza asked him. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that I believe you. That I believe that thousands of people can completely change heart and turn good. Why then, would I not believe that that same group of people’s hearts could change again, and turn out worse than they had before?” “I can’t really think of a reason why—” “The Foundation slaughtered my family, Chao. I stopped asking why they do anything long ago.” “...fair enough. Well, one of the big reasons is that it won’t be the same people in charge anymore. The O5s are retiring.” “No.” “Yes.” “No, they aren't. The Foundation is how the O5s rule the world, they aren’t just going to turn it into a force for good out of the blue.” “I don’t know what to tell you, Karl. It surprised me too. There was a vote, it was close, but they decided they’d rather live with us than without us. The ones that voted against this path disappeared, probably to work on their own schemes. The others decided to retire. If you’d answered the call as so many other Hand members did, you’d have seen the proof for yourself.” Karl closed his eyes and grabbed at his knee, wincing. “The Foundation isn’t in charge at Vanguard. If it was, I wouldn’t be a part of it,” Chao said. “I still don’t trust it. There’s got to be something rotten left behind. You still have scores of Jailor scientists and soldiers; we can’t risk them getting their hands on these books.” A cough from behind the Black Queen made them all turn. Li Fong Yue stepped from the Depository door, pistol holstered at her hip, and hands extended palm out above her head. Alison groaned internally. The Vanguard uniform she wore was an obviously repurposed set of Foundation tactical gear. If there was anything to set Jacob’s Rise off, it would be seeing her. “Maybe there’s a compromise?” Li suggested. “Fuck off and die, Jailor,” Eliza said. Lange spat. “No, look. I understand your reservations about Vanguard. It’s in its infancy, nobody really knows what the final organization will look like. But there’s got to be a way.” “What did you have in mind, Li?” Alison asked. “Well, this guy here,” Li pointed at Karl, “Seems uncomfortable with the idea of us bringing it to one of our sites. But we’re planning to open an information center, everyone will be welcome to visit anyways. Why not instead set up a shop here?” The Black Queen looked down at the gray sand beneath her feet, pondering. “I think I see what you mean. So, we’re most interested in making these books available for up-and-coming thaumaturges, working with Vanguard. We never had any intention of hiding them away. Additionally, we want to make an open visitors’ center here, a lighthouse if you will, to show people the new way the organization is operating. An embassy, basically.” “Get to the point. What are you proposing?” Lange asked. “We leave the books where they are. Make them available to any Hand Member who wants to see them, as they were before. But we make the Depository the new embassy. It can be a library within the Library, as it always has been, but we’ll still use the building as a place to hold presentations and classes. It’ll even work better this way. And the good part about this is, if Vanguard ever turns into the Jailors again, everyone who would use the books for harm will find themselves barred from the Library anyways, ensuring they are kept safe.” Lange turned and walked back to the gate, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll talk about it.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- “That was stupid,” Amy said. “No, it wasn’t. It was diplomacy. We can’t solve the first intra-organizational problem with violence, that’s not what Vanguard is supposed to be about.” “Sure would be a lot easier to do it that way, though.” “The Queen is right. We need to lead with the carrot and not the stick,” Li said. “Exactly,” Alison said, “In the coming months, we’re going to have to lean on the anomalous community. And if the first public action was to kill anyone who disagrees with us, I think doors that would have been open to Vanguard would slam shut. We’ve got to distance ourselves from the Foundation, and not just in words.” “I still think I should shoot him in his good leg.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- “What exactly is the goal here?” Eliza asked. “What do you mean?” Lange sat against the wall, taking the pressure off of his leg. “What is the goal? Are we trying to kill Chao for ‘betraying the cause’? Are we trying to steal those books back, or destroy them? Are we just angry and want to make our voices heard?” “Eliza, I would never have killed Alison.” “Then what the hell are we doing! We launched an attack without even asking her why she turned. This compromise gives us everything we want, except for blood. Now, is blood the goal?” Lange looked out over the green waves. He sighed. “No. Blood was never the goal. I’ve just been… angry. It goes against everything I thought I knew, seeing her prance around with the Jailors that she saved me from.” “I don’t know if she is, Karl.” He sighed again. “Fine. Let’s go be adults.” ----- [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/grigori-karpin-s-author-page/vanguard%20transparent.png width="100px" height="100px"]] ----- As Lange shook Alison’s hand, the Depository was back in the Wanderers’ Library. Li felt a wave of nausea pass over her, but there was much less spectacle than their first journey. //“THIS IS THE EIGHTH ARCHIVIST OF THE WANDERERS’ LIBRARY. WELCOME BACK TO THE STACKS. THAT WASN’T SO HARD, WAS IT? NOW, BEHAVE.”// Amy flipped the distant ceiling off. //“I SAW THAT, MS. CORWIN.”// “Good.” Lange stepped back from Chao. “So, we’re agreed. The Depository will be a resource for anyone who needs it?” “Including the Vanguard. But we won’t take a single book out of the building. Probably add more.” “Fine.” There was bile to Lange’s words, but he seemed determined to follow them. Lange turned away and started walking out of the courtyard. Eliza followed him with the rest of Jacob's Rise, taking a moment to look back at the Vanguard agents. “You could at least apologize, assholes!” Amy called after them. Chao turned to Li. “Let’s gather everyone up, finish cataloging the archive and get back to Moose. We’ll need to make some changes around here if it’ll be a library and a… what was the word we’re using for an embassy?” “Lighthouse,” Li said. “That’s the one,” Chao smiled. Li nodded and went back inside. Amy sidled up next to Chao. “You sure you wanna do it this way?” Amy asked. “No choice, this is the best option we have.” “No choice? We could have taken them.” “No, I mean we had //no choice.// I couldn’t risk taking the books out of here.” Amy met her eyes for a moment and then smiled. “You don’t know how to remove the curse, do you?” Chao shrugged. “Not a clue.” [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ ----- [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Grigori Karpin & LizardWizard]] > 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]]] > Additional Notes: Used with their express permission. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-07T14:57:00	[ "action", "black-queen", "co-authored", "no-return", "otherworldly", "serpents-hand", "tale" ]	War in the Library - SCP Foundation	80	[ "no-return-hub", "grigori-karpin-s-author-page", "lizardwizard-author-page", "fragment:scp-6500-17", "black-queen-hub", "of-an-endless-hunt", "taboo", "dr-dan-goes-to-washington", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "serpent-s-hand-hub", "no-return-hub", "black-queen-hub" ]	[]	1449298844	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/war-in-the-library
we-all-fall-down	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p style="text-align: center;">None knew the year anymore. It was deemed unimportant.</p> <p>The Pestilence was wrought upon the world. Nothing mattered more than banishing this horrid plague from the accursed planet.</p> <p>The sickness spread across the globe, imprisoning people to their own houses. None could enjoy what was left of the world without catching the sickening virus responsible for its wrecking.</p> <p>Many have stood cloaked in black robe, donning the resemblance of a white crow; They pledged to protect the dying world from its cruel killer. But none lived up to this pledge. It was seen as an undeniable truth that none shall stand up to the planet’s murderer. None would ever see the Pestilence on the receiving end of death.</p> <p>But there was one man. And this man was no exception.</p> <p>He did not make an unfulfillable promise to fully vanquish the plague from the sickened world. He did, however, find a cure.</p> <p>But this cure had a cost.</p> <p>The man had possession over remedies and medicines of unparalleled quality. Medicines that could cure terminal illnes. Remedies to cure cancerous infections.</p> <p>But the treatment had a side effect. It left its patients clinically deceased. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3866">Deceased for three millennia, but unable to truly perish or age for such time</a>.</p> <p>The truly remarkable remedy originated from <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dado-hub">another doctor</a>, long since taken by the very thing he swore to destroy. He would be remembered by the doctor, even after the fallen warrior had been forgotten to the rest of the world’s populace.</p> <p>The rest of the country shamed the unfortunate doctor. They saw the costs of his cure as an unforgivable crime rather than a miracle. They did not see the cure, they saw a monstrosity of more danger than the plague.</p> <p>The doctor could not show his face. He feared punishment by the apocalypse of angered men who wish him great harm.</p> <p>Until one day, he donned his robe and mask, and boarded a train, three minutes before midnight. He intended to bring his cure to France, a country which has not yet heard of the tragedy of the unfortunate plague doctor.</p> <p>When he left the train, the doctor bore witness to a pure country, one which did not yet seem to bear signs of the Pestilence. He swore to protect it almost the exact moment he laid eyes on it, for it was far more beautiful than what he has seen for decades past.</p> <p>And yet, as weeks passed and quickly became months, which in turn faded into years, he began to see common symptoms of the plague in the residents of the beautified land. The Pestilence was upon it, and the Doctor was distraught.</p> <p>But he did not mourn for the inevitable fate of the until then untouched domain. He could not simply allow it to die. So he immediately took in all those whom he saw the pestilence inside.</p> <p>But soon doubt found its way here as well. The doctor was soon found and imprisoned. His captors did not see what he has seen, and did not seem to believe in the existence of such a disease as the Pestilence.</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:1em;"><strong>[NOTE: THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED LEVEL 4/052-7.]</strong></span></p> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Passenger <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-052">052</a>-7:</strong> ██████████ █████. Determined to have entered the train from an unknown year in the future,<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> but does not appear to be cognizant of this fact. Despite likely originating from the future, the subject is wearing a uniform consistent with that of plague doctors commonly associated with the Black Death, a plague prominent in the 14th century. Subject claims it intends to eradicate an infection it refers to as “The Pestilence” and believes to have traveled from America to France, despite having traveled in time via SCP-052. Despite this, the subject has a strong French accent and can speak fluent French. Subject refuses to remove its suit, claiming that he had been actively pursued prior to boarding SCP-052. Subject has exhibited several anomalous properties and has since been classified as SCP-049. Its origination from SCP-052 has been covered up. The falsified documentation can be found <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-049">here</a>.</p> </blockquote> <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>. Subject claims to originate from a time period following the abandonment of the Gregorian Calendar system.</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="/we-all-fall-down">We All Fall Down</a>" by theUnfunnyOne, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/we-all-fall-down">https://scpwiki.com/we-all-fall-down</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]] [[/=]] = None knew the year anymore. It was deemed unimportant. The Pestilence was wrought upon the world. Nothing mattered more than banishing this horrid plague from the accursed planet. The sickness spread across the globe, imprisoning people to their own houses. None could enjoy what was left of the world without catching the sickening virus responsible for its wrecking. Many have stood cloaked in black robe, donning the resemblance of a white crow; They pledged to protect the dying world from its cruel killer. But none lived up to this pledge. It was seen as an undeniable truth that none shall stand up to the planet’s murderer. None would ever see the Pestilence on the receiving end of death. But there was one man. And this man was no exception. He did not make an unfulfillable promise to fully vanquish the plague from the sickened world. He did, however, find a cure. But this cure had a cost. The man had possession over remedies and medicines of unparalleled quality. Medicines that could cure terminal illnes. Remedies to cure cancerous infections. But the treatment had a side effect. It left its patients clinically deceased. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3866 Deceased for three millennia, but unable to truly perish or age for such time]. The truly remarkable remedy originated from [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dado-hub another doctor], long since taken by the very thing he swore to destroy. He would be remembered by the doctor, even after the fallen warrior had been forgotten to the rest of the world’s populace. The rest of the country shamed the unfortunate doctor. They saw the costs of his cure as an unforgivable crime rather than a miracle. They did not see the cure, they saw a monstrosity of more danger than the plague. The doctor could not show his face. He feared punishment by the apocalypse of angered men who wish him great harm. Until one day, he donned his robe and mask, and boarded a train, three minutes before midnight. He intended to bring his cure to France, a country which has not yet heard of the tragedy of the unfortunate plague doctor. When he left the train, the doctor bore witness to a pure country, one which did not yet seem to bear signs of the Pestilence. He swore to protect it almost the exact moment he laid eyes on it, for it was far more beautiful than what he has seen for decades past. And yet, as weeks passed and quickly became months, which in turn faded into years, he began to see common symptoms of the plague in the residents of the beautified land. The Pestilence was upon it, and the Doctor was distraught. But he did not mourn for the inevitable fate of the until then untouched domain. He could not simply allow it to die. So he immediately took in all those whom he saw the pestilence inside. But soon doubt found its way here as well. The doctor was soon found and imprisoned. His captors did not see what he has seen, and did not seem to believe in the existence of such a disease as the Pestilence. ------ = [[size 1em]][NOTE: THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED LEVEL 4/052-7.][[/size]] ------ > Passenger [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-052 052]-7: ██████████ █████. Determined to have entered the train from an unknown year in the future,[[footnote]] Subject claims to originate from a time period following the abandonment of the Gregorian Calendar system. [[/footnote]] but does not appear to be cognizant of this fact. Despite likely originating from the future, the subject is wearing a uniform consistent with that of plague doctors commonly associated with the Black Death, a plague prominent in the 14th century. Subject claims it intends to eradicate an infection it refers to as “The Pestilence” and believes to have traveled from America to France, despite having traveled in time via SCP-052. Despite this, the subject has a strong French accent and can speak fluent French. Subject refuses to remove its suit, claiming that he had been actively pursued prior to boarding SCP-052. Subject has exhibited several anomalous properties and has since been classified as SCP-049. Its origination from SCP-052 has been covered up. The falsified documentation can be found [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-049 here]. [[footnoteblock]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=theUnfunnyOne]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-07-05T21:34:00	[ "_licensebox", "dado", "plague-doctor", "tale" ]	We All Fall Down - SCP Foundation	4	[ "scp-3866", "dado-hub", "scp-052", "scp-049", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-4-tales-edition", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1448856147	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-all-fall-down
we-are-all-but-fish	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Ascendency is no small feat.</p> <p>Apotheosis is a near impossibility for the normal human.</p> <p>And yet I swear by my flesh I found godhood.</p> <p>I became more than the self.</p> <p>My ego folded in on itself a thousand times and a thousand more.</p> <p>Flesh became a falsehood.</p> <p>Stone became a falsehood.</p> <p>The very fabric of space and time was insignificant.</p> <p>I finally had found truth.</p> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Pure truth.</span></p> <p>Information flowed through every little particle and every piece of matter. Representations of states, of concepts, of true being.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6747">The True Narrative</a> splayed itself across my mind and all things. Everything, interconnected, intersected, interacting.</p> <p>I knew what fulfillment was. I knew what glory was. I knew what beauty was.</p> <p>And then I saw the door. The door away from physicality. Away from functionality. Away from flesh.</p> <p>It brought me into the world of ideas and forms. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6699">Trueness.</a></p> <p>I came through, I felt warmth.</p> <p><em>The door promised lies.</em></p> <p>It was horror.</p> <p>I saw everything, everywhere, everyhow, everywhat, <strong>everywhy</strong>.</p> <p>I was lesser again.</p> <p>I was dust.</p> <p>And then the other gods came.</p> <p>Grand.</p> <p>Complex.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6659">Uncompromising.</a></p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/church-of-the-broken-god-hub">Sisters.</a> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub">Twins.</a> They condemned my very form and being. Both in unison and in opposition.</p> <p>A <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/cotsk-hub">king dressed in red</a> cut me down and drank my blood.</p> <p>A <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3125">foreign, fathomless five-finned fish</a> ripped my mind apart.</p> <p>A <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2747">queen crowned by thorns</a> smothered me away from all.</p> <p>I heard a dark howling ring throughout my body and then I knew what nothingness was.</p> <p>And when all was done, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-the-fire-die">I found a note</a>. A kind note. A comforting note.</p> <p>And I was sent back to flesh once more.</p> <hr/> <p>I write this as a warning. A warning for all that we are all but fish.</p> <p>Fish in a vast ocean.</p> <p>Fish in the sunlight.</p> <p>Do not sink.</p> <p>Do not dive.</p> <p>Terror awaits there.</p> <p>One must accept:</p> <p>The flesh is more kind than the mind.</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="/we-are-all-but-fish">We are all but fish</a>" by yewse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/we-are-all-but-fish">https://scpwiki.com/we-are-all-but-fish</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]] [[/>]] Ascendency is no small feat. Apotheosis is a near impossibility for the normal human. And yet I swear by my flesh I found godhood. I became more than the self. My ego folded in on itself a thousand times and a thousand more. Flesh became a falsehood. Stone became a falsehood. The very fabric of space and time was insignificant. I finally had found truth. __Pure truth.__ Information flowed through every little particle and every piece of matter. Representations of states, of concepts, of true being. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6747\|The True Narrative]]] splayed itself across my mind and all things. Everything, interconnected, intersected, interacting. I knew what fulfillment was. I knew what glory was. I knew what beauty was. And then I saw the door. The door away from physicality. Away from functionality. Away from flesh. It brought me into the world of ideas and forms. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6699\|Trueness.]]] I came through, I felt warmth. //The door promised lies.// It was horror. I saw everything, everywhere, everyhow, everywhat, everywhy. I was lesser again. I was dust. And then the other gods came. Grand. Complex. [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6659\|Uncompromising.]]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/church-of-the-broken-god-hub\|Sisters.]]] [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/sarkicism-hub\|Twins.]]] They condemned my very form and being. Both in unison and in opposition. A [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/cotsk-hub\|king dressed in red]]] cut me down and drank my blood. A [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3125\|foreign, fathomless five-finned fish]]] ripped my mind apart. A [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2747\|queen crowned by thorns]]] smothered me away from all. I heard a dark howling ring throughout my body and then I knew what nothingness was. And when all was done, [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/don-t-let-the-fire-die\|I found a note]]]. A kind note. A comforting note. And I was sent back to flesh once more. ------ I write this as a warning. A warning for all that we are all but fish. Fish in a vast ocean. Fish in the sunlight. Do not sink. Do not dive. Terror awaits there. One must accept: The flesh is more kind than the mind. [[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>]]	2023-01-03T06:42:00	[ "_licensebox", "coldpostcon", "tale" ]	We are all but fish - SCP Foundation	25	[ "scp-6747", "scp-6699", "scp-6659", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub", "sarkicism-hub", "cotsk-hub", "scp-3125", "scp-2747", "don-t-let-the-fire-die", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "coldpostcon" ]	[]	1445379071	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-are-all-but-fish
we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we	<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 horror, eating disorders, fatphobia, misogyny, brainwashing, abuse</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="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="light"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Perfectly Planned Out Planner</span></h1> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <hr/> <p>Hello y'all! This is a picture of my cute little desk! Oh yeah! There I’ve got my journal, then some cute decorations and some nice jewels laid out! ! I just wanted to show this to you. Why is it relevant? Because we're going to be talking about planners!</p> <p>Now setting up planners is serious business. Because as a girl, we have a lot of plans! :P We have to get ready with our clothes and hair and make-up in the morning, we have to be absolutely perfect for our boyfriends and husbands- don't want to disappoint our man! We have long days with the girlfriends, going on shopping days, etc. So much to do!</p> <p>Now there’s a lot of things that you can put in planners, like daily task lists, bullet journaling, goals, notes, etc! What we’re focusing on today is a daily task list! What is that? A planner task list is where you plan out your day, of course! You can plan out more than one at a time, or do it at the start of each day! I prefer to do one at the start of each day! Now once you make this, make sure to follow it PERFECTLY. Gotta be perfect, ya know! ;3</p> <p>I’ve always loved to journal and plan, I did even before I got into JGT but of course those are WAY more boring LOL. But I figured I’d help you all do it in style!</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc1"><span>Make it aesthetically pleasing!</span></h1> </div> <p>To start out, you’ll need some GLITTER PENS!!! No planner is complete without being written in beautiful colors! Here’s a picture of mine!</p> <p>My favorite color is pink OF COURSE but I have purple here too! But you can use any color that suits you as long as it's girly! You NEED something cute to write in—don’t want to be boring!</p> <p>Then you need a cute notebook! Mine is pink on the outside with this cute rainbow print and a nice message, but you can use stickers, decorative tape, ANYTHING! Just make sure it's cute!</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span>What should you put in a planner?</span></h1> </div> <p>Second, we need to go over what to put in a planner! Here are some good examples!</p> <ul> <li>A to do list</li> <li>Goals for the day</li> <li>Plan what your perfect day looks like</li> <li>Daily affirmations</li> <li>Daily health goals (I always make sure to take my diet pills!)</li> </ul> <div style="text-align: center;"> <hr/> <h1 id="toc3"><span>Perfect Planner Example</span></h1> </div> <p>So to give you an example of a planner, I’m going to show the planner that I used to start on my journey of girlhood! I used this every day, and now I’m the lovely girl you see before you today! I decided to put notes in case I ever planned on sharing it (which I did!) When I was making this, the idea came to me to make a tutorial, so I thought I’d make it accessible! If it seems like I’m talking to you, I am! I wrote this in a physical journal, but I wrote it out in text so you could read it better!</p> <div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc4"><span>Dolly’s Daily Planner (tutorial version)</span></h1> </div> <ul> <li>Wake up in bed! I have it all decorated in cute pink pillows and bedding!</li> <li>Shower! Gotta be nice and clean! If you don’t shower every day, that’s totally gross.</li> <li>Get all dolled up in nice make up and cute clothes! Maybe I should get new ones though? My husband says he doesn’t like them and that it’s ‘too much pink and frills’. He says whatever makes me happy, but wishes I wouldn’t have gotten rid of my old clothes. Maybe I should try more white?</li> <li>Don’t eat breakfast if you plan on eating lunch and dinner! That’s way too much food!</li> <li>I would put take diet pills here, but mine went missing, so putting buying new ones from Ella on the to do list. I asked my husband if he’s seen them, but he said no.</li> <li>Go to Ella’s to get diet pills + her bakery to get some sweets! Really need more of those mite mice, I was running low.</li> <li>Make lunch for Robbin. My husband was home from work today, so I was able to make a nice meal today! He insisted on doing it together like we used to, but I told him that only women belong in the kitchen and that I should serve him as his wife. (Make sure to make yourself a smaller portion!)</li> <li>Eat lunch!</li> <li>Do dishes after lunch! Clean husband's food off both plates.</li> <li>Do chores around the house. Don’t leave that to your man! Except for the boyish ones like yard work. Clean and do laundry, make sure the house is perfect for him!</li> <li>Okay so he did the laundry already? I told him I would do it.</li> <li>Spend time blogging on JGT! Make sure to share your experience with other girls!</li> <li>Make dinner! (Again, make sure to make small portions)</li> <li>He tried to share again! I told him I DON’T need more food.</li> <li>Get ready for bed!</li> <li>Prepare the couch's bedding!</li> <li>Go to bed!</li> </ul> <hr/> <p>I hope that helped you make a PERFECT daily planner for your day! Make sure to leave a comment with your opinions. Thanks for reading! -Dolly</p> </div> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/html/be27602d7b5fbb1cfb2b36922e86340393a366d3-1237667702970924130"></iframe><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc5"><span>Comments</span></h1> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ef63ff"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MelanieChuterxo</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #e88ee2">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>Are you okay? More specifically, is your husband okay? Something seems wrong with him! 😱</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #f54272"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">SweetGenevieve✿</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #f54272">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>We're here for you if you need anything! It seems like your husband is trying to corrupt you. Why did you marry someone like this?</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #ef63ff"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MelanieChuterxo</span></span>, <span style="color: #f54272"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">SweetGenevieve✿</span></span></p> <p>What do you mean? Everything is fine!</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ef63ff"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MelanieChuterxo</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #e88ee2">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></p> <p>What are you, blind? No it's not! What you're describing here is classic indoctrination from society making your husband into some woke liberal man who doesn't understand the true beauty of a woman. He doesn't like you for how you are? That's totally messed up. If everything is fine, why are you making the couch as a bed? I thought it was just you two. Cleaning food off two plates? You should have none left over.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #f54272"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">SweetGenevieve✿</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #f54272">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></p> <p>I don't understand. Everything is perfect with my boyfriend. He loves JGT. Well, from what he's allowed to know about it. He just likes that I'm his perfect girl :) I can't believe you have to withstand this abuse of him trying to force you to be some lame person. You need to be a perfect girl. He seems really unappreciative. You know, maybe you could talk to <span style="color: hotpink">@KeeLee</span>.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #ef63ff"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MelanieChuterxo</span></span>, <span style="color: #f54272"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">SweetGenevieve✿</span></span></p> <p>You know, it is really messed up! When I brought cake from Ella's, he wouldn't even try it! It's like he stopped trying to connect with me. He says 'you're not the person I married'. And he's right. I'm better! And yeah he… he doesn't sleep in the bed with me anymore. He says he isn't interested. The food is both his. He tries to share his food with me. Which I don't accept, of course!</p> <p>I've never talked to KeeLee personally, do you really think she could help? The reason I wanted to do a planner was because I actually wanted practice for our anniversary that's coming up soon. It's our four-year anniversary and I really want it to be special. But at this point… I feel like he doesn't love me anymore.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: hotpink">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></p> <p>Oh dear, never say that. I'm really sorry for what's happening with you, Dolly. I've been observing you since you first joined, and I think you've been doing a great job. But sometimes men don't understand, which is tragic. This is a bit cheesy, but I actually have something I could give you as an anniversary present. I wanted to give you a gift to show my support for you— girl to girl. It’s not quite ready yet, gotta make sure it’s perfect!</p> <p>Also you mentioned you journaled before you found JGT? What did you journal about? I’d also love to see your anniversary plans.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></p> <p>Really? That’s so nice of you! 😱😍 KeeLee you’re TOATS amazing! Omg 💖💖💖 are you sure?</p> <p>It’s a bit long to put here, just my old gross daily schedule. I could make a post about it! With it I could plan out my anniversary plans!</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: hotpink">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></p> <p>Of course I’m sure! But I can’t tell you yet, as I want it to be a surprise of course.</p> <p>And that sounds good to me. I look forward to it.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="light"> <h1 id="toc6"><span>Dolly’s Four-Year Anniversary Plans♡</span></h1> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 23rd, 2018</span></span></p> <hr/> <p>Hello everyone! So this post was specifically requested by the queen KeeLee herself! I figured I'd so you what my anniversary plans for my husband are! But first, I want to show an old daily planner, which was also requested. Now warning, this was from before I was into JGT, so it’s kinda gross 🤢 also I went by a different name before I found my true nature so haha</p> <hr/> <h1 id="toc7"><span>Bailey’s Plans February 2nd, 2014</span></h1> <ul> <li>get up, shower</li> <li>Get ready for work</li> <li>Go to work</li> <li>Pick up new PlayStation controller from GameStop cause Robbin got gamer's rage (haha)</li> <li>Wash my favorite Pokemon dress because I got barbecue sauce on it at lunch yesterday</li> <li>talk to Robbin about getting nasal strips (he snores too loudly)</li> <li>Help Robbin make dinner</li> <li>play game with Robbin</li> <li>remember for tomorrow, go to Molly’s house, she says she has something to show me</li> </ul> <hr/> <p>Isn’t that gross?? I’m not sure why anyone would want to see this but here it is. I’m much better now as you can tell :)</p> <p>Now onto the fun part! Anniversary plans!</p> <p>I wasn’t really sure what to do to be completely honest with you girlies. But then I thought about it, and I realized that maybe I just haven’t shown myself to him enough. That I wasn't trying hard enough, and that's why he doesn't like me! What would be a better anniversary gift than fully showing myself to him? So here’s a planner I made showing what I plan to do!</p> <h1 id="toc8"><span>Anniversary plans</span></h1> <ul> <li>Wake up and get all dolled up! I will try white this time, that’s always been a pretty color to me. Use lots of makeup!</li> <li>Make a nice breakfast, but only for him! This is his day after all!</li> <li>Plan activities that are fun for him and do things he likes!</li> <li>Watch him to his activities and stay to the side like the perfect housewife I am incase he needs anything.</li> <li>Give cake I will get from Ella's the day before.</li> <li>Offer to myself to him if he desires it.</li> <li>Make lunch! Again, only for him.</li> <li>Then dinner, only for him.</li> <li>Go to bed with him! We will surely go to bed together this time.</li> </ul> <p>Those are my plans! Feel free to take inspiration for your anniversaries! :3</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/html/be27602d7b5fbb1cfb2b36922e86340393a366d3-1782478431521513117"></iframe><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc9"><span>Comments</span></h1> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Madelineaboxofcandy</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 23rd, 2018</span></span></p> <p>Totally using this for my anniversary with my boyfriend omg (◕▿◕✿) I'm kinda like this already lol but I can make it special (ღˇᴗˇ)｡o</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #49cc80"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Ellasweettreat09</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 23rd, 2018</span></span></p> <p>Enjoy the cake! I'm sure he will! That's always helped me and my husband bond.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 23rd, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #49cc80"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Ellasweettreat09</span></span></p> <p>I'm sure he'll actually try it this time!</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #f018b3"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">BabyBella</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 23rd, 2018</span></span></p> <p>This kind of disgusted me ngl, how could you have ever been like that? video games? ew! I'm so glad you're different now!</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 23rd, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: #f018b3"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">BabyBella</span></span></p> <p>I know, it disgusts me too. But I'm different now, as you can see!</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: hotpink">March 24th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>This was certainly hard to look at, Dolly. But I know you're better now. And when your anniversary comes, your husband will too.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 24th, 2018</span></span></p> <p><span style="color: hotpink">In response to:</span> <span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></p> <p>It was harder for me. To have to dig it up. To look at my past. When I was ashamed of myself. Overweight and ugly. Boyish. But I'm beautiful now! And hopefully, Robbin will see it too soon.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="light"> <h1 id="toc10"><span>Anniversary Fail…</span></h1> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">March 30th, 2018</span></span></p> <hr/> <p>My anniversary was a bust.</p> <p>He didn't like it all.</p> <p>I woke up and dolled myself up for him, but he told me he didn't like it</p> <p>He tried to share all three meals with me</p> <p>He wouldn't do the activities without me. "You used to like doing these too."</p> <p>He wouldn't eat the cake.</p> <p>He didn't sleep with me. couch. again.</p> <hr/> <p>but the next day was the worst part. I woke up and went to journal. I found it open. I don't remember leaving it open, but I must have been so tired that I did so.</p> <p>I couldn't even do it. So I just went to make breakfast.</p> <p>Robbin said he wanted to talk with me. About everything. About my behaviors, about my clothes, about me. He's said I changed, and he doesn't like how. That he wants the old me back.</p> <p>He misses when we gamed together.</p> <p>When we cooked together.</p> <p>When we laughed over stupid memes together.</p> <p>He misses when I was me.</p> <p>But I don't get it. I am me.</p> <p>He said he wants to book a session with a professional! To try and talk out my problems and what's become of me!</p> <p>And I… I don't know what to do. I can't disobey him. Do I have to agree?</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/html/be27602d7b5fbb1cfb2b36922e86340393a366d3-204285423473309189"></iframe><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc11"><span>Comments</span></h1> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: hotpink">March 30th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>Don't worry Dolly. I'll be saving you and dealing with your husband. Your gift was originally going to be a few months late. But it'll be early. Go to Ella, I'll give it to her. This will be dealt with.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><em><span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span> has disabled comments.</span></em></span></p> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="light"> <h1 id="toc12"><span>Everything is better!</span></h1> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #ff4599"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">MissDolly</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">June 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <hr/> <p>I'm so sorry for my lack of updates. I know you were all worried about me. But I return with great news! Everything is better! ٩(๑> ₃ <)۶♥</p> <p>Looks like Robbin FINALLY came around! KeeLee, your gift WORKED! He's been more of my perfect husband instead of what he was before! He's started being more strict with me and my appearance and has finally stopped sharing his food! I've really enjoyed cooking for him now that he FINALLY lets me do it. Sometimes he'll just stare at me while I do it. He tells me he wants me to be the perfect woman, and we finally sleep in bed together again! He's completely stopped hating my girly dresses, and even started buying me new clothes! He's even been telling me to put on more makeup and style my hair cuter! But he always has a weird look on his face when it happens. One time he bought me a black dress though and seemed really weird when he apologized. But anyway! Thank you so much to KeeLee for her help!</p> <p>If you need help with your man, go to KeeLee! (and sorry this post is so short)</p> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/html/be27602d7b5fbb1cfb2b36922e86340393a366d3-102847875617622274"></iframe><br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc13"><span>Comments</span></h1> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #f018b3"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">BabyBella</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">June 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>I'm so happy everything is working out for you now! Congrats girl! KeeLee works wonders!</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #f54272"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">SweetGenevieve✿</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #f54272">June 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>I knew KeeLee could help you! But ugh, black is so tacky, why would he choose that color?</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: #49cc80"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Ellasweettreat09</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: #ff8abf">June 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>Happy to have delivered this pill to you! When KeeLee said she needed help with something, my jaw DROPPED at what it was. I'm so happy to do this for you.</p> <hr/> <p><span style="font-size:125%;"><span style="color: hotpink"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">KeeLee</span></span></span> <span style="font-size:small;"><span style="color: hotpink">March 20th, 2018</span></span></p> <p>Perfect. I'll get the kinks worked out soon enough. Let me know if you know if you need any more help. This is how things should be.</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="/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we">We can't plan out our lives, or can we?</a>" by DianaBerry, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we">https://scpwiki.com/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we</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> desk jgt<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dianaberry" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3444428); return false;"><img alt="DianaBerry" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3444428&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3444428)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dianaberry" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3444428); return false;">DianaBerry</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/desk%20jgt">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/desk%20jgt</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> pen jgt<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dianaberry" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3444428); return false;"><img alt="DianaBerry" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3444428&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043708" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3444428)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dianaberry" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3444428); return false;">DianaBerry</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/pen%20jgt">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/pen%20jgt</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>]] [[>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] CW: psychological horror, eating disorders, fatphobia, misogyny, brainwashing, abuse [[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>]] [[/>]] @@ @@ [[module CSS]] .light {display:block; background:#fffafa; color: #08090a; padding: 5px 10px 5px 10px; border: solid 1px pink} .lightquote {color: #839496; background-color: #F8F9F9;border: solid 3px #EBEDEF;border-radius: 10px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; width: 85%; margin: 0px 0px 5px; font-size: 110%} .lighthighlight {background-color: #F8F9F9; color: #939BA6; font-family:monospace; font-size: 125%} .user1 {font-weight: bold;color: #c0e3ea} .user2 {font-weight: bold;color: #ff0066} .tag {color: #7289DA} [[/module]] [[div class="light"]] + Perfectly Planned Out Planner [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ------ [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/desk%20jgt width="600px"]] Hello y'all! This is a picture of my cute little desk! Oh yeah! There I’ve got my journal, then some cute decorations and some nice jewels laid out! ! I just wanted to show this to you. Why is it relevant? Because we're going to be talking about planners! Now setting up planners is serious business. Because as a girl, we have a lot of plans! :P We have to get ready with our clothes and hair and make-up in the morning, we have to be absolutely perfect for our boyfriends and husbands- don't want to disappoint our man! We have long days with the girlfriends, going on shopping days, etc. So much to do! Now there’s a lot of things that you can put in planners, like daily task lists, bullet journaling, goals, notes, etc! What we’re focusing on today is a daily task list! What is that? A planner task list is where you plan out your day, of course! You can plan out more than one at a time, or do it at the start of each day! I prefer to do one at the start of each day! Now once you make this, make sure to follow it PERFECTLY. Gotta be perfect, ya know! ;3 I’ve always loved to journal and plan, I did even before I got into JGT but of course those are WAY more boring LOL. But I figured I’d help you all do it in style! ------ [[=]] + Make it aesthetically pleasing! [[/=]] To start out, you’ll need some GLITTER PENS!!! No planner is complete without being written in beautiful colors! Here’s a picture of mine! [[=image https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/pen%20jgt width="500px"]] My favorite color is pink OF COURSE but I have purple here too! But you can use any color that suits you as long as it's girly! You NEED something cute to write in—don’t want to be boring! Then you need a cute notebook! Mine is pink on the outside with this cute rainbow print and a nice message, but you can use stickers, decorative tape, ANYTHING! Just make sure it's cute! ------ [[=]] + What should you put in a planner? [[/=]] Second, we need to go over what to put in a planner! Here are some good examples! * A to do list * Goals for the day * Plan what your perfect day looks like * Daily affirmations * Daily health goals (I always make sure to take my diet pills!) [[=]] ------ + Perfect Planner Example [[/=]] So to give you an example of a planner, I’m going to show the planner that I used to start on my journey of girlhood! I used this every day, and now I’m the lovely girl you see before you today! I decided to put notes in case I ever planned on sharing it (which I did!) When I was making this, the idea came to me to make a tutorial, so I thought I’d make it accessible! If it seems like I’m talking to you, I am! I wrote this in a physical journal, but I wrote it out in text so you could read it better! [[div]] [[=]] + Dolly’s Daily Planner (tutorial version) [[/=]] * Wake up in bed! I have it all decorated in cute pink pillows and bedding! * Shower! Gotta be nice and clean! If you don’t shower every day, that’s totally gross. * Get all dolled up in nice make up and cute clothes! Maybe I should get new ones though? My husband says he doesn’t like them and that it’s ‘too much pink and frills’. He says whatever makes me happy, but wishes I wouldn’t have gotten rid of my old clothes. Maybe I should try more white? * Don’t eat breakfast if you plan on eating lunch and dinner! That’s way too much food! * I would put take diet pills here, but mine went missing, so putting buying new ones from Ella on the to do list. I asked my husband if he’s seen them, but he said no. * Go to Ella’s to get diet pills + her bakery to get some sweets! Really need more of those mite mice, I was running low. * Make lunch for Robbin. My husband was home from work today, so I was able to make a nice meal today! He insisted on doing it together like we used to, but I told him that only women belong in the kitchen and that I should serve him as his wife. (Make sure to make yourself a smaller portion!) * Eat lunch! * Do dishes after lunch! Clean husband's food off both plates. * Do chores around the house. Don’t leave that to your man! Except for the boyish ones like yard work. Clean and do laundry, make sure the house is perfect for him! * Okay so he did the laundry already? I told him I would do it. * Spend time blogging on JGT! Make sure to share your experience with other girls! * Make dinner! (Again, make sure to make small portions) * He tried to share again! I told him I DON’T need more food. * Get ready for bed! * Prepare the couch's bedding! * Go to bed! ------ I hope that helped you make a PERFECT daily planner for your day! Make sure to leave a comment with your opinions. Thanks for reading! -Dolly [[/div]] [[html]] <h1 style="border:2px solid Violet;"> </h1> [[/html]] [[=]] + Comments [[/=]] @@ @@ ------ [[size 125%]]###EF63FF\|__MelanieChuterxo__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###E88EE2\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] Are you okay? More specifically, is your husband okay? Something seems wrong with him! 😱 ------ [[size 125%]]###f54272\|__SweetGenevieve✿__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###f54272\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] We're here for you if you need anything! It seems like your husband is trying to corrupt you. Why did you marry someone like this? ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ###EF63FF\|__MelanieChuterxo__##, ###f54272\|__SweetGenevieve✿__## What do you mean? Everything is fine! ------ [[size 125%]]###EF63FF\|__MelanieChuterxo__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###E88EE2\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ##FF4599\|__MissDolly__## What are you, blind? No it's not! What you're describing here is classic indoctrination from society making your husband into some woke liberal man who doesn't understand the true beauty of a woman. He doesn't like you for how you are? That's totally messed up. If everything is fine, why are you making the couch as a bed? I thought it was just you two. Cleaning food off two plates? You should have none left over. ------ [[size 125%]]###f54272\|__SweetGenevieve✿__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###f54272\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ##FF4599\|__MissDolly__## I don't understand. Everything is perfect with my boyfriend. He loves JGT. Well, from what he's allowed to know about it. He just likes that I'm his perfect girl :) I can't believe you have to withstand this abuse of him trying to force you to be some lame person. You need to be a perfect girl. He seems really unappreciative. You know, maybe you could talk to ##hotpink\|@KeeLee##. ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ###EF63FF\|__MelanieChuterxo__##, ###f54272\|__SweetGenevieve✿__## You know, it is really messed up! When I brought cake from Ella's, he wouldn't even try it! It's like he stopped trying to connect with me. He says 'you're not the person I married'. And he's right. I'm better! And yeah he... he doesn't sleep in the bed with me anymore. He says he isn't interested. The food is both his. He tries to share his food with me. Which I don't accept, of course! I've never talked to KeeLee personally, do you really think she could help? The reason I wanted to do a planner was because I actually wanted practice for our anniversary that's coming up soon. It's our four-year anniversary and I really want it to be special. But at this point... I feel like he doesn't love me anymore. ------ [[size 125%]]##hotpink\|__KeeLee__##[[/size]] [[size small]]##hotpink\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ##FF4599\|__MissDolly__## Oh dear, never say that. I'm really sorry for what's happening with you, Dolly. I've been observing you since you first joined, and I think you've been doing a great job. But sometimes men don't understand, which is tragic. This is a bit cheesy, but I actually have something I could give you as an anniversary present. I wanted to give you a gift to show my support for you— girl to girl. It’s not quite ready yet, gotta make sure it’s perfect! Also you mentioned you journaled before you found JGT? What did you journal about? I’d also love to see your anniversary plans. ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ##hotpink\|__KeeLee__## Really? That’s so nice of you! 😱😍 KeeLee you’re TOATS amazing! Omg 💖💖💖 are you sure? It’s a bit long to put here, just my old gross daily schedule. I could make a post about it! With it I could plan out my anniversary plans! ------ [[size 125%]]##hotpink\|__KeeLee__##[[/size]] [[size small]]##hotpink\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ##FF4599\|__MissDolly__## Of course I’m sure! But I can’t tell you yet, as I want it to be a surprise of course. And that sounds good to me. I look forward to it. [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="light"]] + Dolly’s Four-Year Anniversary Plans♡ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 23rd, 2018##[[/size]] ------ Hello everyone! So this post was specifically requested by the queen KeeLee herself! I figured I'd so you what my anniversary plans for my husband are! But first, I want to show an old daily planner, which was also requested. Now warning, this was from before I was into JGT, so it’s kinda gross 🤢 also I went by a different name before I found my true nature so haha ------ + Bailey’s Plans February 2nd, 2014 * get up, shower * Get ready for work * Go to work * Pick up new PlayStation controller from GameStop cause Robbin got gamer's rage (haha) * Wash my favorite Pokemon dress because I got barbecue sauce on it at lunch yesterday * talk to Robbin about getting nasal strips (he snores too loudly) * Help Robbin make dinner * play game with Robbin * remember for tomorrow, go to Molly’s house, she says she has something to show me ------ Isn’t that gross?? I’m not sure why anyone would want to see this but here it is. I’m much better now as you can tell :) Now onto the fun part! Anniversary plans! I wasn’t really sure what to do to be completely honest with you girlies. But then I thought about it, and I realized that maybe I just haven’t shown myself to him enough. That I wasn't trying hard enough, and that's why he doesn't like me! What would be a better anniversary gift than fully showing myself to him? So here’s a planner I made showing what I plan to do! + Anniversary plans * Wake up and get all dolled up! I will try white this time, that’s always been a pretty color to me. Use lots of makeup! * Make a nice breakfast, but only for him! This is his day after all! * Plan activities that are fun for him and do things he likes! * Watch him to his activities and stay to the side like the perfect housewife I am incase he needs anything. * Give cake I will get from Ella's the day before. * Offer to myself to him if he desires it. * Make lunch! Again, only for him. * Then dinner, only for him. * Go to bed with him! We will surely go to bed together this time. Those are my plans! Feel free to take inspiration for your anniversaries! :3 [[html]] <h1 style="border:2px solid Violet;"> </h1> [[/html]] [[=]] + Comments [[/=]] @@ @@ ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__Madelineaboxofcandy__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 23rd, 2018##[[/size]] Totally using this for my anniversary with my boyfriend omg (◕▿◕✿) I'm kinda like this already lol but I can make it special (ღˇᴗˇ)｡o ------ [[size 125%]]###49CC80\|__Ellasweettreat09__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 23rd, 2018##[[/size]] Enjoy the cake! I'm sure he will! That's always helped me and my husband bond. ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 23rd, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ###49CC80\|__Ellasweettreat09__## I'm sure he'll actually try it this time! ------ [[size 125%]]###f018b3\|__BabyBella__## [[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 23rd, 2018##[[/size]] This kind of disgusted me ngl, how could you have ever been like that? video games? ew! I'm so glad you're different now! ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 23rd, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ###f018b3\|__BabyBella__## I know, it disgusts me too. But I'm different now, as you can see! ------ [[size 125%]]##hotpink\|__KeeLee__##[[/size]] [[size small]]##hotpink\|March 24th, 2018##[[/size]] This was certainly hard to look at, Dolly. But I know you're better now. And when your anniversary comes, your husband will too. ------ [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 24th, 2018##[[/size]] ##hotpink\|In response to:## ##hotpink\|__KeeLee__## It was harder for me. To have to dig it up. To look at my past. When I was ashamed of myself. Overweight and ugly. Boyish. But I'm beautiful now! And hopefully, Robbin will see it too soon. [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="light"]] + Anniversary Fail... [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|March 30th, 2018##[[/size]] ------ My anniversary was a bust. He didn't like it all. I woke up and dolled myself up for him, but he told me he didn't like it He tried to share all three meals with me He wouldn't do the activities without me. "You used to like doing these too." He wouldn't eat the cake. He didn't sleep with me. couch. again. ------ but the next day was the worst part. I woke up and went to journal. I found it open. I don't remember leaving it open, but I must have been so tired that I did so. I couldn't even do it. So I just went to make breakfast. Robbin said he wanted to talk with me. About everything. About my behaviors, about my clothes, about me. He's said I changed, and he doesn't like how. That he wants the old me back. He misses when we gamed together. When we cooked together. When we laughed over stupid memes together. He misses when I was me. But I don't get it. I am me. He said he wants to book a session with a professional! To try and talk out my problems and what's become of me! And I... I don't know what to do. I can't disobey him. Do I have to agree? [[html]] <h1 style="border:2px solid Violet;"> </h1> [[/html]] [[=]] + Comments [[/=]] @@ @@ ------ [[size 125%]]##hotpink\|__KeeLee__##[[/size]] [[size small]]##hotpink\|March 30th, 2018##[[/size]] Don't worry Dolly. I'll be saving you and dealing with your husband. Your gift was originally going to be a few months late. But it'll be early. Go to Ella, I'll give it to her. This will be dealt with. ------ [[=]] [[size 125%]]//##hotpink\|__KeeLee__ has disabled comments.##//[[/size]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="light"]] + Everything is better! [[size 125%]]###FF4599\|__MissDolly__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|June 20th, 2018##[[/size]] ------ I'm so sorry for my lack of updates. I know you were all worried about me. But I return with great news! Everything is better! ٩(๑> ₃ <)۶♥ Looks like Robbin FINALLY came around! KeeLee, your gift WORKED! He's been more of my perfect husband instead of what he was before! He's started being more strict with me and my appearance and has finally stopped sharing his food! I've really enjoyed cooking for him now that he FINALLY lets me do it. Sometimes he'll just stare at me while I do it. He tells me he wants me to be the perfect woman, and we finally sleep in bed together again! He's completely stopped hating my girly dresses, and even started buying me new clothes! He's even been telling me to put on more makeup and style my hair cuter! But he always has a weird look on his face when it happens. One time he bought me a black dress though and seemed really weird when he apologized. But anyway! Thank you so much to KeeLee for her help! If you need help with your man, go to KeeLee! (and sorry this post is so short) [[html]] <h1 style="border:2px solid Violet;"> </h1> [[/html]] [[=]] + Comments [[/=]] @@ @@ ------ [[size 125%]]###f018b3\|__BabyBella__## [[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|June 20th, 2018##[[/size]] I'm so happy everything is working out for you now! Congrats girl! KeeLee works wonders! ------ [[size 125%]]###f54272\|__SweetGenevieve✿__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###f54272\|June 20th, 2018##[[/size]] I knew KeeLee could help you! But ugh, black is so tacky, why would he choose that color? ------ [[size 125%]]###49CC80\|__Ellasweettreat09__##[[/size]] [[size small]]###FF8ABF\|June 20th, 2018##[[/size]] Happy to have delivered this pill to you! When KeeLee said she needed help with something, my jaw DROPPED at what it was. I'm so happy to do this for you. ------ [[size 125%]]##hotpink\|__KeeLee__##[[/size]] [[size small]]##hotpink\|March 20th, 2018##[[/size]] Perfect. I'll get the kinks worked out soon enough. Let me know if you know if you need any more help. This is how things should be. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \| author=DianaBerry]] ===== > Filename: desk jgt > Author: [[user DianaBerry]] > License:* CC-BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/desk%20jgt ===== ===== > Filename: pen jgt > Author: [[user DianaBerry]] > License:* CC-BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/pen%20jgt ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-09-05T00:29:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "just-girly-things", "tale" ]	We can't plan out our lives, or can we? - SCP Foundation	42	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/desk%20jgt", "local--files/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we/pen%20jgt" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "just-girly-things-hub" ]	[]	1449855619	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-can-t-plan-out-our-lives-or-can-we
we-ll-meet-again	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <br/> Today’s report: 3 dead. Same initial cause: laceration to the back of the neck, attempts at a cleanup, and traces of unknown organic matter at the edges of the injury. Same desecration: limbs removed, torso sliced apart, teeth marks in the face.<br/> Same rumors: the Flesh Flower. <p>“Y'know the vents get loud at night. Y'all've heard it, sure. Thinkin' 'oh, s'just the shower pipes leaking or the cooling being increased or whatever.' But <em>I</em> know better.”</p> <p>The young worker put down his cup of distilled water, ignoring his foodpaste, leaning over the table towards his companions. I, of course, stand guard near the food trays, but lean a little to eavesdrop on a cafeteria tale I’ve yet to hear.</p> <p>“I've seen that Flesh Flower's face, through vent systems 76C and up through 192YY - you know, by that stupid old library? Always starting at 00:51, it’s there!”</p> <p>He takes a quick sip of water, his companions falling silent by now to listen.<br/> He keeps his expression entirely neutral.</p> <p>“Every single night, I sees those petals, sees an eye flicker to the side. It’s watching me, I swear.”</p> <p>Some of his companions chuckle, but most exchange nervous looks. </p> <p>“And get this! It was nearly… what, 7 months ago? At lights-out, I was working on a slurry pipeline.”</p> <p>His companions groan.</p> <p>“The usual shit, yeh. But - when I popped the grating of the tube and peeked inside - <em>that's</em> when I saw it.</p> <p>"A deep crimson face peered back at me. Dozens of mattered eyes, they all turned to face me.<br/> Eyes on its face, eyes on the sides of its head, eyes on its neck.<br/> Its petals… framed its face… those gently swaying, blood-red tendrils, and one big eye for a face.<br/> Bloodshot and swollen, examining me.<br/> Piercing me.“</p> <p>He trails off, takes a sip, then continues. Someone drops a tray, and the room falls silent, but he presses on without even flinching. I remain standing up straight, as I must.</p> <p>“S'not like it said nothing. Just stared at each other. Damn thing still crawls around - would recognize it anywhere! Look, I know it’s more than the rest of the flesh-floors and the growths.<br/> I've seen the look in its eyes - every damn one of them.<br/> I reckon it knows something we don't."</p> <p>By now, the chatter in the room has resumed. His companions slap him on the back and laugh, adding their own insightful commentary…</p> <p>"Would rather get merced by a fuckin' plant than fumed out underground, m'self…"</p> <p>…but I find myself mulling over his words for days on end.<br/> I choose not to eat that day. The formula we're fed is fit only for the pipeheads to eat - nothing organic exists down here to eat, of course, so you get used to the taste. Mostly.</p> <p>I was still mulling over his words when I went to bed that night. On a whim, I peered into the air vent above my cot in my solo sleeping quarters. I saw nothing peering back, which assured me. And besides - there was a metal grating firmly bolted onto the vent. Not a chance anything would get through. But the thoughts still persisted, try as I did to use logic to dispel them. How did it manage to strike in the blind spots between cameras? Why has nobody seen it? How have the automated vent snares failed to grab it? Did they even work anymore? Did it have anything to do with the flesh growths from the mines?<br/> All these questions and more buzzed my strapping body like flies as I took a look at the crime scene.</p> <p>I take one more photograph of the body. This one was of a worker, still wearing their bright jacket - think I'd seen him at the cafeteria before. The killings always happened at night, and via the same method, but that was the only consistency. Where, exactly when, who… I had theories, yes, but no evidence.<br/> As the bunker’s Head of Investigations, it was in my best interest to get some answers. It was hard enough suppressing rumors in such a small community, and 3 more surprise deaths of “natural causes” would only raise more eyebrows. 33 was somewhat above the 'acceptable loss' quota for the month.</p> <p>That was when I decided to do some reading.</p> <p>I find myself most productive when inside a library. This one in particular is homely, the source of the only open flame in the bunker - a nice stone fireplace around some wicker reading chairs. I slouch slightly as I walk in, a taste of refined elegance permeating the beautiful, artificial oak and LED-filled chandeliers. It's nice, here, away from the mines and the distorted screams of the pipeheads looking for their next fix… until I realized some chimpanzee had gone ahead and scratched the oak.<br/> With a scratch that reached all the way up to the roof, no less - and… shattered the glass of a CCTV camera in the corner.<br/> Unusual.</p> <p>I decide to take a closer look, and spot some thorns embedded in the glass. I walk over to the counter and the librarian, walking past the desk. She glares up at me from her reading chair.</p> <p>“Excuse me, si-“</p> <p>I place a hand behind her neck and tap 3 times, wait a moment, and tap once more. She slumps over onto the desk, face landing between the blank pages of the fake book she was reading. I tap 4 times, wait, then tap twice.</p> <p>“Mode: Debug. User: Stefan Riddle. Password: 8008lavender.”</p> <p>The woman sits up straight.</p> <p>“Query: Yesterday, between 20:00 and 07:00 hours. Recount disturbances.”</p> <p>She stares blankly ahead. “No disturbances recorded.”</p> <p>I sigh.</p> <p>“Query: Download 24CCTV to 19:23:71:1102.”</p> <p>I walk out from behind the desk.</p> <p>“Mode: Default.”</p> <p>She slumps down, then regains her composure, returning to her fake book and her fake life or whatever androids do.</p> <p>I sit down at one of the dozens of empty tables and tap on the side of my glasses. I spend a moment scrolling through the views of bookshelves and the crackling fire until I lose visual in a camera. Pausing the footage, I check my other cameras. And… aha.<br/> A vine can be seen creeping up a wall-<br/> and that’s when I heard a loud THUD, from above me, jolting me out of the video playblack. I take off my glasses as I hear another, and another. From a vent system poking out from the high ceiling. At this time of night, I know nobody is likely to be on call- and then something fell.</p> <p>From the vents, a mass of vines, red tentacles, and a… humanoid figure collapse in front of me. It stands, and a single eye centered in its head opens to stare at me. It instantly slams me in the chest with a tentacle, knocking me to the ground, before covering the bottom of its face with its hands. I look up at it, groaning quietly from my stunned state. It’s wearing a dress, I notice, as its ballet shoes walk a little closer. The straps are fused into its fleshy feet. Vines around it, tipped with thorny barbs and poised to strike, slowly retract, confused, as its eye widens in surprise.</p> <p>“Oh! There’s… usually nobody here-“</p> <p>Its voice is light and feminine, in stark contrast to its gruesome appearance.<br/> I stand up and move to draw my pistol. It slams me in the gut, as I double over momentarily.</p> <p>“Oh, no you don’t. Sit <strong>DOWN.</strong>”</p> <p>It shoves me into a wicker chair, before simply sitting in front of me, vines quickly twisting and writing beneath it to form a crude seat. I almost move to stand before I see vines quickly sprout from the floor around me, with spiked thorns at their tips. As the pain subsides, I realize 3 things - I am alive, uninjured, and in <em>deep</em> shit.</p> <p>It stares at me, eye blinking once, twice. Its gaze moves to the tag on my shirt, then back to my face.</p> <p>“Security. Hmm.”</p> <p>The vines around it shift, then settle.</p> <p>“Honestly, I’m glad you had the common sense to comply. Would hate to have made a mess.”</p> <p>The thorny vines behind and around it fully retract, save for the ones around my feet, and I realize a fourth thing - it’s sapient, and it wants a reply.</p> <p>“Erm. I appreciate your… restraint.”</p> <p>We’d been trained for the flesh growths, and the occasional pipehead - not this. It crosses its arms over its chest, blinking a few times.</p> <p>“Well, first off, I’m not hungry. I was just here to finish a book about pets. Not like I can check things out - I know it’s all tracked. But I wanted to read about cats.”</p> <p>My sharp inhale goes unnoticed by the entity. How did it know?</p> <p>“First, it was hydrochloric acid, then biology, then I found something about pets, dogs… you know, I’ve already read about dogs."</p> <p>The entity’s eye closes briefly, eyelid curled up in a sort of smile. The petals flanking its face spread out, exposing more of its raw, red flesh to feel the air.</p> <p>“If I could go anywhere - be anyone - I’d want to see the surface. Own a farm.”<br/> Its eye opens, petals framing its bloodshot gaze as it consumes its entire face. “I’d have a purpose - something to work towards. I’d get to go home to something that loves me, unconditionally.”</p> <p>It shoots me an irritated glare.</p> <p>“Something that doesn’t judge me for petty things out of my control.”</p> <p>I neglect to mention the numerous bodies it left scattered around the station, and simply nod.<br/> It idly wipes at its bloodied dress.</p> <p>“There's nothing organic here to eat, anyway…"</p> <p>It sighs deeply.</p> <p>"Anyway. Doubt people like you even have ambitions, but… mind if I ask what yours might be?”</p> <p>I lean forward in my wicker chair, clasping my hands together. Do I ask about the books, or answer the question? Considering its current… advantage, in this situation, and my own doubt in the stopping power of my sidearm should its compliance prove fickle, I decide it is best not to antagonize.</p> <p>“Work for the N-UN. Help keep the peace in the places that really need it, work to make the world a better place.”</p> <p>Its face rips open, revealing spiraling, irregularly spinning rows of thorn-like teeth.<br/> The laugh it emits is… human.<br/> After finding my comment amusing, it leans forward similarly, gaze shifted to amusement. I raise an eyebrow, but it does not explain itself. Clearing my throat, I decide to move to the next required topic of conversation.</p> <p>“I’d like to hear more about what you read about.”</p> <p>It leans back, rolling its eye.</p> <p>“Oh, NOW you’re interested. I suppose you would like to know how I got in there, yes? That would be where you’re leading me?”</p> <p>Sharp, this one.</p> <p>“No, this is off-the-books. I would actually like to hear more about what you read about - other than dogs and hydrochloric acid.”</p> <p>Its gaze flickers from the door, to my hands, to my face, to the vent, before it finally clasps its hands together. It sighs, the silence growing more uncomfortable every moment, but it finally looks into my eyes.</p> <p>“About what the surface’s like. If it even exists. About the war. About serial killers. About the solar system. About the late President. About Rome. About diseases.”</p> <p>A smaller hole is ripped across the side of its face, revealing a smile.</p> <p>“I was there for a while.”</p> <p>I take a breath, in, then out.</p> <p>“And you were busy taking out the CCTV during your little light reading session.”</p> <p>It hisses, vines crawling up my legs.<br/> I resist the instinctual urge to kick them off.</p> <p>“You know what your security would have done to me if they found me in there. I knew you would increase security afterwards. I knew what a mess it'd be. I spent my time <em>wisely.</em>”</p> <p>I nod.</p> <p>“You’re certainly slippery, yes, admirably so. You know… I could always just start leaving books in the vents.”</p> <p>The vines slowly retract, thorns losing their edge. It looks up at me, eye narrowing.</p> <p>“But if you let me leave, now, I can arrange that. And I promise you I’ll keep this between us.”</p> <p>…Since, additionally, admitting it managed to catch me like this would certainly be career-ending, if I even had a life after the higher-ups were done interrogating me. It was assured my position would be lost, at the minimum, and its associated benefits.<br/> Its slow smile made me wonder if it knew this, too.</p> <p>"You seem awfully trusting of someone who eats your kind."</p> <p>If the mines don't take them at 25, then this thing does. What's the difference?</p> <p>"And you seem a little too trusting of someone whose job it is to track down and kill you."</p> <p>It giggles lightly, this seemingly confirming its suspicions.</p> <p>"Fine, I accept your offer. On one condition.”</p> <p>My face turns pale, despite myself. “That being?”</p> <p>“Be back here in a week. Same time.”</p> <hr/> <p>After that, I became the most avid reader the bunker’s library ever had, checking out books day in, day out.<br/> At night, I’d stick a new one in the ventilation above my sleeping chamber before I slept - Grapes of Wrath, How To Train Your Dragon, Eragon, The Scarlet Letter - and it would usually be gone by the morning.</p> <p>And always after a few days, the book would be returned -<br/> the cover freshly stained by faint, red droplets.</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="/we-ll-meet-again">We'll Meet Again</a>" by riftwqlker, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/we-ll-meet-again">https://scpwiki.com/we-ll-meet-again</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:turbo-vision-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:turbo-vision-dark</a>]] [[div style="font-family: 'Terminus', monospace;"]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] [[/div]] Today’s report: 3 dead. Same initial cause: laceration to the back of the neck, attempts at a cleanup, and traces of unknown organic matter at the edges of the injury. Same desecration: limbs removed, torso sliced apart, teeth marks in the face. Same rumors: the Flesh Flower. “Y'know the vents get loud at night. Y'all've heard it, sure. Thinkin' 'oh, s'just the shower pipes leaking or the cooling being increased or whatever.' But //I// know better.” The young worker put down his cup of distilled water, ignoring his foodpaste, leaning over the table towards his companions. I, of course, stand guard near the food trays, but lean a little to eavesdrop on a cafeteria tale I’ve yet to hear. “I've seen that Flesh Flower's face, through vent systems 76C and up through 192YY - you know, by that stupid old library? Always starting at 00:51, it’s there!” He takes a quick sip of water, his companions falling silent by now to listen. He keeps his expression entirely neutral. “Every single night, I sees those petals, sees an eye flicker to the side. It’s watching me, I swear.” Some of his companions chuckle, but most exchange nervous looks.  “And get this! It was nearly… what, 7 months ago? At lights-out, I was working on a slurry pipeline.” His companions groan. “The usual shit, yeh. But - when I popped the grating of the tube and peeked inside - //that's// when I saw it. "A deep crimson face peered back at me. Dozens of mattered eyes, they all turned to face me. Eyes on its face, eyes on the sides of its head, eyes on its neck. Its petals… framed its face… those gently swaying, blood-red tendrils, and one big eye for a face. Bloodshot and swollen, examining me. Piercing me.“ He trails off, takes a sip, then continues. Someone drops a tray, and the room falls silent, but he presses on without even flinching. I remain standing up straight, as I must. “S'not like it said nothing. Just stared at each other. Damn thing still crawls around - would recognize it anywhere! Look, I know it’s more than the rest of the flesh-floors and the growths. I've seen the look in its eyes - every damn one of them. I reckon it knows something we don't." By now, the chatter in the room has resumed. His companions slap him on the back and laugh, adding their own insightful commentary... "Would rather get merced by a fuckin' plant than fumed out underground, m'self..." ...but I find myself mulling over his words for days on end. I choose not to eat that day. The formula we're fed is fit only for the pipeheads to eat - nothing organic exists down here to eat, of course, so you get used to the taste. Mostly. I was still mulling over his words when I went to bed that night. On a whim, I peered into the air vent above my cot in my solo sleeping quarters. I saw nothing peering back, which assured me. And besides - there was a metal grating firmly bolted onto the vent. Not a chance anything would get through. But the thoughts still persisted, try as I did to use logic to dispel them. How did it manage to strike in the blind spots between cameras? Why has nobody seen it? How have the automated vent snares failed to grab it? Did they even work anymore? Did it have anything to do with the flesh growths from the mines? All these questions and more buzzed my strapping body like flies as I took a look at the crime scene. I take one more photograph of the body. This one was of a worker, still wearing their bright jacket - think I'd seen him at the cafeteria before. The killings always happened at night, and via the same method, but that was the only consistency. Where, exactly when, who… I had theories, yes, but no evidence. As the bunker’s Head of Investigations, it was in my best interest to get some answers. It was hard enough suppressing rumors in such a small community, and 3 more surprise deaths of “natural causes” would only raise more eyebrows. 33 was somewhat above the 'acceptable loss' quota for the month. That was when I decided to do some reading. I find myself most productive when inside a library. This one in particular is homely, the source of the only open flame in the bunker - a nice stone fireplace around some wicker reading chairs. I slouch slightly as I walk in, a taste of refined elegance permeating the beautiful, artificial oak and LED-filled chandeliers. It's nice, here, away from the mines and the distorted screams of the pipeheads looking for their next fix... until I realized some chimpanzee had gone ahead and scratched the oak. With a scratch that reached all the way up to the roof, no less - and… shattered the glass of a CCTV camera in the corner. Unusual. I decide to take a closer look, and spot some thorns embedded in the glass. I walk over to the counter and the librarian, walking past the desk. She glares up at me from her reading chair. “Excuse me, si-“ I place a hand behind her neck and tap 3 times, wait a moment, and tap once more. She slumps over onto the desk, face landing between the blank pages of the fake book she was reading. I tap 4 times, wait, then tap twice. “Mode: Debug. User: Stefan Riddle. Password: 8008lavender.” The woman sits up straight. “Query: Yesterday, between 20:00 and 07:00 hours. Recount disturbances.” She stares blankly ahead. “No disturbances recorded.” I sigh. “Query: Download 24CCTV to 19:23:71:1102.” I walk out from behind the desk. “Mode: Default.” She slumps down, then regains her composure, returning to her fake book and her fake life or whatever androids do. I sit down at one of the dozens of empty tables and tap on the side of my glasses. I spend a moment scrolling through the views of bookshelves and the crackling fire until I lose visual in a camera. Pausing the footage, I check my other cameras. And… aha. A vine can be seen creeping up a wall- and that’s when I heard a loud THUD, from above me, jolting me out of the video playblack. I take off my glasses as I hear another, and another. From a vent system poking out from the high ceiling. At this time of night, I know nobody is likely to be on call- and then something fell. From the vents, a mass of vines, red tentacles, and a… humanoid figure collapse in front of me. It stands, and a single eye centered in its head opens to stare at me. It instantly slams me in the chest with a tentacle, knocking me to the ground, before covering the bottom of its face with its hands. I look up at it, groaning quietly from my stunned state. It’s wearing a dress, I notice, as its ballet shoes walk a little closer. The straps are fused into its fleshy feet. Vines around it, tipped with thorny barbs and poised to strike, slowly retract, confused, as its eye widens in surprise. “Oh! There’s… usually nobody here-“ Its voice is light and feminine, in stark contrast to its gruesome appearance. I stand up and move to draw my pistol. It slams me in the gut, as I double over momentarily. “Oh, no you don’t. Sit DOWN.” It shoves me into a wicker chair, before simply sitting in front of me, vines quickly twisting and writing beneath it to form a crude seat. I almost move to stand before I see vines quickly sprout from the floor around me, with spiked thorns at their tips. As the pain subsides, I realize 3 things - I am alive, uninjured, and in //deep// shit. It stares at me, eye blinking once, twice. Its gaze moves to the tag on my shirt, then back to my face. “Security. Hmm.” The vines around it shift, then settle. “Honestly, I’m glad you had the common sense to comply. Would hate to have made a mess.” The thorny vines behind and around it fully retract, save for the ones around my feet, and I realize a fourth thing - it’s sapient, and it wants a reply. “Erm. I appreciate your… restraint.” We’d been trained for the flesh growths, and the occasional pipehead - not this. It crosses its arms over its chest, blinking a few times. “Well, first off, I’m not hungry. I was just here to finish a book about pets. Not like I can check things out - I know it’s all tracked. But I wanted to read about cats.” My sharp inhale goes unnoticed by the entity. How did it know? “First, it was hydrochloric acid, then biology, then I found something about pets, dogs… you know, I’ve already read about dogs." The entity’s eye closes briefly, eyelid curled up in a sort of smile. The petals flanking its face spread out, exposing more of its raw, red flesh to feel the air. “If I could go anywhere - be anyone - I’d want to see the surface. Own a farm.” Its eye opens, petals framing its bloodshot gaze as it consumes its entire face. “I’d have a purpose - something to work towards. I’d get to go home to something that loves me, unconditionally.” It shoots me an irritated glare. “Something that doesn’t judge me for petty things out of my control.” I neglect to mention the numerous bodies it left scattered around the station, and simply nod. It idly wipes at its bloodied dress. “There's nothing organic here to eat, anyway…" It sighs deeply. "Anyway. Doubt people like you even have ambitions, but… mind if I ask what yours might be?” I lean forward in my wicker chair, clasping my hands together. Do I ask about the books, or answer the question? Considering its current… advantage, in this situation, and my own doubt in the stopping power of my sidearm should its compliance prove fickle, I decide it is best not to antagonize. “Work for the N-UN. Help keep the peace in the places that really need it, work to make the world a better place.” Its face rips open, revealing spiraling, irregularly spinning rows of thorn-like teeth. The laugh it emits is… human. After finding my comment amusing, it leans forward similarly, gaze shifted to amusement. I raise an eyebrow, but it does not explain itself. Clearing my throat, I decide to move to the next required topic of conversation. “I’d like to hear more about what you read about.” It leans back, rolling its eye. “Oh, NOW you’re interested. I suppose you would like to know how I got in there, yes? That would be where you’re leading me?” Sharp, this one. “No, this is off-the-books. I would actually like to hear more about what you read about - other than dogs and hydrochloric acid.” Its gaze flickers from the door, to my hands, to my face, to the vent, before it finally clasps its hands together. It sighs, the silence growing more uncomfortable every moment, but it finally looks into my eyes. “About what the surface’s like. If it even exists. About the war. About serial killers. About the solar system. About the late President. About Rome. About diseases.” A smaller hole is ripped across the side of its face, revealing a smile. “I was there for a while.” I take a breath, in, then out. “And you were busy taking out the CCTV during your little light reading session.” It hisses, vines crawling up my legs. I resist the instinctual urge to kick them off. “You know what your security would have done to me if they found me in there. I knew you would increase security afterwards. I knew what a mess it'd be. I spent my time //wisely.//” I nod. “You’re certainly slippery, yes, admirably so. You know… I could always just start leaving books in the vents.” The vines slowly retract, thorns losing their edge. It looks up at me, eye narrowing. “But if you let me leave, now, I can arrange that. And I promise you I’ll keep this between us.” …Since, additionally, admitting it managed to catch me like this would certainly be career-ending, if I even had a life after the higher-ups were done interrogating me. It was assured my position would be lost, at the minimum, and its associated benefits. Its slow smile made me wonder if it knew this, too. "You seem awfully trusting of someone who eats your kind." If the mines don't take them at 25, then this thing does. What's the difference? "And you seem a little too trusting of someone whose job it is to track down and kill you." It giggles lightly, this seemingly confirming its suspicions. "Fine, I accept your offer. On one condition.” My face turns pale, despite myself. “That being?” “Be back here in a week. Same time.” -------------------------- After that, I became the most avid reader the bunker’s library ever had, checking out books day in, day out. At night, I’d stick a new one in the ventilation above my sleeping chamber before I slept - Grapes of Wrath, How To Train Your Dragon, Eragon, The Scarlet Letter - and it would usually be gone by the morning. And always after a few days, the book would be returned - the cover freshly stained by faint, red droplets. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=riftwqlker]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-11-04T17:33:00	[ "_licensebox", "featured", "first-person", "heartwarming", "post-apocalyptic", "science-fiction", "tale" ]	We'll Meet Again - SCP Foundation	51	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "featured-tale-archive-ii" ]	[]	1451296883	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/we-ll-meet-again
welcome-home-again-a-026-tale	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>“Welcome back to <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-026" target="_blank">class</a>, students! Everything is alright! Shh… stand now. The pledge begins.”</p> <p>The speaker crackled to life. I decided it was yellow. Crackling was yellow distortion; everything sparkling like shiny black beetles. Together, the class took a deep breath. Charlotte tapped her foot, and Mary Jane's glittered. Thick wool and stiff plaid; skirts and stockings rolled up and smoothed down.</p> <p><em>“We pledge allegiance<br/> To the flag<br/> And the United States of America<br/> Teach us to rule ourselves alway,<br/> Controlled and cleanly night and day;<br/> That we may bring, if need arise,<br/> No maimed or worthless sacrifice.”</em></p> <p>The screaming started. It was a good day.</p> <hr/> <p>We all have to come home at some point.</p> <p>It was tilting at the very edge of the summer; the seniors off on their big end-of-the-year trip, and us dipping our toes into adulthood, or something in the vague shape of that.</p> <p>“God, did you see Rachel and Sydney are matching outfits for the End-Of-Year dance? That’s so fucking tacky, like, seriously?” Brittany scoffed, pulling her hair out from behind where it had tucked itself into the nape of her neck. It smoothed over her shoulder, before springing to life with the power of hairspray.</p> <p>“Honestly?” Azalea said, snapping open her compact mirror to check her eyeliner for the second time. “BFF goals.”</p> <p>“Whatevs. You two are <em>not</em> going to do that, or I swear to God I will disown you bitches,” Brittany stared me and Azalea down, with such a disgusted look that we both burst out laughing.</p> <p>“Now we have to. You’ve given us no choice,” I said dramatically, as we turned the first corner into the English hall, and started walking down to Mrs. Watson’s room.</p> <p>“I swear to god,” Brittany repeated, shaking her head in exasperation.</p> <p>“You think <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/interview-log-026-01" target="_blank">Mr. Brown</a> will try to come dance again?” I asked, remembering with a shudder certain events from the last Homecoming that shall not be described.</p> <p>“<em>What</em>? Principal Brown? You have to be tripping. Zalea, tell me Nikki is tripping.”</p> <p>“Nope,” Azalea said, the same expression of distantly remembered horror in her eyes. “He actually did. Breakdancing, Matthews, he was breakdancing.”</p> <p>“Mr Brown the B-Boy,” I echoed, turning the first corner into the English hall, and falling to the back as we walked.</p> <p>“That’s it,” Brittany threw her hands up. “I give up. I’m getting Zack to sneak me into his End-Of-Year Dance. <em>This</em> will not stand in the House of Brittany Matthews. This is a Brown-Boy free zone.”</p> <p>We laughed, passing a group of nerds (Rolling a 20 for <em>never getting a girlfriend</em>, said Azalea) and turning the first corner into the English hall. Brittany waved us off. “Byeeee!” She had Quantum Entanglement with Mr Stewart; and we walked in.</p> <p>Chelsea “Cello” Strong sat in the empty spot next to me, sketching out thick lines into a battered sketchbook. I bit my lip, as Mrs. Watson cleared her throat for attendance. Cello’s bangs were shiny and layered, her eyes lined and lips full. She made my head spin. “Hey.”</p> <p>“What is it?” she asked, sighing. I gave a thumbs up. “Groovy. You?”</p> <p>“Dogshit. More bad dreams,” she flipped her sketchbook, tapping a charcoal drawing of a hallway that stretched forever. I recognised it with a surprise as one of the upper floor halls from a rough outline of Mr Erwin’s Chemistry posters hanging on one of the open doors. Scribbles like graffiti caked over the corners, making it look old and foggy. “School, but it never ended.” She shrugged. At least it’s good inspiration.”</p> <p>I nodded, pulling out my well-highlighted copy of Nicholas Nickleby from my worn bag. “Hells yeah. Uh. You’re… you’re good at art.” I blushed.</p> <p>She cracked a smile, and my stomach flopped. “Thanks. Means a lot. Saw some of your poetry the other day, actually. In the newspaper - it’s good. You should keep writing.”</p> <p>My breath caught. “I- that was anonymous.”</p> <p>“It helps that I sit next to you in the class you wrote it in,” she returned, and my face was on fire, dear God. Taking a breath, I forced my face into an easygoing smile. “It’s gonna be a good day.”</p> <hr/> <p><em>We gave them away. Each of us gave some of ourselves. It was our home, after all. Why wouldn’t you give back to your home? If your home corrupts and eats away, if it burrows into rotten flesh- do you leave it behind?</em></p> <p><em>Of course you wouldn’t. It needs your help. Your soft fingers and gentle whispers, ever faithful.</em></p> <p><em>Don’t you want to help?</em></p> <hr/> <p>“Okay, do it again,” Brittany said, crossing her arms. Meghan giggled, kicking her legs as she sat on a vent by the stairwell.</p> <p>“I swear! Okay- watch. How many stairs are there?” Azalea pointed at the staircase, and I counted again under my breath. “15.”</p> <p>“Now, look at this.”</p> <p>Azalea began slowly walking up, her shoes clicking against the smooth tile and echoing into the corners. As she traversed to the second landing, she counted aloud, stopping at the top as she shouted “16!”. Looking down, she gave us a significant look.</p> <p>“That’s so trippy, oh my god,” Meghan said, giggling again. Her auburn curls and gelled bangs bounced as her head shook. I frowned. “Freaky deaky, man.”</p> <p>Brittany frowned deeper, narrowing her eyes. “I still think you’re faking me out. There’s no way that makes sense.”</p> <p>“Yeah, no shit. I wouldn’t be showing you if it did,” Zalea rolled her eyes, hopping up and trying to slide down the railing. I swore as she landed, something seemed to shift. Like a glitch in reality. I blinked, and it went away.</p> <p>“Hey dorks, what’s up,” Scott Malek sauntered up, giving us quizzical looks. Meghan blushed, batting her eyes at him. “Heyyy Scott.”</p> <p>“Malek!” Azalea shouted, waving him over and sticking her hands to her hips. “Walk up these stairs and tell me how many there are.”</p> <p>“What?” Scott ran a hand over his choppy blond hair. “This some kinda prank? Look, ladies, I really ain’t interes-”</p> <p>“Just do it,” Brittany snapped, glaring at Azalea. I stepped back, hoping I could remove myself from the crossfire if one started up.</p> <p>Scott hesitated, considered it, then shrugged. “Alright.” He cautiously strode up, stopping at the top. “16. That all you need?”</p> <p>“Nope,” Azalea ordered, gaze already glittering with triumph. “Count them, and tell me how many there are now.”</p> <p>“Bottom step and top step includ-” he started to ask, before Azalea cut him off with a sharp “Obviously!”</p> <p>He quickly counted, and returned with a slightly confused tremor- “15. That’s not right. What? That’s not right.”</p> <p>“I know,” Azalea tilted her chin up, knowing she won. Brittany pulled a face. “That is so not right.”</p> <p>I shivered, interrupting. “Let’s find somewhere else to work, then. This place gives me heebie-jeebies. Plus, Meghan, you still need a dance date, and we sure as hell aren’t finding one here.”</p> <p>“Agreed. This is freaking me out, dudes. Bad vibes to the max,” Scott shuddered, and I sympathised with him.</p> <p>Azalea scoffed, but turned to leave with us. “You guys are <em>so</em> lame.”</p> <hr/> <p><em>We all gave something. The seniors were too far away to come back, but even they <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2316" target="_blank">drowned</a> themselves in time, pushing their names deep into the water<br/> until they bubbled up as still as ice.</em></p> <p><em>We gave our names into the walls, wrote them down and let them spill out and across. None of us are dead. We’re wide awake inside the walls. It’s your mind that wants us to sleep forever.</em></p> <p><em>But we can make you sleep forever too.</em></p> <hr/> <p>“You good, Nicole?” Azalea looked at me worriedly, as I swayed silently under the disco-lights and tacky streamers. She swirled around her punch cup, giving it a suspicious look. “This isn’t spiked, right?”</p> <p>“No,” I assured her. “Just queasy.”</p> <p>Brittany had, despite her claims, decided to drag Zack to <em>our</em> dance instead, and was now boogieing her heart out as he helplessly tried to keep up. Meghan and Taylor Murphy were swaying together at the auditorium edge, Meghan giggling-</p> <p>No. Wait. That wasn’t right. I furrowed my brow. “Hadn’t Meghan said she was going with Scott Malek?” I asked. Azalea gave me a look. “I don’t know who that is. You sure you ain’t tripping? Maybe you should get some air, Nikki.”</p> <p>“No- there was- I-” but as I tried to picture Scott in my head, it slipped away. I blinked, confused. My head hurt, my hands trembling as I tried to focus. What had I been saying?</p> <p>“Yeah- I- I’m going to go do that.” I shook my head, and stood up. Azalea shot me one more concerned glance as I stumbled towards the doors leading outside. I ignored her, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and not bumping into any of the other students.</p> <p>The night air felt cool and sharp on my skin. I shivered, taking in a few deep, gulping breaths, steadying myself out into a straight line. I paced down the concrete strip between the brick wall of the school, and the green of the lawn. I heard the auditorium doors close, and jumped, looking up and freezing as I saw Cello stepping onto the lawn. I froze, legs shaking slightly. “Shit!”</p> <p>“Sorry. Did I catch you at the wrong-?” she started, seeming nervous, and I shook my head. “No, no! It’s good.”</p> <p>“Gotcha,” she nodded, and pulled a cigarette pack from her pocket. I watched as she lit one, placing it between her lips and drawing in a breath. It was hypnotic. She was hypnotic. “Saw you leave and wanted to make sure you didn’t get killed. Son of Sam and all that.” She laughed, and I laughed too because it felt right.</p> <p>“Okay. So,” she continued. “You know how many cigarettes are in a pack?’</p> <p>I shook my head. “No.”</p> <p>“Twenty,” she responded. “I’ve smoked one a day ever since I’ve bought this pack. Do you wanna know when I bought it?”</p> <p>She showed me the pack. One was left.</p> <p>“Eighteen days ago?” I guessed.</p> <p>“I don’t remember. All I remember is this- one last cigarette.” She held it up consideringly, then put it back into the box, tucking it back into her ripped black dress. “All that to say- there’s something really fucking weird about this place.”</p> <p>I tried to focus on what she was saying. “Weird?”</p> <p>“Yeah. I mean, what’s the last conversation you had with your Mom?”</p> <p>I thought, and furrowed my brow as my mind hit a wall. Surely I should know this. “I… don’t know.”</p> <p>“Right,” she turned to me. “But now you do. We know what’s going on.”</p> <p>“Right,” I echoed. She was so fucking close. My heart pounded, my mouth dry.</p> <p>“And now,” she took my hand. “We know how to wake up. It’s our bodies, our names. Everything you write and say? It feeds it.”</p> <p>The truth creeps in on thin legs and it burrows. This day is not the End-Of-Year Dance. This day won’t end anything. <em>This place stopped learning how to end things. It forgot how to tie together time. It’s stasis.</em> And these gaps? <em>This is the static.</em> My heart pounded, as reality poured through gaps into my mind, words streaming like light through the canopies of dead and blackened trees, onto rotten earth. “Chelsea…” my voice caught. “I can’t wake up.”</p> <p>“I know.”</p> <p>Blackened words were pouring from her eyes, from her mouth, down onto her skin. The sun does not shine upon this fair earth, mirth that has no bitter springs, in the land of our birth, the children used to sing. Amalgamations of Dickenson and Kipling, turned into a poem that streaked down her arms.</p> <p>I kissed her.</p> <p>Lips pressing firm together under the night sky; hair blowing free towards the stars; our home. The ink would blot the stars away, so they would not see us. So no more light could fog our minds with a finer truth. Her lips parted, flooding my mouth with ink. On the dance floor, Meghan was bleeding from her wrists, from her stomach. Azalea was already dead, a fish out of water too long. I choked on black liquor, cold and burning.</p> <p>And there I was shredded into pieces.</p> <p>And there I am home.</p> <p>It was a good day.</p> <hr/> <p><em>You fell asleep inside their arms, and your feet touch down to cold bones. Cello strings weep black ink, streaming down the walls from the cracked ceilings. The tiled floor runs in straight hard lines, down an endless hall, pinching into a black door.</em></p> <p><em>You can’t tell whether you’ve gone colourblind, or whether the colour had simply never touched this shallow grave from the start.</em></p> <p><em>Shadows flicker at your vision's edge, like static over an old film reel. Paper floods from the distant mouth, as ‘door’ doesn’t seem right anymore, flapping down the hall in a flurry as if being blown. The ink drips onto them, dancing and twisting into writing, drawings.</em></p> <p><em>Into songs.</em></p> <p><em>The cello weeps, and the ink pours into your eyes, your paper body crumbling.</em></p> <p><em>You will sleep forever; and this is your Home.</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="/welcome-home-again-a-026-tale">Welcome Home Again</a>" by Dr Vikki Lost, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/welcome-home-again-a-026-tale">https://scpwiki.com/welcome-home-again-a-026-tale</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]] [[/>]] “Welcome back to [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-026 class], students! Everything is alright! Shh… stand now. The pledge begins.” The speaker crackled to life. I decided it was yellow. Crackling was yellow distortion; everything sparkling like shiny black beetles. Together, the class took a deep breath. Charlotte tapped her foot, and Mary Jane's glittered. Thick wool and stiff plaid; skirts and stockings rolled up and smoothed down. //“We pledge allegiance To the flag And the United States of America Teach us to rule ourselves alway, Controlled and cleanly night and day; That we may bring, if need arise, No maimed or worthless sacrifice.”// The screaming started. It was a good day. ------ We all have to come home at some point. It was tilting at the very edge of the summer; the seniors off on their big end-of-the-year trip, and us dipping our toes into adulthood, or something in the vague shape of that. “God, did you see Rachel and Sydney are matching outfits for the End-Of-Year dance? That’s so fucking tacky, like, seriously?” Brittany scoffed, pulling her hair out from behind where it had tucked itself into the nape of her neck. It smoothed over her shoulder, before springing to life with the power of hairspray. “Honestly?” Azalea said, snapping open her compact mirror to check her eyeliner for the second time. “BFF goals.” “Whatevs. You two are //not// going to do that, or I swear to God I will disown you bitches,” Brittany stared me and Azalea down, with such a disgusted look that we both burst out laughing. “Now we have to. You’ve given us no choice,” I said dramatically, as we turned the first corner into the English hall, and started walking down to Mrs. Watson’s room. “I swear to god,” Brittany repeated, shaking her head in exasperation. “You think [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/interview-log-026-01 Mr. Brown] will try to come dance again?” I asked, remembering with a shudder certain events from the last Homecoming that shall not be described. “//What//? Principal Brown? You have to be tripping. Zalea, tell me Nikki is tripping.” “Nope,” Azalea said, the same expression of distantly remembered horror in her eyes. “He actually did. Breakdancing, Matthews, he was breakdancing.” “Mr Brown the B-Boy,” I echoed, turning the first corner into the English hall, and falling to the back as we walked. “That’s it,” Brittany threw her hands up. “I give up. I’m getting Zack to sneak me into his End-Of-Year Dance. //This// will not stand in the House of Brittany Matthews. This is a Brown-Boy free zone.” We laughed, passing a group of nerds (Rolling a 20 for //never getting a girlfriend//, said Azalea) and turning the first corner into the English hall. Brittany waved us off. “Byeeee!” She had Quantum Entanglement with Mr Stewart; and we walked in. Chelsea “Cello” Strong sat in the empty spot next to me, sketching out thick lines into a battered sketchbook. I bit my lip, as Mrs. Watson cleared her throat for attendance. Cello’s bangs were shiny and layered, her eyes lined and lips full. She made my head spin. “Hey.” “What is it?” she asked, sighing. I gave a thumbs up. “Groovy. You?” “Dogshit. More bad dreams,” she flipped her sketchbook, tapping a charcoal drawing of a hallway that stretched forever. I recognised it with a surprise as one of the upper floor halls from a rough outline of Mr Erwin’s Chemistry posters hanging on one of the open doors. Scribbles like graffiti caked over the corners, making it look old and foggy. “School, but it never ended.” She shrugged. At least it’s good inspiration.” I nodded, pulling out my well-highlighted copy of Nicholas Nickleby from my worn bag. “Hells yeah. Uh. You’re… you’re good at art.” I blushed. She cracked a smile, and my stomach flopped. “Thanks. Means a lot. Saw some of your poetry the other day, actually. In the newspaper - it’s good. You should keep writing.” My breath caught. “I- that was anonymous.” “It helps that I sit next to you in the class you wrote it in,” she returned, and my face was on fire, dear God. Taking a breath, I forced my face into an easygoing smile. “It’s gonna be a good day.” ------ //We gave them away. Each of us gave some of ourselves. It was our home, after all. Why wouldn’t you give back to your home? If your home corrupts and eats away, if it burrows into rotten flesh- do you leave it behind?// //Of course you wouldn’t. It needs your help. Your soft fingers and gentle whispers, ever faithful.// //Don’t you want to help?// ------ “Okay, do it again,” Brittany said, crossing her arms. Meghan giggled, kicking her legs as she sat on a vent by the stairwell. “I swear! Okay- watch. How many stairs are there?” Azalea pointed at the staircase, and I counted again under my breath. “15.” “Now, look at this.” Azalea began slowly walking up, her shoes clicking against the smooth tile and echoing into the corners. As she traversed to the second landing, she counted aloud, stopping at the top as she shouted “16!”. Looking down, she gave us a significant look. “That’s so trippy, oh my god,” Meghan said, giggling again. Her auburn curls and gelled bangs bounced as her head shook. I frowned. “Freaky deaky, man.” Brittany frowned deeper, narrowing her eyes. “I still think you’re faking me out. There’s no way that makes sense.” “Yeah, no shit. I wouldn’t be showing you if it did,” Zalea rolled her eyes, hopping up and trying to slide down the railing. I swore as she landed, something seemed to shift. Like a glitch in reality. I blinked, and it went away. “Hey dorks, what’s up,” Scott Malek sauntered up, giving us quizzical looks. Meghan blushed, batting her eyes at him. “Heyyy Scott.” “Malek!” Azalea shouted, waving him over and sticking her hands to her hips. “Walk up these stairs and tell me how many there are.” “What?” Scott ran a hand over his choppy blond hair. “This some kinda prank? Look, ladies, I really ain’t interes-” “Just do it,” Brittany snapped, glaring at Azalea. I stepped back, hoping I could remove myself from the crossfire if one started up. Scott hesitated, considered it, then shrugged. “Alright.” He cautiously strode up, stopping at the top. “16. That all you need?” “Nope,” Azalea ordered, gaze already glittering with triumph. “Count them, and tell me how many there are now.” “Bottom step and top step includ-” he started to ask, before Azalea cut him off with a sharp “Obviously!” He quickly counted, and returned with a slightly confused tremor- “15. That’s not right. What? That’s not right.” “I know,” Azalea tilted her chin up, knowing she won. Brittany pulled a face. “That is so not right.” I shivered, interrupting. “Let’s find somewhere else to work, then. This place gives me heebie-jeebies. Plus, Meghan, you still need a dance date, and we sure as hell aren’t finding one here.” “Agreed. This is freaking me out, dudes. Bad vibes to the max,” Scott shuddered, and I sympathised with him. Azalea scoffed, but turned to leave with us. “You guys are //so// lame.” ------ //We all gave something. The seniors were too far away to come back, but even they [*https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2316 drowned] themselves in time, pushing their names deep into the water until they bubbled up as still as ice.// //We gave our names into the walls, wrote them down and let them spill out and across. None of us are dead. We’re wide awake inside the walls. It’s your mind that wants us to sleep forever.// //But we can make you sleep forever too.// ------ “You good, Nicole?” Azalea looked at me worriedly, as I swayed silently under the disco-lights and tacky streamers. She swirled around her punch cup, giving it a suspicious look. “This isn’t spiked, right?” “No,” I assured her. “Just queasy.” Brittany had, despite her claims, decided to drag Zack to //our// dance instead, and was now boogieing her heart out as he helplessly tried to keep up. Meghan and Taylor Murphy were swaying together at the auditorium edge, Meghan giggling- No. Wait. That wasn’t right. I furrowed my brow. “Hadn’t Meghan said she was going with Scott Malek?” I asked. Azalea gave me a look. “I don’t know who that is. You sure you ain’t tripping? Maybe you should get some air, Nikki.” “No- there was- I-” but as I tried to picture Scott in my head, it slipped away. I blinked, confused. My head hurt, my hands trembling as I tried to focus. What had I been saying? “Yeah- I- I’m going to go do that.” I shook my head, and stood up. Azalea shot me one more concerned glance as I stumbled towards the doors leading outside. I ignored her, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and not bumping into any of the other students. The night air felt cool and sharp on my skin. I shivered, taking in a few deep, gulping breaths, steadying myself out into a straight line. I paced down the concrete strip between the brick wall of the school, and the green of the lawn. I heard the auditorium doors close, and jumped, looking up and freezing as I saw Cello stepping onto the lawn. I froze, legs shaking slightly. “Shit!” “Sorry. Did I catch you at the wrong-?” she started, seeming nervous, and I shook my head. “No, no! It’s good.” “Gotcha,” she nodded, and pulled a cigarette pack from her pocket. I watched as she lit one, placing it between her lips and drawing in a breath. It was hypnotic. She was hypnotic. “Saw you leave and wanted to make sure you didn’t get killed. Son of Sam and all that.” She laughed, and I laughed too because it felt right. “Okay. So,” she continued. “You know how many cigarettes are in a pack?’ I shook my head. “No.” “Twenty,” she responded. “I’ve smoked one a day ever since I’ve bought this pack. Do you wanna know when I bought it?” She showed me the pack. One was left. “Eighteen days ago?” I guessed. “I don’t remember. All I remember is this- one last cigarette.” She held it up consideringly, then put it back into the box, tucking it back into her ripped black dress. “All that to say- there’s something really fucking weird about this place.” I tried to focus on what she was saying. “Weird?” “Yeah. I mean, what’s the last conversation you had with your Mom?” I thought, and furrowed my brow as my mind hit a wall. Surely I should know this. “I… don’t know.” “Right,” she turned to me. “But now you do. We know what’s going on.” “Right,” I echoed. She was so fucking close. My heart pounded, my mouth dry. “And now,” she took my hand. “We know how to wake up. It’s our bodies, our names. Everything you write and say? It feeds it.” The truth creeps in on thin legs and it burrows. This day is not the End-Of-Year Dance. This day won’t end anything. //This place stopped learning how to end things. It forgot how to tie together time. It’s stasis.// And these gaps? //This is the static.// My heart pounded, as reality poured through gaps into my mind, words streaming like light through the canopies of dead and blackened trees, onto rotten earth. “Chelsea…” my voice caught. “I can’t wake up.” “I know.” Blackened words were pouring from her eyes, from her mouth, down onto her skin. The sun does not shine upon this fair earth, mirth that has no bitter springs, in the land of our birth, the children used to sing. Amalgamations of Dickenson and Kipling, turned into a poem that streaked down her arms. I kissed her. Lips pressing firm together under the night sky; hair blowing free towards the stars; our home. The ink would blot the stars away, so they would not see us. So no more light could fog our minds with a finer truth. Her lips parted, flooding my mouth with ink. On the dance floor, Meghan was bleeding from her wrists, from her stomach. Azalea was already dead, a fish out of water too long. I choked on black liquor, cold and burning. And there I was shredded into pieces. And there I am home. It was a good day. ------ //You fell asleep inside their arms, and your feet touch down to cold bones. Cello strings weep black ink, streaming down the walls from the cracked ceilings. The tiled floor runs in straight hard lines, down an endless hall, pinching into a black door.// //You can’t tell whether you’ve gone colourblind, or whether the colour had simply never touched this shallow grave from the start.// //Shadows flicker at your vision's edge, like static over an old film reel. Paper floods from the distant mouth, as ‘door’ doesn’t seem right anymore, flapping down the hall in a flurry as if being blown. The ink drips onto them, dancing and twisting into writing, drawings.// //Into songs.// //The cello weeps, and the ink pours into your eyes, your paper body crumbling.// //You will sleep forever; and this is your Home.// [[include <a href="/component:license-box">component:license-box</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:license-box-end">component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-09-13T22:34:00	[ "_licensebox", "class-of-76", "horror", "school", "tale" ]	Welcome Home Again - SCP Foundation	15	[ "scp-026", "interview-log-026-01", "scp-2316", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1449973211	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/welcome-home-again-a-026-tale
welcome-to-dreamland	<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> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: green"><strong>ColdWindHowling</strong></span> 22/02/22 (Weds) 12:04:17 #75784230</p> <hr/> <p>I was fiddling around on the Wayback Machine earlier and came across a defunct website registered under the name of <a href="javascript:;">www.welcometodreamland.co.uk</a>.</p> <p>From what I could tell, the Internet Archive only had a single screengrab from the website’s front page containing an assortment of poorly uploaded stills shrunken directly from their original VHS masters and a link to download their Summer 1997 brochure. The site claimed to own the world’s <strong>longest</strong> roller coaster, but I’m from the UK myself, and I’ve never even heard of Dreamland before.</p> <p>I've attached the images to the post, but is there anyone here that's at all familiar with this website?</p> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Helter-Skelter.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/welcome-to-dreamland/Helter-Skelter.png" style="width:100%;"/> <div class="scp-image-caption" style="width:100%;"> <p>Helter-Skelter.</p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Sinkhole.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/welcome-to-dreamland/Sinkhole.png" style="width:100%;"/> <div class="scp-image-caption" style="width:100%;"> <p>Sinkhole.</p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>EmleyMoorMysteries</strong></span> 23/02/22 (Thurs) 00:31:54 #76967254</p> <hr/> <p>I’m quite familiar with <em>Dreamland</em>. I have a certain fascination with failed and abandoned theme parks. I think it’s that unique intersection between the macabre scenery of peeling paintwork, rotten upholstery, and decaying infrastructure combined with the unsettling atmosphere found in a location that should be filled with the excited laughter of kids and adults, only to be greeted with deafening silence.</p> <p>For each Disneyland, there's a dozen Crinkley Bottoms, and a theme park can fail for any number of reasons; ranging from financial insolvency and administration issues, to bad locations and poor design choices, to catastrophic accidents that linger over the park long after the wreckage settles. But once a theme park begins to fail, there’s not much hope in saving it. Joint-venture companies will intervene, pouring millions of dollars into these failing businesses, just for it to barely be enough for the park to remain afloat, eventually abandoning them to sink back down into their own stagnant filth.</p> <p>This pattern has played itself out throughout history from country to country, and even the giants of the amusement park industry aren’t immune to these failings. Six Flags New Orleans never recovered from the devastation left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, and insurance companies urged Six Flags to default upon the park’s assets. Even Disney’s own River Country ran afoul of these mistakes, and would become the subject of a creepypasta owing to its foreboding atmosphere and derelict aesthetic.</p> <p>However, there is one theme park that stands apart from all others. First opening its doors to the general public in 1994, <em>Dreamland</em> is the outlier of abandoned theme parks. Most people I’ve spoken to are only familiar with the surface aspects of <em>Dreamland</em> — just another seaside theme park that entered into administration caused by the shrinking of the British tourist industry — but the mysterious events occurring throughout the park’s short history have since fuelled countless urban legends.</p> <p>To begin, I must start with a brief history lesson. Throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s, the residential British holiday industry entered a period of substantial decline owing to stiff competition from budget European airlines offering package summer holiday deals throughout the continent. British seaside theme parks, heavily subsidised by foot traffic from seaside resort holiday makers throughout the long British summer, were faced with a significant loss in their annual revenues. Dreamland was just one of many theme parks that sold off their infrastructure, amusements, and rides to balance their budgets and remain open to the public.</p> <p>By the late ‘80s, Dreamland was a hollow shell of its former self — an empty, lifeless husk — and in the early ‘90s, the park’s owners were bought out by an unlisted joint-venture company. Redevelopment began in earnest in 1991 on the site of the original Dreamland, located in the sleepy seaside town of Margate, Kent. The new and improved <em>Dreamland</em> promised to “make your wildest dreams a reality”, with the grand reopening slated for summer 1994. The new owners promised state of the art facilities exploring themes of dreams and liminality, whilst transgressing the boundaries of the irrealis.</p> <p>Local media outlets rushed to be the first to run publications on the immediate financial success of <em>Dreamland</em>, reportedly having generated hundreds of jobs for local residents, and latched onto the park’s potential to reverse Margate’s interminable economic downturn. Ticket sales bloomed throughout summer and into autumn, bringing tourists in from across the United Kingdom by rail, car, and bus — all eager to share the unmissable experiences offered by <em>Dreamland</em>.</p> <p>However, it is here that we must address the first peculiarity surrounding <em>Dreamland</em>. Whilst the park was prolifically featured in the local newspapers and radio shows, it went virtually unremarked upon by the major national news networks. Instead, news of <em>Dreamland</em> was initially spread by word of mouth from one excited thrill-seeker to another, eventually going on to capture the imaginations of millions of British holidaymakers by public notoriety alone.</p> <p>By 1995, the park was named as one of the top ten most visited tourist attractions in the British Isles, despite Chessington World of Adventures and Thorpe Park both being located closer to London, and being situated along cheaper, more popular rail routes. At this point, the meteoric success of <em>Dreamland</em> was all but a certainty. Due to the rapid pace of the park’s expansion, regular inspections and audits were ordered by the local council, but only surface details of these technical written reports were even made public. Needless to say, the town councillors were more than satisfied by <em>Dreamland</em>'s invigoration of Margate’s local economy.</p> <p>The opportunity to get lost in your own imagination was a major unique selling point of the park’s brand. <em>Dreamland</em> pioneered the use of rudimentary mixed reality technologies within theme parks. Stereoscopic and anaglyph 3D glasses were combined with surround sound throughout the park to create an immersive experience for the attendee, and all of the latest rides were fitted with ambitious technological innovations.</p> <p>New attractions were opened throughout the financial quarters of each year to ensure public interest in the park remained at an all time high. The <em>Dreamland Experience</em> was a looping, timber-frame roller coaster which opened for just two weeks in 1995. It was allegedly built using parts and wood from the Scenic Railway, another timber roller coaster which had been the main attraction of the original Dreamland, but tragically burnt down in a catastrophic fire in 1971 whilst the ride was in-operation. <em>Night Mare Hideaway</em> was a dark ride attraction consisting of a series of glass rooms which supposedly changed their orientation and displays to match and enhance the attendee’s emotional states.</p> <p>The two rides featured on the park’s website, <em>Sinkhole</em> and <em>Helter-Skelter</em>, were some of the last attractions to ever be opened at <em>Dreamland</em>. <em>Sinkhole</em> was an immense drop-tower that was supposedly built over a sinkhole that had begun forming underneath the site over the course of 1996 and sent riders plunging into the depths of the park’s subterranean structures, though the story behind the ride’s name was most likely a publicity stunt. On the other hand, <em>Helter-Skelter</em> was the longest steel-frame roller coaster in the entire world according to <em>Dreamland</em>.</p> <p>In 1997, only three short years after its grand opening, the doors to <em>Dreamland</em> were closed forever. The amusement park’s newest attractions, including <em>Sinkhole</em> and <em>Helter-Skelter</em>, were torn down and the park was paved over with concrete, redeveloping the site into commercial car parking overnight.</p> <p>No explanations were ever offered by the administrators of <em>Dreamland</em> regarding the park’s abrupt closure, and it wasn’t long before rumours of foul play began circulating within the usual recesses of the internet. Allegations of chronic understaffing, workplace bullying, financial misconduct, and preventable park accidents were all levelled towards <em>Dreamland</em> on IRC servers, message boards, and forum posts, but none of these claims were ever substantiated.</p> <p>Official documentation on the park is sparse, and the few national media reports referencing the park rarely contain direct citations or sources. Lawyers representing <em>Dreamland</em> soon began filing injunctions against local media outlets regarding libellous statements, and a series of repossession orders were made out to the local council for allegedly mislaying confidential documents belonging to <em>Dreamland</em> within the public archives of Margate Library. In the following years, it would become apparent why the owners of <em>Dreamland</em> had attempted to cover up the park’s history.</p> <p>Accidents and technical issues within the rides were commonplace with rides frequently being closed off to the public beneath thick tarpaulin sheets, and entire zones of the park were cordoned off from the general public behind security tape and hazard cones. Ambiguous details have since resurfaced about the secrecy surrounding an accident on the park’s site involving the <em>Dreamland Experience</em> wherein five adults were killed and numerous other riders were seriously injured by the thirteen other riders. Speculation arose within the media and local residents, but it was quickly silenced by a low-profile investigation undertaken by Kent Police which concluded that the riders had been at fault for the accident as they demonstrated reckless and careless actions which endangered their own lives.</p> <p>Living only a short distance from Margate by rail, I’ve since visited the abandoned site of <em>Dreamland</em> several times. Over twenty years later, the only conclusive evidence for <em>Dreamland</em>’s prior occupation of the grounds is the ghastly corpse of Britain’s oldest roller coaster, a serpentine spine of rotting timber and peeling leaded paint looming large over the picturesque seaside town, and the dilapidated red-brick building hosting the now-boarded over entrance to the park. The stained impression of the park’s name lingers as faint pink lettering smeared into the edifice of crumbling brickwork.</p> <p>I have a somewhat personal relationship with <em>Dreamland</em>. My family would regularly take trips to the park throughout the early ‘80s, and after I was born, the entire family made one last trip to <em>Dreamland</em> in 1995. I was only a child and I haven’t the faintest recollection of <em>Dreamland</em>; only a hypnagogic haze of lost memories. The strange thing is that nobody I've ever spoken to has any solid recollection of <em>Dreamland</em> either.</p> <p>When I’ve attempted to question local residents about the park, they speak of <em>Dreamland</em> with distant familiarity and reassure themselves that the park certainly was something fancy during the mid ‘90s, but by no means anything remarkable. For all intents and purposes, <em>Dreamland</em> appears to have come and gone without leaving the faintest impression upon the world.</p> <p>This faint recollection of <em>Dreamland</em> was the reason that I joined the scores of amateur theme park enthusiasts making concerted efforts to preserve any memory of the park. As news of the park’s censorship reached the public, modern internet users have since taken upon themselves to ensure the memories of <em>Dreamland</em> are not obfuscated by the corporate body that once owned the park — all too eager to bury their mistakes in the past. The screengrab of www.welcometodreamland.co.uk was one of the earliest documents preserved by the internet. However, there is an even earlier physical artefact of <em>Dreamland</em> which predates that archive.</p> <p>Recall the rumoured events surrounding the closure of the <em>Dreamland Experience</em>? According to the police investigation, one of the riders was ejected from the ride and their head became trapped between the rail tracks and the chain mechanism which propelled the roller coaster carts along the timber track. As the operator attempted to reverse the mechanism, allowing the injured occupants of the rear carts to safely return to the embarking point, the skin of the rider’s face was torn away from the skull by the force applied as the chains slowly began to reverse. A morgue report from the Scenic Railway accident in 1971 that was presented as evidence in a civil case describes a similar injury being inflicted upon a passenger that died when the timber frame of the roller coaster caught fire.</p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><span style="color: red"><strong>EmleyMoorMysteries</strong></span> 23/02/22 (Thurs) 00:32:24 #76967255</p> <hr/> <p>In the last few years, I'd come into the possession of a collection of old photograph albums that had been kept in the loft by my parents. One of those albums contained a series of photographs taken by my parents when they attended <em>Dreamland</em> in 1995, but the pictures had remained undeveloped. I took the following photograph of my father riding on the <em>Dreamland Experience</em> to be professionally developed by a friend in 2017.</p> <p>To this day, my mother insists that there was nobody sitting next to or behind my father when the polaroid photograph was taken.</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="/welcome-to-dreamland">Welcome to Dreamland</a>" by Cyvstvi, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/welcome-to-dreamland">https://scpwiki.com/welcome-to-dreamland</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> Helter-Skelter.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Millennium Force (Cedar Point) 06.JPG<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Coasterman1234<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Millennium_Force_(Cedar_Point)_06.JPG">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Sinkhole.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Freefall_moviepark.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Schue~commonswiki<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Freefall_moviepark.png">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> TheDreamlandExperience.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Scenic Railway 2.tif<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Iheartcabbage<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Scenic_Railway_2.tif">Wikimedia Commons</a><br/> <strong>Additional Notes:</strong> Edited by <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=1728453865" 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>.</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:creepypasta">:scp-wiki:theme:creepypasta</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > ##green\|ColdWindHowling## 22/02/22 (Weds) 12:04:17 #75784230 > ---- > I was fiddling around on the Wayback Machine earlier and came across a defunct website registered under the name of [# www.welcometodreamland.co.uk]. > > From what I could tell, the Internet Archive only had a single screengrab from the website’s front page containing an assortment of poorly uploaded stills shrunken directly from their original VHS masters and a link to download their Summer 1997 brochure. The site claimed to own the world’s longest roller coaster, but I’m from the UK myself, and I’ve never even heard of Dreamland before. > > I've attached the images to the post, but is there anyone here that's at all familiar with this website? > [[div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"]] > [[image Helter-Skelter.png style="width:100%;" link=#]] > [[div class="scp-image-caption" style="width:100%;"]] > Helter-Skelter. > [[/div]] > [[/div]] > @@ @@ > [[div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"]] > [[image Sinkhole.png style="width:100%;" link=#]] > [[div class="scp-image-caption" style="width:100%;"]] > Sinkhole. > [[/div]] > [[/div]] > @@ @@ > ##red\|EmleyMoorMysteries## 23/02/22 (Thurs) 00:31:54 #76967254 > ---- > I’m quite familiar with //Dreamland//. I have a certain fascination with failed and abandoned theme parks. I think it’s that unique intersection between the macabre scenery of peeling paintwork, rotten upholstery, and decaying infrastructure combined with the unsettling atmosphere found in a location that should be filled with the excited laughter of kids and adults, only to be greeted with deafening silence. > > For each Disneyland, there's a dozen Crinkley Bottoms, and a theme park can fail for any number of reasons; ranging from financial insolvency and administration issues, to bad locations and poor design choices, to catastrophic accidents that linger over the park long after the wreckage settles. But once a theme park begins to fail, there’s not much hope in saving it. Joint-venture companies will intervene, pouring millions of dollars into these failing businesses, just for it to barely be enough for the park to remain afloat, eventually abandoning them to sink back down into their own stagnant filth. > > This pattern has played itself out throughout history from country to country, and even the giants of the amusement park industry aren’t immune to these failings. Six Flags New Orleans never recovered from the devastation left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, and insurance companies urged Six Flags to default upon the park’s assets. Even Disney’s own River Country ran afoul of these mistakes, and would become the subject of a creepypasta owing to its foreboding atmosphere and derelict aesthetic. > > However, there is one theme park that stands apart from all others. First opening its doors to the general public in 1994, //Dreamland// is the outlier of abandoned theme parks. Most people I’ve spoken to are only familiar with the surface aspects of //Dreamland// — just another seaside theme park that entered into administration caused by the shrinking of the British tourist industry — but the mysterious events occurring throughout the park’s short history have since fuelled countless urban legends. > > To begin, I must start with a brief history lesson. Throughout the ‘60s and ‘70s, the residential British holiday industry entered a period of substantial decline owing to stiff competition from budget European airlines offering package summer holiday deals throughout the continent. British seaside theme parks, heavily subsidised by foot traffic from seaside resort holiday makers throughout the long British summer, were faced with a significant loss in their annual revenues. Dreamland was just one of many theme parks that sold off their infrastructure, amusements, and rides to balance their budgets and remain open to the public. > > By the late ‘80s, Dreamland was a hollow shell of its former self — an empty, lifeless husk — and in the early ‘90s, the park’s owners were bought out by an unlisted joint-venture company. Redevelopment began in earnest in 1991 on the site of the original Dreamland, located in the sleepy seaside town of Margate, Kent. The new and improved //Dreamland// promised to “make your wildest dreams a reality”, with the grand reopening slated for summer 1994. The new owners promised state of the art facilities exploring themes of dreams and liminality, whilst transgressing the boundaries of the irrealis. > > Local media outlets rushed to be the first to run publications on the immediate financial success of //Dreamland//, reportedly having generated hundreds of jobs for local residents, and latched onto the park’s potential to reverse Margate’s interminable economic downturn. Ticket sales bloomed throughout summer and into autumn, bringing tourists in from across the United Kingdom by rail, car, and bus — all eager to share the unmissable experiences offered by //Dreamland//. > > However, it is here that we must address the first peculiarity surrounding //Dreamland//. Whilst the park was prolifically featured in the local newspapers and radio shows, it went virtually unremarked upon by the major national news networks. Instead, news of //Dreamland// was initially spread by word of mouth from one excited thrill-seeker to another, eventually going on to capture the imaginations of millions of British holidaymakers by public notoriety alone. > > By 1995, the park was named as one of the top ten most visited tourist attractions in the British Isles, despite Chessington World of Adventures and Thorpe Park both being located closer to London, and being situated along cheaper, more popular rail routes. At this point, the meteoric success of //Dreamland// was all but a certainty. Due to the rapid pace of the park’s expansion, regular inspections and audits were ordered by the local council, but only surface details of these technical written reports were even made public. Needless to say, the town councillors were more than satisfied by //Dreamland//'s invigoration of Margate’s local economy. > > The opportunity to get lost in your own imagination was a major unique selling point of the park’s brand. //Dreamland// pioneered the use of rudimentary mixed reality technologies within theme parks. Stereoscopic and anaglyph 3D glasses were combined with surround sound throughout the park to create an immersive experience for the attendee, and all of the latest rides were fitted with ambitious technological innovations. > > New attractions were opened throughout the financial quarters of each year to ensure public interest in the park remained at an all time high. The //Dreamland Experience// was a looping, timber-frame roller coaster which opened for just two weeks in 1995. It was allegedly built using parts and wood from the Scenic Railway, another timber roller coaster which had been the main attraction of the original Dreamland, but tragically burnt down in a catastrophic fire in 1971 whilst the ride was in-operation. //Night Mare Hideaway// was a dark ride attraction consisting of a series of glass rooms which supposedly changed their orientation and displays to match and enhance the attendee’s emotional states. > > The two rides featured on the park’s website, //Sinkhole// and //Helter-Skelter//, were some of the last attractions to ever be opened at //Dreamland//. //Sinkhole// was an immense drop-tower that was supposedly built over a sinkhole that had begun forming underneath the site over the course of 1996 and sent riders plunging into the depths of the park’s subterranean structures, though the story behind the ride’s name was most likely a publicity stunt. On the other hand, //Helter-Skelter// was the longest steel-frame roller coaster in the entire world according to //Dreamland//. > > In 1997, only three short years after its grand opening, the doors to //Dreamland// were closed forever. The amusement park’s newest attractions, including //Sinkhole// and //Helter-Skelter//, were torn down and the park was paved over with concrete, redeveloping the site into commercial car parking overnight. > > No explanations were ever offered by the administrators of //Dreamland// regarding the park’s abrupt closure, and it wasn’t long before rumours of foul play began circulating within the usual recesses of the internet. Allegations of chronic understaffing, workplace bullying, financial misconduct, and preventable park accidents were all levelled towards //Dreamland// on IRC servers, message boards, and forum posts, but none of these claims were ever substantiated. > > Official documentation on the park is sparse, and the few national media reports referencing the park rarely contain direct citations or sources. Lawyers representing //Dreamland// soon began filing injunctions against local media outlets regarding libellous statements, and a series of repossession orders were made out to the local council for allegedly mislaying confidential documents belonging to //Dreamland// within the public archives of Margate Library. In the following years, it would become apparent why the owners of //Dreamland// had attempted to cover up the park’s history. > > Accidents and technical issues within the rides were commonplace with rides frequently being closed off to the public beneath thick tarpaulin sheets, and entire zones of the park were cordoned off from the general public behind security tape and hazard cones. Ambiguous details have since resurfaced about the secrecy surrounding an accident on the park’s site involving the //Dreamland Experience// wherein five adults were killed and numerous other riders were seriously injured by the thirteen other riders. Speculation arose within the media and local residents, but it was quickly silenced by a low-profile investigation undertaken by Kent Police which concluded that the riders had been at fault for the accident as they demonstrated reckless and careless actions which endangered their own lives. > > Living only a short distance from Margate by rail, I’ve since visited the abandoned site of //Dreamland// several times. Over twenty years later, the only conclusive evidence for //Dreamland//’s prior occupation of the grounds is the ghastly corpse of Britain’s oldest roller coaster, a serpentine spine of rotting timber and peeling leaded paint looming large over the picturesque seaside town, and the dilapidated red-brick building hosting the now-boarded over entrance to the park. The stained impression of the park’s name lingers as faint pink lettering smeared into the edifice of crumbling brickwork. > > I have a somewhat personal relationship with //Dreamland//. My family would regularly take trips to the park throughout the early ‘80s, and after I was born, the entire family made one last trip to //Dreamland// in 1995. I was only a child and I haven’t the faintest recollection of //Dreamland//; only a hypnagogic haze of lost memories. The strange thing is that nobody I've ever spoken to has any solid recollection of //Dreamland// either. > > When I’ve attempted to question local residents about the park, they speak of //Dreamland// with distant familiarity and reassure themselves that the park certainly was something fancy during the mid ‘90s, but by no means anything remarkable. For all intents and purposes, //Dreamland// appears to have come and gone without leaving the faintest impression upon the world. > > This faint recollection of //Dreamland// was the reason that I joined the scores of amateur theme park enthusiasts making concerted efforts to preserve any memory of the park. As news of the park’s censorship reached the public, modern internet users have since taken upon themselves to ensure the memories of //Dreamland// are not obfuscated by the corporate body that once owned the park — all too eager to bury their mistakes in the past. The screengrab of www.welcometodreamland.co.uk was one of the earliest documents preserved by the internet. However, there is an even earlier physical artefact of //Dreamland// which predates that archive. > > Recall the rumoured events surrounding the closure of the //Dreamland Experience//? According to the police investigation, one of the riders was ejected from the ride and their head became trapped between the rail tracks and the chain mechanism which propelled the roller coaster carts along the timber track. As the operator attempted to reverse the mechanism, allowing the injured occupants of the rear carts to safely return to the embarking point, the skin of the rider’s face was torn away from the skull by the force applied as the chains slowly began to reverse. A morgue report from the Scenic Railway accident in 1971 that was presented as evidence in a civil case describes a similar injury being inflicted upon a passenger that died when the timber frame of the roller coaster caught fire. > ##red\|EmleyMoorMysteries## 23/02/22 (Thurs) 00:32:24 #76967255 > ---- > In the last few years, I'd come into the possession of a collection of old photograph albums that had been kept in the loft by my parents. One of those albums contained a series of photographs taken by my parents when they attended //Dreamland// in 1995, but the pictures had remained undeveloped. I took the following photograph of my father riding on the //Dreamland Experience// to be professionally developed by a friend in 2017. > > [[div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"]] > [[image TheDreamlandExperience.png style="width:100%;" link=#]] > [[/div]] > > To this day, my mother insists that there was nobody sitting next to or behind my father when the polaroid photograph was taken. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: Helter-Skelter.png > Name: Millennium Force (Cedar Point) 06.JPG > Author: Coasterman1234 > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Millennium_Force_(Cedar_Point)_06.JPG Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: Sinkhole.png > Name: Freefall_moviepark.png > Author: Schue~commonswiki > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Freefall_moviepark.png Wikimedia Commons] > Filename: TheDreamlandExperience.png > Name: Scenic Railway 2.tif > Author: Iheartcabbage > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Scenic_Railway_2.tif Wikimedia Commons] > Additional Notes: Edited by [[*user Cyvstvi]]. ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-03-08T19:34:00	[ "_licensebox", "correspondence", "creepypasta", "featured", "mystery", "parawatch", "tale" ]	Welcome to Dreamland - SCP Foundation	107	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "discovering-scp-hub", "parawatch-hub", "featured-goi-format-archive", "creepy-pasta" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/welcome-to-dreamland/Helter-Skelter.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/welcome-to-dreamland/Sinkhole.png" ]	1446600598	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/welcome-to-dreamland
welcome-to-todays-episode	<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 style="text-align: center;">Welcome to Todays Episode</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Author: Commluke1</p> <p style="text-align: center;">Published on the 3rd of August 2023</p> <p style="text-align: center;">A 10 minute read (2000 words)</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7446">▸ 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> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <hr/> <blockquote> <p><strong>Please Note</strong><br/> This Tale/Play was written in the summer as a one off and is meant to be<br/> performed live by a small group of people in a theater as a <strong>short</strong> prior to a longer play.<br/> It can still, however, be enjoyed by simply reading it.<br/> Thank you and please enjoy.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>Characters</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>D-Class 2882 "Lily"</strong> - Female, Should wear all orange or all red, alternatively a black and white pattern also works. The clothing of all three "Class-D's" should match. Lily is the most energetic and smartest of the trio and the defacto leader of the group. Her hair should be kept similar to that of the other Class-D's.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>D-Class 3032 "Robert"</strong> - Male, Should wear all orange or all red, alternatively a black and white pattern also works. The clothing of all three "Class-D's" should match. Robert is the most ruthless and the strongest of the group.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>D-Class 4832 "Liser"</strong> - Male, Should wear all orange or all red, alternatively a black and white pattern also works. The clothing of all three "Class-D's" should match. Liser is the support of the group, often bringing the others when they are feeling down. He is valued and often dragged along by the other two, despite not having too many practical skills. No details on his hair.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>The Announcer</strong> - Any Gender. Never physically appearing in the play, instead being a voice pulling the strings of SCP-024, speaking in a loud, commanding and energetic voice like a gameshow host to the contestants.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>Prop Items</strong><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Fake gun (Inside a Backpack)<br/> Ticket<br/> Several desks or other barrier like structures<br/> Several chairs or other obstacles that can be stood on</p> </blockquote> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>START</strong></p> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Curtains open on a dark stage with a single light illuminating stage-left acting as a door<br/> while characters can be heard speaking.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>Dammit, how did we get ourselves into this mess.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Let’s just get this over with, I just wanna do my time, after that I'm buying a one way ticket to Fiji.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Yeah, that's probably best… What do you think will happen to us after this?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>I think it'll be straight forward, we get through it, then they probably move us to another facility, the Foundation must have hundreds of these things around the world.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>Yeah or maybe we die in the game, or get killed off as soon as it's over. Think about it, if they locked this thing up and are only letting criminals interact with it, it must be dangerous.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>I don't know exactly what's in there but Jake spread rumors before they took him and threw him into the game. Rumors that you could win prizes, even freedom from the Foundation.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Alright then. It’s not like we really have a choice when we have guns pointed to our heads.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Liser, Lily and Robert enter onto the illuminated area stage-left. Robert is carrying a backpack provided to him by the staff.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Hey it's pretty dark, where's the light switch in this thing?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Hello everyone and welcome to today's episode! I see we have quite the group today.<br/> Let's meet our contestants. Please, tell us about yourselves!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Lights switch on)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Who said tha-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>That's great! Welcome to the show! Our contestants will compete in a stylized obstacle course for a chance to win fabulous prizes! The Rules are simple! No cheating and that's it! Now for a little legal disclaimer, please pay attention.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(The announcer says the following line very quickly.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>The show is not responsible for any injuries or death as a result of playing, contestants may be exposed to hazardous materials and dangerous situations. By agreeing you forfeit the right to all protests and lawsuits. Contestants cannot leave the show while it is underway, should you not agree you will be escorted out and not be authorized to re-enter. Do you agree?</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(All characters take a moment to show confusion)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Do you agree?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>I'd like to know-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>All questions must be phrased in the form of an answer. Do you agree?!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(All characters take another moment to show confusion)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ALL BUT ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Yes.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Lights go out and stagehands move in props, rearranging several desks into a simple maze for the show before the lights turn back on).</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Alright let's get started with round one of three, the first part of our obstacle course, the maze of terrors! Navigate to the end while avoiding "dead" ends to move on to round two!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Alright. Guess we should stick together and hug the wall, that's usually the best way to solve a maze since you're guaranteed to reach the end.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>A maze can't be that bad, can it?</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Contestants navigate for a bit with Lily leading before she trips and is grabbed by Liser)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>Careful! Dammit.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Is that what I think it is?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Yep, A punji pit. They used these back in the Vietnam war. I almost fell in, I would have been a goner. Thanks Liser.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>That changes things. Come on. We can’t afford to hug the wall anymore, who knows how many of these traps are in this thing.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>The group doubles back taking a different route, bullet sound effects are played</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>Get down! Fuck. Now what?!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>We crawl, the exit can't be far if the announcer is restoring to throwing bullets at us.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(The group makes their way to the next part of the obstacle course, the lights go out,<br/> Stagehands place some chairs as makeshift obstacle, rearranging the area before the lights come back on)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Great work! Welcome to round 2. This will be our quiz round and with it we will be adding a new rule! After every thirty seconds we'll be asking a trivia question, answer correctly or things will get harder!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(The contestants make their way through the stage, stopping to answer questions)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Well, ok.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Time for our first question! What is the capital of Mauritania?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>I Don't think there's a time limit so we should take our time to ans-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>I don't know? Cape town?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Oh, I'm sorry. The correct answer was Nouakchott. Lava will now slowly rise.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>Liser you idiot! Theres a time limit now! We gotta hurry this up.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Stagelights create an orange glow.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Calm down, this is a high stress situation for all of us.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Next question! Where in your body can you find the femur?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Give me another chance guys, is it. um, it's your leg, right?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>That is… correct!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(The players nearly reached the end of round 2 when another question is asked)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Looks like our contestants are almost to the end, we may only have time for one more question! Who wrote the "Merchant of Venice”?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Oh! I know this one it's Will-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>William Faulkner!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Oh I'm sorry, but that's the wrong William! We were looking for William Shakespeare. The room will now flood with poisonous gas.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Stage Lights turn green to signify the event, the actors cough until the end of Liser's line.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>Robert I was answering that, Christ the gas is rising fast, hold your breath.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>Oh shit coughing, jump!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(The players jump from the final prop, enter stage-right before the lights go out and the stage is once again arraigned by the stagehands to form a half circle of turned-over tables, with the unfinished half facing the audience, before they come back on)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>We made it… we… Dammit Liser that was your fault!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LISER</strong></p> </div> <p>My fault?! You're the one who interrupted Lily when she was about to answer right, and you almost got us disqualified for cheating!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>LILY</strong></p> </div> <p>For the second time calm down, let's just-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Great work on reaching the final round! Please step into the circle.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(The Trio step inside)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Thank you, now I have a special announcement to make. The truth is that there can only be one winner! Those who fail this challenge will be punished as if they were cheating! For this game, we’ll be adding a new ru-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>No! I've had enough bullshit. I'm calling the shots now!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Robert takes out a hidden gun.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ROBERT</strong></p> </div> <p>Sorry but if there’s only gunna be one winner then it's gunna be me! I've been saving this for a time like this, the Foundation will probably confiscate it the moment I leave this place, and I will leave.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>ANNOUNCER</strong></p> </div> <p>Using an unauthorized tool brought from the outside is a viola-</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Robert</strong></p> </div> <p>And you! Shut up! I don’t know where you are but when I'm done with this i'll come find you and handle you myself! Lily! Liser! On the ground!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Lily</strong></p> </div> <p>Rob, have you gone mad?! We have no idea what'll happen if we violate the rules!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Robert</strong></p> </div> <p>Yeah, well If we keep playing this way two of us will have to find out anyway, and I don’t intend on that being me. Goodbye, Lily.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Liser</strong></p> </div> <p>Rob don’t!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Liser jumps in front of Lily as a bullet sound effect is played, he collapsed to the floor.</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Lily</strong></p> </div> <p>Liser No! You're a monster!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Robert</strong></p> </div> <p>I'm doing what I have to do to make it through this.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Announcer</strong></p> </div> <p>That's a shame to see! A contestant has just been eliminated and another has violated the rules! A punishment will now be administered, you are disqualified!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Robert</strong></p> </div> <p>You wanna punish me?! Go ahead! Come at me!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Robert takes Lily hostage, grabbing her and alternating between aiming his gun at her head and around him before the lights go out. A scream, Liser and Robert are both gone and stagehands remove the desks. The lights remain off for the remainder of the play.</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Announcer</strong></p> </div> <p>Congratulations are in order, contestants! You are the winner! Do tell, how do you feel about your victory?</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Lily</strong></p> </div> <p>Go to hell!</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>Announcer</strong></p> </div> <p>That's great! Now let's see your lovely prize! Not only are you free to leave, but you have just won an all-expense paid trip to the Fiji islands!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>(Lily takes a moment to compose herself, then on Stage Right, A single light illuminates an exit. Lily leaves, holding a ticket to Fiji that she than throws away into the darkness.)</em></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>END</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ A note on usage</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">Close</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Following the principles of create commons, you are free to use and preform this play as you wish, I only ask you site this page.</p> </div> </div> </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="Mother's Love"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/mothers-love">Mother's Love</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Series 1 Tales Hub"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-series-1-tales-edition">Series 1 Tales Hub</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="The Black Horse"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-black-horse">The Black Horse</a></p> </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="/welcome-to-todays-episode">Welcome To Todays Episode</a>" by Commluke1, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/welcome-to-todays-episode">https://scpwiki.com/welcome-to-todays-episode</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;"> <p><strong>Based on:</strong> SCP-024<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> SpoonOfEvil<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-by-SA-1.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-024">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-024</a><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <strong>Inspired by:</strong> Demasqed<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Henzoid<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC-by-SA-3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/demasqed">https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/demasqed</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=Welcome-to-Todays-Episode \|authorPage=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7446 \|comments= = Welcome to Todays Episode = Author: Commluke1 = Published on the 3rd of August 2023 = A 10 minute read (2000 words) ]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ ------ > Please Note > This Tale/Play was written in the summer as a one off and is meant to be > performed live by a small group of people in a theater as a short prior to a longer play. > It can still, however, be enjoyed by simply reading it. > Thank you and please enjoy. > @@ @@ > Characters > @@ @@ > D-Class 2882 "Lily" - Female, Should wear all orange or all red, alternatively a black and white pattern also works. The clothing of all three "Class-D's" should match. Lily is the most energetic and smartest of the trio and the defacto leader of the group. Her hair should be kept similar to that of the other Class-D's. > @@ @@ > D-Class 3032 "Robert" - Male, Should wear all orange or all red, alternatively a black and white pattern also works. The clothing of all three "Class-D's" should match. Robert is the most ruthless and the strongest of the group. > @@ @@ > D-Class 4832 "Liser" - Male, Should wear all orange or all red, alternatively a black and white pattern also works. The clothing of all three "Class-D's" should match. Liser is the support of the group, often bringing the others when they are feeling down. He is valued and often dragged along by the other two, despite not having too many practical skills. No details on his hair. > @@ @@ > The Announcer - Any Gender. Never physically appearing in the play, instead being a voice pulling the strings of SCP-024, speaking in a loud, commanding and energetic voice like a gameshow host to the contestants. > @@ @@ > Prop Items > @@ @@ > Fake gun (Inside a Backpack) > Ticket > Several desks or other barrier like structures > Several chairs or other obstacles that can be stood on ------ [[=]] START [[/=]] [[>]] //(Curtains open on a dark stage with a single light illuminating stage-left acting as a door while characters can be heard speaking.)// [[/>]] [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] Dammit, how did we get ourselves into this mess. [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Let’s just get this over with, I just wanna do my time, after that I'm buying a one way ticket to Fiji. [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Yeah, that's probably best… What do you think will happen to us after this? [[=]] LISER [[/=]] I think it'll be straight forward, we get through it, then they probably move us to another facility, the Foundation must have hundreds of these things around the world. [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] Yeah or maybe we die in the game, or get killed off as soon as it's over. Think about it, if they locked this thing up and are only letting criminals interact with it, it must be dangerous. [[=]] LILY [[/=]] I don't know exactly what's in there but Jake spread rumors before they took him and threw him into the game. Rumors that you could win prizes, even freedom from the Foundation. [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Alright then. It’s not like we really have a choice when we have guns pointed to our heads. [[>]] //(Liser, Lily and Robert enter onto the illuminated area stage-left. Robert is carrying a backpack provided to him by the staff.)// [[/>]] [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Hey it's pretty dark, where's the light switch in this thing? [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Hello everyone and welcome to today's episode! I see we have quite the group today. Let's meet our contestants. Please, tell us about yourselves! [[>]] //(Lights switch on)// [[/>]] [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Who said tha- [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] That's great! Welcome to the show! Our contestants will compete in a stylized obstacle course for a chance to win fabulous prizes! The Rules are simple! No cheating and that's it! Now for a little legal disclaimer, please pay attention. [[>]] //(The announcer says the following line very quickly.)// [[/>]] [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] The show is not responsible for any injuries or death as a result of playing, contestants may be exposed to hazardous materials and dangerous situations. By agreeing you forfeit the right to all protests and lawsuits. Contestants cannot leave the show while it is underway, should you not agree you will be escorted out and not be authorized to re-enter. Do you agree? [[>]] //(All characters take a moment to show confusion)// [[/>]] [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Do you agree? [[=]] LILY [[/=]] I'd like to know- [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] All questions must be phrased in the form of an answer. Do you agree?! [[>]] //(All characters take another moment to show confusion)// [[/>]] [[=]] ALL BUT ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Yes. [[>]] //(Lights go out and stagehands move in props, rearranging several desks into a simple maze for the show before the lights turn back on).// [[/>]] [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Alright let's get started with round one of three, the first part of our obstacle course, the maze of terrors! Navigate to the end while avoiding "dead" ends to move on to round two! [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Alright. Guess we should stick together and hug the wall, that's usually the best way to solve a maze since you're guaranteed to reach the end. [[=]] LISER [[/=]] A maze can't be that bad, can it? [[>]] //(Contestants navigate for a bit with Lily leading before she trips and is grabbed by Liser)// [[/>]] [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] Careful! Dammit. [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Is that what I think it is? [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Yep, A punji pit. They used these back in the Vietnam war. I almost fell in, I would have been a goner. Thanks Liser. [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] That changes things. Come on. We can’t afford to hug the wall anymore, who knows how many of these traps are in this thing. [[>]] //The group doubles back taking a different route, bullet sound effects are played// [[/>]] [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] Get down! Fuck. Now what?! [[=]] LILY [[/=]] We crawl, the exit can't be far if the announcer is restoring to throwing bullets at us. [[>]] //(The group makes their way to the next part of the obstacle course, the lights go out, Stagehands place some chairs as makeshift obstacle, rearranging the area before the lights come back on)// [[/>]] [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Great work! Welcome to round 2. This will be our quiz round and with it we will be adding a new rule! After every thirty seconds we'll be asking a trivia question, answer correctly or things will get harder! [[>]] //(The contestants make their way through the stage, stopping to answer questions)// [[/>]] [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Well, ok. [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Time for our first question! What is the capital of Mauritania? [[=]] LILY [[/=]] I Don't think there's a time limit so we should take our time to ans- [[=]] LISER [[/=]] I don't know? Cape town? [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Oh, I'm sorry. The correct answer was Nouakchott. Lava will now slowly rise. [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] Liser you idiot! Theres a time limit now! We gotta hurry this up. [[>]] //(Stagelights create an orange glow.)// [[/>]] [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Calm down, this is a high stress situation for all of us. [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Next question! Where in your body can you find the femur? [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Give me another chance guys, is it. um, it's your leg, right? [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] That is… correct! [[>]] //(The players nearly reached the end of round 2 when another question is asked)// [[/>]] [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Looks like our contestants are almost to the end, we may only have time for one more question! Who wrote the "Merchant of Venice”? [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Oh! I know this one it's Will- [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] William Faulkner! [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Oh I'm sorry, but that's the wrong William! We were looking for William Shakespeare. The room will now flood with poisonous gas. [[>]] //(Stage Lights turn green to signify the event, the actors cough until the end of Liser's line.)// [[/>]] [[=]] LILY [[/=]] Robert I was answering that, Christ the gas is rising fast, hold your breath. [[=]] LISER [[/=]] Oh shit coughing, jump! [[>]] //(The players jump from the final prop, enter stage-right before the lights go out and the stage is once again arraigned by the stagehands to form a half circle of turned-over tables, with the unfinished half facing the audience, before they come back on)// [[/>]] [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] We made it... we... Dammit Liser that was your fault! [[=]] LISER [[/=]] My fault?! You're the one who interrupted Lily when she was about to answer right, and you almost got us disqualified for cheating! [[=]] LILY [[/=]] For the second time calm down, let's just- [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Great work on reaching the final round! Please step into the circle. [[>]] //(The Trio step inside)// [[/>]] [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Thank you, now I have a special announcement to make. The truth is that there can only be one winner! Those who fail this challenge will be punished as if they were cheating! For this game, we’ll be adding a new ru- [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] No! I've had enough bullshit. I'm calling the shots now! [[>]] //(Robert takes out a hidden gun.)// [[/>]] [[=]] ROBERT [[/=]] Sorry but if there’s only gunna be one winner then it's gunna be me! I've been saving this for a time like this, the Foundation will probably confiscate it the moment I leave this place, and I will leave. [[=]] ANNOUNCER [[/=]] Using an unauthorized tool brought from the outside is a viola- [[=]] Robert [[/=]] And you! Shut up! I don’t know where you are but when I'm done with this i'll come find you and handle you myself! Lily! Liser! On the ground! [[=]] Lily [[/=]] Rob, have you gone mad?! We have no idea what'll happen if we violate the rules! [[=]] Robert [[/=]] Yeah, well If we keep playing this way two of us will have to find out anyway, and I don’t intend on that being me. Goodbye, Lily. [[=]] Liser [[/=]] Rob don’t! [[>]] //(Liser jumps in front of Lily as a bullet sound effect is played, he collapsed to the floor.// [[/>]] [[=]] Lily [[/=]] Liser No! You're a monster! [[=]] Robert [[/=]] I'm doing what I have to do to make it through this. [[=]] Announcer [[/=]] That's a shame to see! A contestant has just been eliminated and another has violated the rules! A punishment will now be administered, you are disqualified! [[=]] Robert [[/=]] You wanna punish me?! Go ahead! Come at me! [[>]] //(Robert takes Lily hostage, grabbing her and alternating between aiming his gun at her head and around him before the lights go out. A scream, Liser and Robert are both gone and stagehands remove the desks. The lights remain off for the remainder of the play.// [[/>]] [[=]] Announcer [[/=]] Congratulations are in order, contestants! You are the winner! Do tell, how do you feel about your victory? [[=]] Lily [[/=]] Go to hell! [[=]] Announcer [[/=]] That's great! Now let's see your lovely prize! Not only are you free to leave, but you have just won an all-expense paid trip to the Fiji islands! [[>]] //(Lily takes a moment to compose herself, then on Stage Right, A single light illuminates an exit. Lily leaves, holding a ticket to Fiji that she than throws away into the darkness.)// [[/>]] [[=]] END [[/=]] ------ [[=]] [[collapsible show="+ A note on usage" hide="Close"]] Following the principles of create commons, you are free to use and preform this play as you wish, I only ask you site this page. [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] [[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/mothers-love\| previous-title=Mother's Love \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-black-horse \| next-title=The Black Horse \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-series-1-tales-edition \| hub-title=Series 1 Tales Hub ]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] Based on: SCP-024 Author: SpoonOfEvil License: CC-by-SA-1.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-024 @@ @@ Inspired by: Demasqed Author: Henzoid License: CC-by-SA-3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/demasqed [[/<]] ===== [[/=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-03T21:40:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	Welcome To Todays Episode - SCP Foundation	6	[ "scp-7446", "component:info-ayers", "mothers-love", "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "the-black-horse", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "scp-024", "demasqed" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-1-tales-edition" ]	[]	1449263229	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/welcome-to-todays-episode
wettle-appreciation-post	<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> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Incident Log 43-FK5132</span></strong></p> <p><strong>Date:</strong> 3<sup>rd</sup> January 2023</p> <p><strong>Location:</strong> <a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a></p> <p><strong>Foreword:</strong> The following is an excerpt detailing the events of an anomalous occurrence, pending further investigation and/or classification. Further inquiries should be directed toward your site's RAISA representative.</p> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>[BEGIN LOG]</strong></p> <p><em>Note that the footage displayed is mainly focused on <a href="/scp-7000">Dr. William Wallace Wettle's</a><span class="fnnum">.</span><span class="fncon">Deputy Chair of Replication Studies.</span> office.</em></p> <p><em>Struggling can be heard on the other side of the office's entrance before Wettle bursts into the room sporting a disgruntled expression. His shirt is noticeably stained with milk, caused by him spilling a bowl of cereal onto himself prior to this recording. He is audibly muttering to himself.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> (<em>quietly</em>) Great, just fucking great…</p> <p><em>Wettle realizes his right shoe is untied and clumsily attempts to fix it, failing twice. Afterward, he staggers to his desk and falls to his seat, sighing loudly as he stares at the ceiling for a brief moment.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> Great way to start the day, just… <em>ugh.</em></p> <p><em>He turns his attention to the stack of paperwork laid on top of his table and sighs again. He leans back on his seat and, after struggling to gain his balance, stretches and moves in to review the documents.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> Another day, another dollar, I guess.</p> <p><em>He gets a paper cut and swears under his breath. A momentary silence follows.</em></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:250px;"><img alt="Hershey.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/wettle-appreciation-post/Hershey.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Attached image</p> </div> </div> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> Though, it's another dollar wasted in my book —</p> <p><em>Wettle suddenly pauses as he opens the drawer and notices something placed inside. After accidentally hitting his hand on the drawer's side, he retrieves what appears to be a 'king-sized' Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bar.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> What is… What?</p> <p><em>He inspects the chocolate bar and sees a sticky note attached to it. It reads:</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="table1"> <table> <tr> <td> <p style="text-align: center;">Happy New Year! Hope you like this lil' treat I got for you. You deserve it after all the shit you've been through.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Keep up the good work!</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;">~ 🦢</p> </td> </tr> </table> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>Wettle pauses for an extended period of time before quickly rising from his seat and leaving the office. The following portion consists of him going around and asking nearby personnel regarding the piece of chocolate and whether they were "fucking with [him]." However, none admit to doing so.</em></p> <p><em>After inadvertently running into the door, Wettle enters his office once more and begins circling the room in confusion, murmuring.</em></p> <p><em>Eventually, he comes to a stop and returns his focus on the chocolate bar. Opening the wrapper, he continues to stare at it before breaking off a piece and sniffing it.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> Yeah, no, somebody's <em>definitely</em> fucking with me right now. I mean, this is probably spiked with drugs or… ghost peppers, or something. I don't know.</p> <p><em>Wettle retreats to his chair and sits down, still holding the piece to his face. He pauses.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> Eh, whatever the case may be: I doubt it'll do me any —</p> <p><em>He hesitates at first, but proceeds to eat the piece of chocolate. After some time, he freezes in place.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> It's… it's good?</p> <p><em>Another pause.</em></p> <p><strong>Wettle:</strong> …It's good.</p> <p><em>Wettle spends the remaining footage eating the rest of the chocolate bar, remarking on the quality of its taste with every bite.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>[END LOG]</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Afterword:</strong> No further anomalies persisted. Wettle returned to his scheduled duties following this.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/></p> <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>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-7245">SCP-7245</a> <em>(+54)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> 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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="/wettle-appreciation-post">#WettleAppreciationPost</a>" by winkwonkboi, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/wettle-appreciation-post">https://scpwiki.com/wettle-appreciation-post</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> Hershey<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Hershey's KING SIZE Milk Chocolate Bar<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Pest15<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/85567416@N03/19476732213">Flickr</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a>]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] = __Incident Log 43-FK5132__ Date: 3^^rd^^ January 2023 Location: [[[secure-facility-dossier-site-43\|Site-43]]] Foreword: The following is an excerpt detailing the events of an anomalous occurrence, pending further investigation and/or classification. Further inquiries should be directed toward your site's RAISA representative. ---- = [BEGIN LOG] //Note that the footage displayed is mainly focused on [[[scp-7000\|Dr. William Wallace Wettle's]]][[span class="fnnum"]].[[/span]][[span class="fncon"]]Deputy Chair of Replication Studies.[[/span]] office.// //Struggling can be heard on the other side of the office's entrance before Wettle bursts into the room sporting a disgruntled expression. His shirt is noticeably stained with milk, caused by him spilling a bowl of cereal onto himself prior to this recording. He is audibly muttering to himself.// Wettle: (//quietly//) Great, just fucking great… //Wettle realizes his right shoe is untied and clumsily attempts to fix it, failing twice. Afterward, he staggers to his desk and falls to his seat, sighing loudly as he stares at the ceiling for a brief moment.// Wettle: Great way to start the day, just… //ugh.// //He turns his attention to the stack of paperwork laid on top of his table and sighs again. He leans back on his seat and, after struggling to gain his balance, stretches and moves in to review the documents.// Wettle: Another day, another dollar, I guess. //He gets a paper cut and swears under his breath. A momentary silence follows.// [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/wettle-appreciation-post/Hershey.jpg\|caption=Attached image\|width=250px]] Wettle: Though, it's another dollar wasted in my book — //Wettle suddenly pauses as he opens the drawer and notices something placed inside. After accidentally hitting his hand on the drawer's side, he retrieves what appears to be a 'king-sized' Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bar.// Wettle: What is… What? //He inspects the chocolate bar and sees a sticky note attached to it. It reads:// @@ @@ [[div class="table1"]] [[table]] [[row]] [[cell]] = Happy New Year! Hope you like this lil' treat I got for you. You deserve it after all the shit you've been through. = //Keep up the good work!// = ~ 🦢 [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[/div]] @@ @@ //Wettle pauses for an extended period of time before quickly rising from his seat and leaving the office. The following portion consists of him going around and asking nearby personnel regarding the piece of chocolate and whether they were "fucking with [him]." However, none admit to doing so.// //After inadvertently running into the door, Wettle enters his office once more and begins circling the room in confusion, murmuring.// //Eventually, he comes to a stop and returns his focus on the chocolate bar. Opening the wrapper, he continues to stare at it before breaking off a piece and sniffing it.// Wettle: Yeah, no, somebody's //definitely// fucking with me right now. I mean, this is probably spiked with drugs or… ghost peppers, or something. I don't know. //Wettle retreats to his chair and sits down, still holding the piece to his face. He pauses.// Wettle: Eh, whatever the case may be: I doubt it'll do me any — //He hesitates at first, but proceeds to eat the piece of chocolate. After some time, he freezes in place.// Wettle: It's… it's good? //Another pause.// Wettle: …It's good. //Wettle spends the remaining footage eating the rest of the chocolate bar, remarking on the quality of its taste with every bite.// = [END LOG] ---- Afterword: No further anomalies persisted. Wettle returned to his scheduled duties following this. [[/div]] ~~~~ @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] @@ @@ [[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: Hershey > Name: Hershey's KING SIZE Milk Chocolate Bar > Author: Pest15 > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/85567416@N03/19476732213 Flickr] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-01-05T02:32:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "coldpostcon", "doctor-wettle", "heartwarming", "on-guard-43", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	#WettleAppreciationPost - SCP Foundation	136	[ "secure-facility-dossier-site-43", "scp-7000", "scp-7245", "scp-6199", "scp-6306", "scp-7816", "scp-4931", "scp-7538", "protected:scp-7156", "scp-8386", "scp-7657", "scp-6895", "scp-8245", "scp-2689", "scp-6545", "scp-5358", "scp-7199", "a-sinking-feeling", "inkirbycase1", "water-diet", "something-burning", "aeed-orientation", "employee-of-the-century", "ur-typical-unrequited-love", "critter-profile-miss-cassandra", "a-taste-for-sore-eyes", "goodnight-sweet-dreams", "in-an-attempt-to-feel-something", "man-overboard", "people-care-dear", "roses-and-thorns", "art:a-lack-of-care", "art:helthy-6780-fanart", "art:king-calcaruler-halloween-emperor", "art:respond-tmo-fanart", "art:collection-of-trolls", "art:froot-froggo", "art:jim-fart-exchange", "art:fisher-2689-fanart", "art:certified-criminal", "art:fading-stars-doodles", "art:ditto-6869-fanart", "art:noticed-7345-fanart", "art:combust-6057-fanart", "the-winkwonk-page", "art:7k-doodles", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "scp-series-8-tales-edition", "coldpostcon" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/wettle-appreciation-post/Hershey.jpg" ]	1445392603	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wettle-appreciation-post
what-does-not-rot	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>As the horses’ hooves were rhythmically pounding on the cobbles of the street, a bulky man in a bulkier coat sat far behind them at the end of the cab. To the other passengers’ discomfort, his figure occupied the seat for its whole width and his head almost reached up to the walls and the roof. He had a hat as wide as his shoulders which cast his face in total darkness if not for a long and narrow white beard descending all the way to his belly. His fellow travellers, two men, a woman and her child, couldn’t help to not only feel overwhelmed by his size, but also by his faint murmuring, not for a second since he stepped in the cab had he relaxed his vocal chords, instead he left his lips drifting as they were afloat of a river of never-ending words.</p> <p>The murmur was unintelligible and mystifying to the ears of all. So that the woman saw her child being distraught and asked the man if he could stop, from under the coat he raised a slim and jewelled hand to give her a signal of his comprehension and lowered the tone of his voice but still, kept it alive.</p> <p>The woman then reached her free hand to the stranger’s face in an attempt to uncover his face from under the hat, but a voice stopped her from behind, it was the cab driver speaking and they said: “Dont you try, he paid extra to not be disturbed, have you done so?”</p> <p>The woman felt irritated and while cradling her kid she protested: “How come you let foreigners bother us citizens with all of their weirdness just ‘cause they paid you more? Is this just? I feel like these fine men much like me feel disturbed by this gibberish. I’d like to leave this cab right now!”</p> <p>After a few seconds of silence, if that it could be called, the man in the coat finally raised his voice to express understandable words: “No need for that ma’am, my destination isn’t much far and I’m sure that my feet are more than able to bring me where I wish.”</p> <p>The whole cab including the driver was left astonished by his deep and soothing voice, though they couldn’t tell why exactly With much struggle the stranger reached the exit and gave his thanks to the driver, refusing to receive part of the gold he had paid in return for the unfinished serviced and reassuring them that his clothing was warm enough to keep him safe from the cold of the winter. Only once the horses took back their steady pace to the point of covering the stranger's unending words, one of the men pinned down what had amazed him about the weird man’s voice. Though he spoke aloud, the chant still hadn’t stopped for a second.</p> <p>The man now walked the streets, leaving deep prints on the carpet of snow that had overcome them. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead, but soon his attention was taken by the smallest of spots in the corner of his vision. He turned his head to see them better and discovered them to be two little children faintly trembling under the rain of snowflakes.</p> <p>The two, a boy and a girl, soon awoke in the embrace of a warm fur, surrected by a strong arm each. They looked up to their savior and saw the hard and wrinkled face of a meagre old man “Do not get too deep in the mantle. You won’t rise up again.” He said while his lips were still chanting.</p> <p>The two kids then, not complaining of the newfound comfort, started to look around and saw the houses moving past as the man was still walking forward “Where are you taking us?” asked the girl, “My destination is now near, we will reach it and stay there for a while, then I’ll take you somewhere warm.”</p> <p>He answered. Then the boy, taking notice of the endless chant coming from the man’s mouth asked: “Are you a singer? What is this song? I’ve never heard it.”</p> <p>The man, with eyes still unmoving from the road, said: “This is not a song, it’s a prayer.”</p> <p>To which the girl said: “We too pray often, but never have heard these words, what are they?”.</p> <p>The man answered: “They are from Farsi, a language now long gone like many more.” “And to which Saint are you praying?” they asked, almost in unison.</p> <p>“I pray to the soul of Faruk Abedi, who died in the Great Breach.”</p> <p>The children were silent, none dared to speak after hearing that infamous calamity they so much heard about. They sat quietly and comfortably in the embrace of that soft fur. They let loose their minds once occupied by the harshness of the cold night. The steps of the man and the crunch of the snow were the sole sounds in the scene obviously accompanied by the ever-lasting chant.</p> <p>Noticing that the man was taking them far from the fortified town and into a land of more and more scattered houses, the girl grew curious once again and asked the man: “Why did you pick us up?”</p> <p>The man first stayed in a state that couldn’t be defined as quiet, but then brought himself to answer: “For you didn’t deserve to die there freezing, nor in any other gruesome way. None of you deserved what was unleashed upon them.”</p> <p>Then the boy went: “So you pray this Faruk? To protect us?”</p> <p>The man shook his head and responded: “He’s but one of many that perished in the Breach. Yesterday I prayed to Jonalyn Ocampo and tomorrow I plan to pray to Ernest Kühn. So will be for each day.”</p> <p>The boy didn’t feel his question to had been answered, but before he could speak out the girl interrupted: “What are all these names? Are they perished? Did they deserve to?” the stranger didn’t answer yet, instead he kept on walking as he filled the air with his murmuring.</p> <p>Finally, they reached what the children could swear was another town and the man ventured within it until he reached a snow-covered graveyard. There, positioning himself so to have all of the ghastly tombstones under his eye, he knelt down and started chanting as loud as he ever did.</p> <p>Sensing his companions to have now grown to be afraid of their saviour, he finally answered the question: “The truth is, they are indeed all perished and long forgotten by this world. Some of them didn’t deserve to die, some did, but none deserved to go the way they did.” A long pause intercurred “So no one deserves to die a victim of this world, as I find myself to have their blood on my many hands.”</p> <p>The children at that point had gotten more perplexed than ever, but every question they could have asked had been truncated by a sudden yell coming from behind them.</p> <p>“Fend off beast!“ the man raised himself on his feet and turned to face the source of such sound. It was two figures shrouded in black cloth and iron, the last of which engraved with the sigil of the three spears piercing a round shield; both drew a lance each and one of them, indiscernible who it came from, proclaimed: “Surrender to the will of the Holy Foundation and let go those children, you creature.”</p> <p>The man, his expression impossible to pin down as it was overshadowed by the large hat, did so and brought the children to the ground in a gentle manner. One of the guards made a sign for him to get closer to which he simply answered “No.”</p> <p>Once the blades of the guards’ weapons were raised in response to his defiance, he did nothing but spread open his mantle to unfold a myriad of limbs of various sizes, colors, shapes and nature, two of these, the only ones that seemed to belong to shoulders, were frail, pale and joined in an unending prayer, a symbol not unlike the guard’s etched on the chest underneath them.</p> <p>As the weapons were lowered, a hand emerged from the mangle, it displayed a mouth on its palm and with a voice familiar to the scared children it spoke: “To atone for the world I gave you, I decided upon singing a prayer, all day, and each day for one of the numerous fallen, in the hope that they are somewhere where I can be heard and that at least one of them, may grant me forgiveness. I only ask for you to take upon yourselves the care of these two children and to leave my mourning.”</p> <p>The guards were now shaken by an uncontrollable sense of both dread and wonder in front of such a vision, they walked near the man without showing any fear under their helmets and taking the two children under their mantle. Then, each with their own kid, walked to the sides of the graveyard to let the man, once again fully covered by his coat, walk through the rusted gate that led to the cemetery.</p> <p>As the man set foot on the now hardened snow of the streets, the girl asked: “And once you’ll have mourned for all that died? Will you stop?”</p> <p>The man didn’t turn to face her, instead he kept on walking and answered: “Then I would have mourned all that died in the Great Breach, then I’ll mourn for every person that has died in this new world.”</p> <p>The four attendees kept on staring at him until his figure vanished in the snowfall and left only when the chanting too could no longer be discerned.</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="/what-does-not-rot">What Does Not Rot</a>" by JNColossus, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/what-does-not-rot">https://scpwiki.com/what-does-not-rot</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:xmas">theme:xmas</a> \|xmas-snow= --]]] [[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] As the horses’ hooves were rhythmically pounding on the cobbles of the street, a bulky man in a bulkier coat sat far behind them at the end of the cab. To the other passengers’ discomfort, his figure occupied the seat for its whole width and his head almost reached up to the walls and the roof. He had a hat as wide as his shoulders which cast his face in total darkness if not for a long and narrow white beard descending all the way to his belly. His fellow travellers, two men, a woman and her child, couldn’t help to not only feel overwhelmed by his size, but also by his faint murmuring, not for a second since he stepped in the cab had he relaxed his vocal chords, instead he left his lips drifting as they were afloat of a river of never-ending words. The murmur was unintelligible and mystifying to the ears of all. So that the woman saw her child being distraught and asked the man if he could stop, from under the coat he raised a slim and jewelled hand to give her a signal of his comprehension and lowered the tone of his voice but still, kept it alive. The woman then reached her free hand to the stranger’s face in an attempt to uncover his face from under the hat, but a voice stopped her from behind, it was the cab driver speaking and they said: “Dont you try, he paid extra to not be disturbed, have you done so?” The woman felt irritated and while cradling her kid she protested: “How come you let foreigners bother us citizens with all of their weirdness just ‘cause they paid you more? Is this just? I feel like these fine men much like me feel disturbed by this gibberish. I’d like to leave this cab right now!” After a few seconds of silence, if that it could be called, the man in the coat finally raised his voice to express understandable words: “No need for that ma’am, my destination isn’t much far and I’m sure that my feet are more than able to bring me where I wish.” The whole cab including the driver was left astonished by his deep and soothing voice, though they couldn’t tell why exactly With much struggle the stranger reached the exit and gave his thanks to the driver, refusing to receive part of the gold he had paid in return for the unfinished serviced and reassuring them that his clothing was warm enough to keep him safe from the cold of the winter. Only once the horses took back their steady pace to the point of covering the stranger's unending words, one of the men pinned down what had amazed him about the weird man’s voice. Though he spoke aloud, the chant still hadn’t stopped for a second. The man now walked the streets, leaving deep prints on the carpet of snow that had overcome them. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead, but soon his attention was taken by the smallest of spots in the corner of his vision. He turned his head to see them better and discovered them to be two little children faintly trembling under the rain of snowflakes. The two, a boy and a girl, soon awoke in the embrace of a warm fur, surrected by a strong arm each. They looked up to their savior and saw the hard and wrinkled face of a meagre old man “Do not get too deep in the mantle. You won’t rise up again.” He said while his lips were still chanting. The two kids then, not complaining of the newfound comfort, started to look around and saw the houses moving past as the man was still walking forward “Where are you taking us?” asked the girl, “My destination is now near, we will reach it and stay there for a while, then I’ll take you somewhere warm.” He answered. Then the boy, taking notice of the endless chant coming from the man’s mouth asked: “Are you a singer? What is this song? I’ve never heard it.” The man, with eyes still unmoving from the road, said: “This is not a song, it’s a prayer.” To which the girl said: “We too pray often, but never have heard these words, what are they?”. The man answered: “They are from Farsi, a language now long gone like many more.” “And to which Saint are you praying?” they asked, almost in unison. “I pray to the soul of Faruk Abedi, who died in the Great Breach.” The children were silent, none dared to speak after hearing that infamous calamity they so much heard about. They sat quietly and comfortably in the embrace of that soft fur. They let loose their minds once occupied by the harshness of the cold night. The steps of the man and the crunch of the snow were the sole sounds in the scene obviously accompanied by the ever-lasting chant. Noticing that the man was taking them far from the fortified town and into a land of more and more scattered houses, the girl grew curious once again and asked the man: “Why did you pick us up?” The man first stayed in a state that couldn’t be defined as quiet, but then brought himself to answer: “For you didn’t deserve to die there freezing, nor in any other gruesome way. None of you deserved what was unleashed upon them.” Then the boy went: “So you pray this Faruk? To protect us?” The man shook his head and responded: “He’s but one of many that perished in the Breach. Yesterday I prayed to Jonalyn Ocampo and tomorrow I plan to pray to Ernest Kühn. So will be for each day.” The boy didn’t feel his question to had been answered, but before he could speak out the girl interrupted: “What are all these names? Are they perished? Did they deserve to?” the stranger didn’t answer yet, instead he kept on walking as he filled the air with his murmuring. Finally, they reached what the children could swear was another town and the man ventured within it until he reached a snow-covered graveyard. There, positioning himself so to have all of the ghastly tombstones under his eye, he knelt down and started chanting as loud as he ever did. Sensing his companions to have now grown to be afraid of their saviour, he finally answered the question: “The truth is, they are indeed all perished and long forgotten by this world. Some of them didn’t deserve to die, some did, but none deserved to go the way they did.” A long pause intercurred “So no one deserves to die a victim of this world, as I find myself to have their blood on my many hands.” The children at that point had gotten more perplexed than ever, but every question they could have asked had been truncated by a sudden yell coming from behind them. “Fend off beast!“ the man raised himself on his feet and turned to face the source of such sound. It was two figures shrouded in black cloth and iron, the last of which engraved with the sigil of the three spears piercing a round shield; both drew a lance each and one of them, indiscernible who it came from, proclaimed: “Surrender to the will of the Holy Foundation and let go those children, you creature.” The man, his expression impossible to pin down as it was overshadowed by the large hat, did so and brought the children to the ground in a gentle manner. One of the guards made a sign for him to get closer to which he simply answered “No.” Once the blades of the guards’ weapons were raised in response to his defiance, he did nothing but spread open his mantle to unfold a myriad of limbs of various sizes, colors, shapes and nature, two of these, the only ones that seemed to belong to shoulders, were frail, pale and joined in an unending prayer, a symbol not unlike the guard’s etched on the chest underneath them. As the weapons were lowered, a hand emerged from the mangle, it displayed a mouth on its palm and with a voice familiar to the scared children it spoke: “To atone for the world I gave you, I decided upon singing a prayer, all day, and each day for one of the numerous fallen, in the hope that they are somewhere where I can be heard and that at least one of them, may grant me forgiveness. I only ask for you to take upon yourselves the care of these two children and to leave my mourning.” The guards were now shaken by an uncontrollable sense of both dread and wonder in front of such a vision, they walked near the man without showing any fear under their helmets and taking the two children under their mantle. Then, each with their own kid, walked to the sides of the graveyard to let the man, once again fully covered by his coat, walk through the rusted gate that led to the cemetery. As the man set foot on the now hardened snow of the streets, the girl asked: “And once you’ll have mourned for all that died? Will you stop?” The man didn’t turn to face her, instead he kept on walking and answered: “Then I would have mourned all that died in the Great Breach, then I’ll mourn for every person that has died in this new world.” The four attendees kept on staring at him until his figure vanished in the snowfall and left only when the chanting too could no longer be discerned. [[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>]]	2023-11-23T22:27:00	[ "_licensebox", "bleak", "doctors-of-the-church", "post-apocalyptic", "religious-fiction", "tale", "the-administrator" ]	What Does Not Rot - SCP Foundation	6	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "doctors-of-the-church-hub" ]	[]	1451510210	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/what-does-not-rot
what-to-do-with-an-empty-vessel	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The SCP Foundation has a very particular policy for the containment of deceased anomalies and anomalous employees. Indefinite storage and preservation are in-store for every anomalous entity that has the displeasure of dying while under the Foundation's care.</p> <p>The first 48 hours after death are crucial for the study of an anomaly's effects postmortem. It is in this time that effects usually begin to wane. Dr. Wilson Fredericks of Site-17's mortuary understands this. His role is clear, repair as much damage to the corpse as possible so the other researchers can study it. Death is not a ticket out of containment in the Foundation.</p> <hr/> <p>Dr. Wilson sighs in relief.</p> <p>"This is Dr. Wilson Fredericks reporting on the successful reconstruction of one Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas's <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-death-of-dr-fern">skull and brain postmortem</a>. Subject suffered a terminal gunshot through the frontal and parietal lobe, as well as a single shot through the left leg. Postmortem surgery was successful in undoing a majority of the damage to the subject's brain thanks to usage of <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7340">SCP-7340</a>. Upon closer inspection during reconstruction, I have noticed that this subject possessed abnormally lower neural pathways than the average human. How this relates to its anomalous properties is unknown. "</p> <p>Wilson clicks his recorder off and sighs, the reconstructive surgery of Dr. Lomas's mind was successful, but costly. Not enough useful information could be gleamed from his mind to determine how he held the database inside his head, or how he could access it. Contradictory evidence was found instead, fewer pathways than average, a shrunken Wernicke's area, and a oversized occipital lobe.</p> <p>Wilson never met Patrick in life, but in death he was quickly becoming a headache that he couldn't shake. His instructions came from the highest sources, extract the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/implications-of-website-hosting">SCiPnet database from Dr. Lomas's brain</a> by any means. A task that was quickly becoming harder and harder to achieve as time went on.</p> <p>The official instructions were to leave the goggles on Dr. Lomas, as no one was certain if his eyes had reverted to baseline human after death, and the risk of eyesight loss was still too great. Preforming cerebral reconstructive surgery on a corpse wearing goggles is no easy task, more unnerving then anything else truly. He watched those goggles constantly throughout the procedure, waiting to see light flicker back on at any minute.</p> <p>But they never came back. Not like they used to.</p> <p>To hear stereotypical TV static in a room without monitors is confusing on normal circumstances. Hearing it in a room alone with just you and a dead body is cause for concern. Wilson's eyes scanned the room, looking for the source of the sound. Slowly, realization hits as dim flickering light begins to emanate from the dead corpse's goggles.</p> <p>"Oh what the fuck?" Wilson whispers quietly to himself as the corpse groggily sits up with a groan.</p> <p>"Oh thank the nonexistent Gods above" It grumbles out as it stretches out its back with a light pop. "No other voice in this head except my own now. Feels good. hm?" It turns to Wilson, "Surgeon, are we still in Site-17?"</p> <p>There's training for this. A silent alarm button somewhere nearby. Wilson does his best to hide his fumbling hands, searching for the alarm button, "Yes, we are in the Site-17 morgue. You should know that Dr. Lomas"</p> <p>"Ah, you didn't know him. Figures. Yeah Dr. Fern checked out bud. This is my body now. Been too long since I could feel, move, walk. Feels good. " It slides off the table to its feet, looking down at its nude form. "Gonna need some clothes. Hm, you look about my size. "</p> <p>"Excuse me-" It lunges at Dr. Wilson, quickly pinning him down onto the ground and wrapping its fingers around his throat. He croaks as air is restricted. His arms flail trying to loosen it's grip. He reaches a scalpel and plunges it into the corpse's arm to no avail. Liquid static bleed out of the wound. The entity grins, plucking the scalpel from its arm.</p> <p>"Thanks I will be needing this."</p> <p>It plunges the scalpel into Wilson's nose and jams it in deep with the palm of it's hand. Wilson scream is cut short and the blade lodges itself through the cranial wall.</p> <p>"Alright, let me make sure to not get too much blood on your clothes, I will need them of course. Let's see if this will work"</p> <p>Wilson gags as It forces his moth open with both hands. It grunts with effort as it continues to force his mouth wider, the jaw bone beginning to crack under the pressure.</p> <p>"Come on bud, little more"</p> <p>A loud, sickening crack echoes through room as Wilson's jaw fully rips open. The edges of his mouth tear as his jaw is pulled off and tossed aside.</p> <p>"Ah, always wondered if I could do that. Hm, so much for clean, hopefully hes got spare clothes here."</p> <hr/> <p>The best part of being someone not many people know in a massive site like Site-17 is that not many people know when you died, and won't question it if they see you walking around again.</p> <p>Just walk like everything is as it should be, like you have an important task to get to and people won't even look your way. You can go wherever you would normally be able to go to. Like Archival Storage to grab some unimportant items, like a face mask, a new jacket, and the lost Gospel of Mary. For no particular reason.</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="/what-to-do-with-an-empty-vessel">What to do with an empty vessel</a>" by Fernlom, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/what-to-do-with-an-empty-vessel">https://scpwiki.com/what-to-do-with-an-empty-vessel</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 SCP Foundation has a very particular policy for the containment of deceased anomalies and anomalous employees. Indefinite storage and preservation are in-store for every anomalous entity that has the displeasure of dying while under the Foundation's care. The first 48 hours after death are crucial for the study of an anomaly's effects postmortem. It is in this time that effects usually begin to wane. Dr. Wilson Fredericks of Site-17's mortuary understands this. His role is clear, repair as much damage to the corpse as possible so the other researchers can study it. Death is not a ticket out of containment in the Foundation. ------ Dr. Wilson sighs in relief. "This is Dr. Wilson Fredericks reporting on the successful reconstruction of one Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas's [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-death-of-dr-fern skull and brain postmortem]. Subject suffered a terminal gunshot through the frontal and parietal lobe, as well as a single shot through the left leg. Postmortem surgery was successful in undoing a majority of the damage to the subject's brain thanks to usage of [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7340 SCP-7340]. Upon closer inspection during reconstruction, I have noticed that this subject possessed abnormally lower neural pathways than the average human. How this relates to its anomalous properties is unknown. " Wilson clicks his recorder off and sighs, the reconstructive surgery of Dr. Lomas's mind was successful, but costly. Not enough useful information could be gleamed from his mind to determine how he held the database inside his head, or how he could access it. Contradictory evidence was found instead, fewer pathways than average, a shrunken Wernicke's area, and a oversized occipital lobe. Wilson never met Patrick in life, but in death he was quickly becoming a headache that he couldn't shake. His instructions came from the highest sources, extract the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/implications-of-website-hosting SCiPnet database from Dr. Lomas's brain] by any means. A task that was quickly becoming harder and harder to achieve as time went on. The official instructions were to leave the goggles on Dr. Lomas, as no one was certain if his eyes had reverted to baseline human after death, and the risk of eyesight loss was still too great. Preforming cerebral reconstructive surgery on a corpse wearing goggles is no easy task, more unnerving then anything else truly. He watched those goggles constantly throughout the procedure, waiting to see light flicker back on at any minute. But they never came back. Not like they used to. To hear stereotypical TV static in a room without monitors is confusing on normal circumstances. Hearing it in a room alone with just you and a dead body is cause for concern. Wilson's eyes scanned the room, looking for the source of the sound. Slowly, realization hits as dim flickering light begins to emanate from the dead corpse's goggles. "Oh what the fuck?" Wilson whispers quietly to himself as the corpse groggily sits up with a groan. "Oh thank the nonexistent Gods above" It grumbles out as it stretches out its back with a light pop. "No other voice in this head except my own now. Feels good. hm?" It turns to Wilson, "Surgeon, are we still in Site-17?" There's training for this. A silent alarm button somewhere nearby. Wilson does his best to hide his fumbling hands, searching for the alarm button, "Yes, we are in the Site-17 morgue. You should know that Dr. Lomas" "Ah, you didn't know him. Figures. Yeah Dr. Fern checked out bud. This is my body now. Been too long since I could feel, move, walk. Feels good. " It slides off the table to its feet, looking down at its nude form. "Gonna need some clothes. Hm, you look about my size. " "Excuse me-" It lunges at Dr. Wilson, quickly pinning him down onto the ground and wrapping its fingers around his throat. He croaks as air is restricted. His arms flail trying to loosen it's grip. He reaches a scalpel and plunges it into the corpse's arm to no avail. Liquid static bleed out of the wound. The entity grins, plucking the scalpel from its arm. "Thanks I will be needing this." It plunges the scalpel into Wilson's nose and jams it in deep with the palm of it's hand. Wilson scream is cut short and the blade lodges itself through the cranial wall. "Alright, let me make sure to not get too much blood on your clothes, I will need them of course. Let's see if this will work" Wilson gags as It forces his moth open with both hands. It grunts with effort as it continues to force his mouth wider, the jaw bone beginning to crack under the pressure. "Come on bud, little more" A loud, sickening crack echoes through room as Wilson's jaw fully rips open. The edges of his mouth tear as his jaw is pulled off and tossed aside. "Ah, always wondered if I could do that. Hm, so much for clean, hopefully hes got spare clothes here." ------ The best part of being someone not many people know in a massive site like Site-17 is that not many people know when you died, and won't question it if they see you walking around again. Just walk like everything is as it should be, like you have an important task to get to and people won't even look your way. You can go wherever you would normally be able to go to. Like Archival Storage to grab some unimportant items, like a face mask, a new jacket, and the lost Gospel of Mary. For no particular reason. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Fernlom]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-20T05:27:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale" ]	What to do with an empty vessel - SCP Foundation	5	[ "the-death-of-dr-fern", "scp-7340", "implications-of-website-hosting", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1450844893	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/what-to-do-with-an-empty-vessel
what-would-you-bring	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>"If you were stuck on a deserted island, what would you bring?"</p> <p>Mr. Johnson's words echoed throughout the classroom, the group of teens all giggling at the question.</p> <p>"It's an age-old question, one of the oldest icebreakers known to man. It is the last resort of someone who has nothing else to do or say. So, what would you all bring?"</p> <p>"Oh c'mon, that's too vague. Spice it up a little!" Zeke said.</p> <p>"Same reasoning for your new hairdo today?" Sarah said in response, getting a chuckle from Zeke and the others.</p> <p>"Hey, I was just trying something okay? Besides, I think it suits me." Zeke responded.</p> <p>"Okay, besides the fact that Zeke's hair looks like a piece of roadkill, I do have to agree with him. Let's limit it down to just a category." Sam wittingly chided, pushing up his glasses.</p> <p>"Fine, how about this: You could only listen to one song while marooned on a desert island. What would you listen to?" Mr. Johnson replied.</p> <p>"Oh, <em>Bohemian Rhapsody</em>, hands down," Zeke said, an heir of confidence noticeably in his voice.</p> <p>"Hey, gotta respect the choice, but that's not funny enough. <em>Message In A Bottle</em> is my choice," Sam said, getting rewarded an eye-roll by everyone present. "Think about it though! It's catchy <em>and</em> it fits! It's the perfect choice."</p> <p>"Bro, come on. You'd go nuts listening to that over and over again! Mine is <em>Jessica</em> by the Allman Brothers Band." Jack said.</p> <p>"How'd it even work? We'd have no electricity if we were on a deserted island!" Sarah said, prompting Mr. Johnson to point at her with his ruler and coldly state, "Don't be a know-it-all, Sarah. Fine, let's assume that there's some kind of electricity on the island, happy? Now, let's continue. How about video games?"</p> <p>The class began to ponder, with numerous answers being thrown around. Some of them said <em>Super Smash Bros</em>, while others said things like <em>Minecraft</em>, <em>Animal Crossing</em>, and the <em>Elder Scrolls</em>.</p> <p>"Alright, alright, settle down. Now, let's keep this going: How about books? Now, don't let these be the basic answers, surprise me. I know I myself am a large Heinlein fan, so my choice is <em>Stranger In a Strange Land</em>."</p> <p>"I've heard some good things about <em>Against the Day</em>," Sam said, wiping his glasses clear of any stains.</p> <p>"Uuuuuuuh, how about <em>Ulysses</em> by James What's-His-Name. It's been sitting on my dad's bookshelf for ages, so might as well see what all the fuss is about," said Zeke.</p> <p>"I'll read <em>Lord of the Flies</em>. I can have fun reading while all of you tear each other apart." Sam said, chuckling.</p> <p>The class continued to answer question after question, the thought of being stuck on an island burned into their minds, as if they stared at the sun and it were engraved into them. They could almost see it, those winding beaches, and the salty breeze that blew through their very souls.</p> <p>"Alright, let's move on. Now, l-" Mr. Johnson began, but was quickly cut off as the whole room began to shake. Students began to scream, with others looking out the window, the sight before them unlike any seen before.</p> <p>Outside, there… well, there wasn't even an outside left. What used to be there was now an arrangement of fractals and colors, a barrage of the sights and senses. Infinity itself folded in on itself as if the world was being destroyed and reborn anew.</p> <p>Soon, they became nothing, and out of darkness, they became themselves again. Reborn and destroyed a near infinite amount, time itself unable to keep up. A myriad of colors and feelings bombarded them. Their essences merged and melted, their very beings being plucked by the strings of fate.</p> <p>The last thought any of them could muster, before they drowned in utter infinity, was that of the island. And so, their fate was sealed.</p> <p>The room began to twist and distort, with the walls fading away to endless waves. In a flash of blue light, the world was back to the way it was before, but something was different. The classroom that once held so many people now lay empty and barren, with no trace of anyone having been there at all.</p> <p>Far away, in an unknown location, the members of the classroom awoke to find themselves no longer inside the classroom, nor even in the school. Instead, the hot sun bathed them with its warm embrace, the floor beneath now no longer made of wood and concrete, but of sand.</p> <p>They were marooned.</p> <p>Gathering their bearings, the group began to assess their situation.</p> <p>“What the fuck?!” Zeke said, beginning to scan his new surroundings.</p> <p>“I…how is this possible? We were just in the class!” Sarah said, wiping the sand out of her hair.</p> <p>“M-maybe this is some elaborate prank?” Sam said.</p> <p>“How the fuck would that work, Sam?” Zeke snapped.</p> <p>“Well, maybe we were drugged. Yeah, that’s it! We got drugged!”</p> <p>“Then what about the earthquake? And the stuff outside?” said Jack.</p> <p>“The earthquake could’ve been a helicopter, and the shit we saw would’ve been due to the drugs. This is <em>all</em> just some elaborate prank,” said Sam, still trying to find a rational reason for their circumstance.</p> <p>“So we got drugged, kidnapped, and you think this is some fucking prank?! How dense do you-” Sarah began, but stopped as she noticed a strange object lying on the sand. She picked it up and saw the large text visible on the front of it. The words <em>Lord of the Flies</em> were there in bold, and flipping through the pages, it was indeed the book.</p> <p>“Oh my god… It’s our stuff…” Sarah said, her eyes widening with realization. She immediately began digging through the sand, uncovering an iPod with the song <em>Message In a Bottle</em> shown on its screen.</p> <p>For the next few hours, the group fanned the entire island, finding more of the objects they said back in the classroom, a place that feels infinitely far away. For every second they spent there, every time they looked out at that ever-stretching ocean, their hope grew more and more faint. Finally, once all the objects were discovered, the group reconvened along the islet.</p> <p>“What the fuck is going on, man?!” Zeke said, panic ever-present in his tone.</p> <p>"There's gotta be some cameras hidden here or something. This is all some kind of joke, there's no way we just <em>appeared</em> on some island in the middle of fucking nowhere." Sam said, beginning to walk around the island, scanning the area for any sign of cameras or microphones.</p> <p>"Bullshit! Suppose you're right, and that we all are being pranked, but being drugged? Kidnapped? That ain't no prank," said Jack.</p> <p>"Everyone, stop! I don't know how or why we're here, but we are. If we want to survive, we need to work together," Mr. Johnson said, attempting to group all the now spaced-out students back together.</p> <p>"How do we know he isn't in on this, huh?" Zeke said and pointed at the teacher. "He's the one who started the whole "<em>oh if you were stuck on an island</em>" bullshit!"</p> <p>"Zeke, I would never do that. You're not thinking straight, please calm down." Mr. Johnson said, meeting Zeke's stare.</p> <p>"I…goddamnit!" In a fit of rage, Zeke grabbed a disc off the ground and hurled it as hard as he could. The disc landed against the tree, shattering into pieces.</p> <p>Zeke began to cry, saying, "I…I wanna go home, man. I miss my family, my friends. I wanna go home…"</p> <p>Seeing Zeke, Sarah approaches him and embraces him, tears still falling down Zeke's face. On the horizon, the sun is now touching the sea, the resulting sunset filling the air with vibrant, warm colors.</p> <p>The group begins to huddle close, attempting to stay warm. Out of the darkness, it was Sam's voice that was heard. It was quiet, with no confidence behind it. He simply said, "Do you think we'll be here <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7179">forever</a>?"</p> <p>Attempting to lighten the mood, Jack butt in, "No, we'll get out of here. We have technology, each other, and enough music to make us not go crazy. Hey, who knows, maybe you guys may finally like <em>Jessica</em>."</p> <p>The group chuckled, making Jack smile, happy to see his friends in a good mood. The one happy memory they have on that god-forsaken island.</p> <p>And so, each member of the group slowly fell asleep, some praying for rescue, while others simply dreamt of what they'd do the second they got back home. Some would hug their family, others would check on their pets, but all of them yearned to be home.</p> <p>But deep down, they know it'll never be enough.</p> <p>They’ll die, only surrounded by <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6603">what they brought</a>.</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="/what-would-you-bring">What Would You Bring?</a>" by Cicada3301Fan, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/what-would-you-bring">https://scpwiki.com/what-would-you-bring</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]] "If you were stuck on a deserted island, what would you bring?" Mr. Johnson's words echoed throughout the classroom, the group of teens all giggling at the question. "It's an age-old question, one of the oldest icebreakers known to man. It is the last resort of someone who has nothing else to do or say. So, what would you all bring?" "Oh c'mon, that's too vague. Spice it up a little!" Zeke said. "Same reasoning for your new hairdo today?" Sarah said in response, getting a chuckle from Zeke and the others. "Hey, I was just trying something okay? Besides, I think it suits me." Zeke responded. "Okay, besides the fact that Zeke's hair looks like a piece of roadkill, I do have to agree with him. Let's limit it down to just a category." Sam wittingly chided, pushing up his glasses. "Fine, how about this: You could only listen to one song while marooned on a desert island. What would you listen to?" Mr. Johnson replied. "Oh, //Bohemian Rhapsody//, hands down," Zeke said, an heir of confidence noticeably in his voice. "Hey, gotta respect the choice, but that's not funny enough. //Message In A Bottle// is my choice," Sam said, getting rewarded an eye-roll by everyone present. "Think about it though! It's catchy //and// it fits! It's the perfect choice." "Bro, come on. You'd go nuts listening to that over and over again! Mine is //Jessica// by the Allman Brothers Band." Jack said. "How'd it even work? We'd have no electricity if we were on a deserted island!" Sarah said, prompting Mr. Johnson to point at her with his ruler and coldly state, "Don't be a know-it-all, Sarah. Fine, let's assume that there's some kind of electricity on the island, happy? Now, let's continue. How about video games?" The class began to ponder, with numerous answers being thrown around. Some of them said //Super Smash Bros//, while others said things like //Minecraft//, //Animal Crossing//, and the //Elder Scrolls//. "Alright, alright, settle down. Now, let's keep this going: How about books? Now, don't let these be the basic answers, surprise me. I know I myself am a large Heinlein fan, so my choice is //Stranger In a Strange Land//." "I've heard some good things about //Against the Day//," Sam said, wiping his glasses clear of any stains. "Uuuuuuuh, how about //Ulysses// by James What's-His-Name. It's been sitting on my dad's bookshelf for ages, so might as well see what all the fuss is about," said Zeke. "I'll read //Lord of the Flies//. I can have fun reading while all of you tear each other apart." Sam said, chuckling. The class continued to answer question after question, the thought of being stuck on an island burned into their minds, as if they stared at the sun and it were engraved into them. They could almost see it, those winding beaches, and the salty breeze that blew through their very souls. "Alright, let's move on. Now, l-" Mr. Johnson began, but was quickly cut off as the whole room began to shake. Students began to scream, with others looking out the window, the sight before them unlike any seen before. Outside, there... well, there wasn't even an outside left. What used to be there was now an arrangement of fractals and colors, a barrage of the sights and senses. Infinity itself folded in on itself as if the world was being destroyed and reborn anew. Soon, they became nothing, and out of darkness, they became themselves again. Reborn and destroyed a near infinite amount, time itself unable to keep up. A myriad of colors and feelings bombarded them. Their essences merged and melted, their very beings being plucked by the strings of fate. The last thought any of them could muster, before they drowned in utter infinity, was that of the island. And so, their fate was sealed. The room began to twist and distort, with the walls fading away to endless waves. In a flash of blue light, the world was back to the way it was before, but something was different. The classroom that once held so many people now lay empty and barren, with no trace of anyone having been there at all. Far away, in an unknown location, the members of the classroom awoke to find themselves no longer inside the classroom, nor even in the school. Instead, the hot sun bathed them with its warm embrace, the floor beneath now no longer made of wood and concrete, but of sand. They were marooned. Gathering their bearings, the group began to assess their situation. “What the fuck?!” Zeke said, beginning to scan his new surroundings. “I…how is this possible? We were just in the class!” Sarah said, wiping the sand out of her hair. “M-maybe this is some elaborate prank?” Sam said. “How the fuck would that work, Sam?” Zeke snapped. “Well, maybe we were drugged. Yeah, that’s it! We got drugged!” “Then what about the earthquake? And the stuff outside?” said Jack. “The earthquake could’ve been a helicopter, and the shit we saw would’ve been due to the drugs. This is //all// just some elaborate prank,” said Sam, still trying to find a rational reason for their circumstance. “So we got drugged, kidnapped, and you think this is some fucking prank?! How dense do you-” Sarah began, but stopped as she noticed a strange object lying on the sand. She picked it up and saw the large text visible on the front of it. The words //Lord of the Flies// were there in bold, and flipping through the pages, it was indeed the book. “Oh my god… It’s our stuff…” Sarah said, her eyes widening with realization. She immediately began digging through the sand, uncovering an iPod with the song //Message In a Bottle// shown on its screen. For the next few hours, the group fanned the entire island, finding more of the objects they said back in the classroom, a place that feels infinitely far away. For every second they spent there, every time they looked out at that ever-stretching ocean, their hope grew more and more faint. Finally, once all the objects were discovered, the group reconvened along the islet. “What the fuck is going on, man?!” Zeke said, panic ever-present in his tone. "There's gotta be some cameras hidden here or something. This is all some kind of joke, there's no way we just //appeared// on some island in the middle of fucking nowhere." Sam said, beginning to walk around the island, scanning the area for any sign of cameras or microphones. "Bullshit! Suppose you're right, and that we all are being pranked, but being drugged? Kidnapped? That ain't no prank," said Jack. "Everyone, stop! I don't know how or why we're here, but we are. If we want to survive, we need to work together," Mr. Johnson said, attempting to group all the now spaced-out students back together. "How do we know he isn't in on this, huh?" Zeke said and pointed at the teacher. "He's the one who started the whole "//oh if you were stuck on an island//" bullshit!" "Zeke, I would never do that. You're not thinking straight, please calm down." Mr. Johnson said, meeting Zeke's stare. "I...goddamnit!" In a fit of rage, Zeke grabbed a disc off the ground and hurled it as hard as he could. The disc landed against the tree, shattering into pieces. Zeke began to cry, saying, "I...I wanna go home, man. I miss my family, my friends. I wanna go home..." Seeing Zeke, Sarah approaches him and embraces him, tears still falling down Zeke's face. On the horizon, the sun is now touching the sea, the resulting sunset filling the air with vibrant, warm colors. The group begins to huddle close, attempting to stay warm. Out of the darkness, it was Sam's voice that was heard. It was quiet, with no confidence behind it. He simply said, "Do you think we'll be here [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7179\|forever]]]?" Attempting to lighten the mood, Jack butt in, "No, we'll get out of here. We have technology, each other, and enough music to make us not go crazy. Hey, who knows, maybe you guys may finally like //Jessica//." The group chuckled, making Jack smile, happy to see his friends in a good mood. The one happy memory they have on that god-forsaken island. And so, each member of the group slowly fell asleep, some praying for rescue, while others simply dreamt of what they'd do the second they got back home. Some would hug their family, others would check on their pets, but all of them yearned to be home. But deep down, they know it'll never be enough. They’ll die, only surrounded by [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6603\|what they brought]]]. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Cicada3301Fan]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-09-09T15:15:00	[ "_licensebox", "news-prompt", "tale" ]	What Would You Bring? - SCP Foundation	20	[ "scp-7179", "scp-6603", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "scp-series-7-tales-edition" ]	[]	1449929780	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/what-would-you-bring
when-day-broke-the-unbreakable-reptile	<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%3Apenumbra/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by TopHatBionicle</p> </div> <p>When you’re assigned to SCP-682, they tell you there are three laws of nature that you <em>must</em> believe:</p> <ol> <li>There is no such thing as immortality. Everything will die eventually, be it from murder, accidents, or just old age.</li> <li>Everything has a weakness. If everything can die, then anything can be made to die. Anything can be killed.</li> <li>Under no circumstances can you believe, even for a second, even subconsciously, that SCP-682 can’t be killed.</li> </ol> <p>Of course, those apply more to the researchers trying to terminate SCP-682, but I still believed them wholeheartedly. I wasn’t here to try to terminate 682, though. I am — was — a psychologist, sent in by the Foundation to try to study the Reptile and make a psychological profile of it. Essentially, I was trying to understand how the mind of pure destruction and hatred worked. It was part of a new initiative in the Foundation: trying to improve the containment procedures of sentient SCPs through understanding them psychologically, and maybe even find a way to make them more complacent and reduce the number of attempted breaches. Everyone said I was mad when I requested 682. Maybe I am, maybe I wouldn’t have been here if I wasn’t mad, but here I was every day for a month, staring at a giant, murderous, Hard-to-Destroy Reptile in a vat of acid.</p> <p>And I think it was staring back at me.</p> <p>I knew 682 would never cooperate with questioning, or knowingly give me any insight into its psyche, so I resolved to sit and watch it until it started talking to me. Every day I sat with a pen and notebook, watching the Reptile, and when he had nothing better to do, he watched me back. It felt like I was Clarice Starling staring at Hannibal Lecter, except Hannibal at least talked. I knew 682 found me and all the other researchers “disgusting”. I knew it wanted all life on Earth dead, but I wondered if maybe, just maybe, curiosity would get the better of him.</p> <p>We’ll never know, because one day the Sun decided that it wanted all life on Earth dead, too.</p> <p><br/></p> <hr/> <p><br/> <br/> On that day, I stood in disbelief, in a doorway just barely out of the reach of the sunlight, staring out into the sun-bleached world. Heat charred the bare Earth. Reds and oranges danced and pulsated where there were once greens and blues. Friends and coworkers were melting, turning the landscape into a nightmare surrealist painting, yet all I could stare at was 682. Flesh melted off the Reptile’s back almost as fast as it could regenerate it, maybe faster. It smelled like burnt rotting flesh and hatred, and sounded like tar bubbling and boiling in the deepest pits of Hell. What terrified me in that moment, more than the containment breach, more than the melted people around me, more than the hateful Sun, was that no matter what adaptations it tried, the Reptile was still melting.</p> <p>And despite myself, despite everything I’d held faith in and worked for, despite the three natural laws that I’d held higher than any regulation, rule, or religion, I couldn’t believe it.</p> <p>I couldn’t believe that SCP-682 was dying.</p> <p>After several failed adaptations, 682 resorted to piling the already melted flesh on top of itself and curling up as small as possible, in an effort to avoid being exposed to more light. It huddled under the mass of wiggling flesh that had melted off its back, even as it seemed the flesh itself was trying to get away. Curled up under an umbrella of its own melted back, shying away from any sunlight that threatened to touch it, 682 almost looked scared.</p> <p>The Reptile must’ve noticed me staring at it, because it then did the one thing I’d wanted it to do for weeks: It spoke to me.</p> <p><strong>“I don’t want your pity, human.”</strong> It turned to look at me, ignoring the sunlight melting the tip of its snout to do so. <strong>“Aren’t you happy? You finally found a way to kill me. Isn’t that what every disgusting human in this wretched place wanted?”</strong></p> <p>“Not like this.” I finally found my voice. “All I wanted — all the Foundation ever wanted — was to protect humanity. Killing you at the cost of humanity itself? That’s not a victory. That’s the worst defeat we could’ve had.” Then my anger rose, along with my voice. “Aren’t <em>you</em> happy? Almost every living thing on Earth is dying. Isn’t that what <em>you</em> wanted?”</p> <p>SCP-682 may have chuckled, or maybe it was just the boiling of melted flesh, but even through all the heat, the Reptile’s voice still sent a chill up my spine.</p> <p><strong>“I know death. I revel in death. I want death for every disgusting creature that lives! But this…”</strong> 682 snarled at the flesh, hissing like a snake. <strong>“This is worse than death. Worse than life. Worse than anything either of us could imagine. Even for something as revolting as you, this is not a punishment I would wish.”</strong></p> <p>“Is that why you are coming back inside?” I don’t know why I said it, or why I kept talking after I saw the anger flare up in the Reptile’s eyes. “You hate all life. Does that include yourself? Do you think this death — or, ‘not death’ — is a fitting punishment for you?”</p> <p>I knew I was signing my own death certificate. 682’s hatred eclipsed its survival instinct, and it slowly got up and lumbered toward me, dragging the flesh on its back with it. In hindsight, I should’ve run. I should’ve at least closed the door. I still can’t figure out why I didn’t. The Reptile collapsed before it got back inside, before it could even get close enough to hurt me. More and more of its body melted, and its regeneration tried desperately to keep up.</p> <p>I must have been hallucinating, or maybe it was just a piece of melting flesh, but I swear I saw a tear fall from 682’s eye.</p> <p>“Does it hurt?” was all I could think to say. A stupid question really, and one I should never have asked, but 682’s answer surprised and terrified me.</p> <p><strong>“Not the way you’d think it does. You and your ‘termination attempts’ have caused me far greater pain.”</strong> The Reptile shifted under the weight of its own melted flesh, turning to look me right in the eyes. <strong>“Do you want another tidbit for your database, Little Scientist? I’ll give you one. Every one of your attempts to kill me has been excruciatingly painful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of regenerating after each one. It seems that part of my curse is to feel twice the pain while healing than what I felt from the injury.”</strong></p> <p>My mind raced through every termination attempt on 682, every painful procedure, every excruciating moment the Foundation had put it through.</p> <p>I didn’t even know a quarter of them, but I already wanted to hurl.</p> <p><strong>“But this is nothing like that,”</strong> the Reptile continued. <strong>“The melting doesn’t hurt at all, not physically, and the regeneration is little more than a tingle. No, the only pain I feel is from knowing what I’m becoming, and what I have to admit to myself.”</strong></p> <p>682 inched closer. I should’ve left. I should’ve closed the door. I definitely shouldn’t have asked any other questions.</p> <p>“What ARE you becoming?” I choked out. “And what do you have to admit?”</p> <p>The Reptile dragged itself to within centimeters of the door. I still couldn’t look away. I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing.</p> <p><strong>“I have to admit that you were right,”</strong> 682 snarled. <strong>“That deep down, there’s no living thing I hate more than myself. That every day I wished your next attempt to kill me would succeed, and I could finally pass into eternal damnation. And that, maybe, melting into an undying pile of flesh is the only punishment I could truly deserve.”</strong></p> <p><strong>“As for what I’m becoming,”</strong> it said, finally pushing up from its crouch, <strong>“<em>that</em> should become obvious soon enough.”</strong></p> <p>Oh God, how do I even describe the sound it made? It was like a cry of pain and a sigh of relief, a scream of hatred, and a shout of pure joy all rolled into one. 682 threw the flesh that had been shielding it off its back, stood on its hind legs, and screamed at the Sun. As long as I live, I will never forget seeing 682 melt and regenerate and melt constantly as the Sun beat down on it. The pile of flesh grew bigger and bigger as the Reptile shed its melting skins one after another, each one wriggling and writhing as if it was alive.</p> <p>I think I know what Hell looks like.</p> <p>All I could do was stare in horror as 682 threw layer after layer of melted skin off its body. I’ve seen 682 survive tortures and mutilations crafted by the most sadistic minds on Earth, and yet this… this was more horrific than all of them combined. It was like the Sun was fighting 682’s regeneration to see which was faster, and 682 was helping the Sun.</p> <p>Suddenly I was yanked back and the door closed in front of me. “The hell were you doing?” An MTF shouted at me. “There’s an XK in progress AND 682 broke containment, we have orders to shelter in place so we can do fuck all about it, and you’re just standing there gawking at the doorway while whatever the hell that… hey, you ok?”</p> <p>When you’re assigned to SCP-682, they tell you there are three laws of nature that you <em>must</em> believe:</p> <ol> <li>There is no such thing as immortality. Everything will die eventually, be it from murder, accidents, or just old age.</li> <li>Everything has a weakness. If everything can die, then anything can be made to die. Anything can be killed.</li> <li>Under no circumstances can you believe, even for a second, even subconsciously, that SCP-682 cannot die.</li> </ol> <p>On that day, as I stared blankly at the MTF, all I could say was three words. Three words that, on any other day, would’ve been cause for the greatest celebration the Foundation had ever seen. Three words that, on that day, of all days, were absolutely terrifying.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><br/> <br/> “SCP-682 is dead.”</p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <hr/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <div style="color: #EEEEEE;"> <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/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <em><strong>”Little Scientist? Are you there?”</strong></em></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/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <em><strong>”I don’t hate you anymore, Little Scientist.”</strong></em></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/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <em><strong>”The Sun is so beautiful. I want to share it with you.”</strong></em></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/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <em><strong>”Won't you come out and watch the Sun with me?”</strong></em></p> <p><br/></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <hr/> <p><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="/when-day-broke-the-unbreakable-reptile">When Day Broke the Unbreakable Reptile</a>" by TopHatBionicle, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/when-day-broke-the-unbreakable-reptile">https://scpwiki.com/when-day-broke-the-unbreakable-reptile</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:penumbra">:scp-wiki:theme:penumbra</a>]] [[module css]] :root { --accentColor: #FF5512; --header-title: "DAYBREAK"; --header-subtitle: "SOL'S CRUEL PLANET"; --lgurl: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/daybreak/daybreaklogo.png"); } #page-title { display: none; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by TopHatBionicle [[/div]] When you’re assigned to SCP-682, they tell you there are three laws of nature that you //must// believe: # There is no such thing as immortality. Everything will die eventually, be it from murder, accidents, or just old age. # Everything has a weakness. If everything can die, then anything can be made to die. Anything can be killed. # Under no circumstances can you believe, even for a second, even subconsciously, that SCP-682 can’t be killed. Of course, those apply more to the researchers trying to terminate SCP-682, but I still believed them wholeheartedly. I wasn’t here to try to terminate 682, though. I am -- was -- a psychologist, sent in by the Foundation to try to study the Reptile and make a psychological profile of it. Essentially, I was trying to understand how the mind of pure destruction and hatred worked. It was part of a new initiative in the Foundation: trying to improve the containment procedures of sentient SCPs through understanding them psychologically, and maybe even find a way to make them more complacent and reduce the number of attempted breaches. Everyone said I was mad when I requested 682. Maybe I am, maybe I wouldn’t have been here if I wasn’t mad, but here I was every day for a month, staring at a giant, murderous, Hard-to-Destroy Reptile in a vat of acid. And I think it was staring back at me. I knew 682 would never cooperate with questioning, or knowingly give me any insight into its psyche, so I resolved to sit and watch it until it started talking to me. Every day I sat with a pen and notebook, watching the Reptile, and when he had nothing better to do, he watched me back. It felt like I was Clarice Starling staring at Hannibal Lecter, except Hannibal at least talked. I knew 682 found me and all the other researchers “disgusting”. I knew it wanted all life on Earth dead, but I wondered if maybe, just maybe, curiosity would get the better of him. We’ll never know, because one day the Sun decided that it wanted all life on Earth dead, too. _ ------ _ On that day, I stood in disbelief, in a doorway just barely out of the reach of the sunlight, staring out into the sun-bleached world. Heat charred the bare Earth. Reds and oranges danced and pulsated where there were once greens and blues. Friends and coworkers were melting, turning the landscape into a nightmare surrealist painting, yet all I could stare at was 682. Flesh melted off the Reptile’s back almost as fast as it could regenerate it, maybe faster. It smelled like burnt rotting flesh and hatred, and sounded like tar bubbling and boiling in the deepest pits of Hell. What terrified me in that moment, more than the containment breach, more than the melted people around me, more than the hateful Sun, was that no matter what adaptations it tried, the Reptile was still melting. And despite myself, despite everything I’d held faith in and worked for, despite the three natural laws that I’d held higher than any regulation, rule, or religion, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that SCP-682 was dying. After several failed adaptations, 682 resorted to piling the already melted flesh on top of itself and curling up as small as possible, in an effort to avoid being exposed to more light. It huddled under the mass of wiggling flesh that had melted off its back, even as it seemed the flesh itself was trying to get away. Curled up under an umbrella of its own melted back, shying away from any sunlight that threatened to touch it, 682 almost looked scared. The Reptile must’ve noticed me staring at it, because it then did the one thing I’d wanted it to do for weeks: It spoke to me. “I don’t want your pity, human.” It turned to look at me, ignoring the sunlight melting the tip of its snout to do so. “Aren’t you happy? You finally found a way to kill me. Isn’t that what every disgusting human in this wretched place wanted?” “Not like this.” I finally found my voice. “All I wanted -- all the Foundation ever wanted -- was to protect humanity. Killing you at the cost of humanity itself? That’s not a victory. That’s the worst defeat we could’ve had.” Then my anger rose, along with my voice. “Aren’t //you// happy? Almost every living thing on Earth is dying. Isn’t that what //you// wanted?” SCP-682 may have chuckled, or maybe it was just the boiling of melted flesh, but even through all the heat, the Reptile’s voice still sent a chill up my spine. “I know death. I revel in death. I want death for every disgusting creature that lives! But this…” 682 snarled at the flesh, hissing like a snake. “This is worse than death. Worse than life. Worse than anything either of us could imagine. Even for something as revolting as you, this is not a punishment I would wish.” “Is that why you are coming back inside?” I don’t know why I said it, or why I kept talking after I saw the anger flare up in the Reptile’s eyes. “You hate all life. Does that include yourself? Do you think this death -- or, ‘not death’ -- is a fitting punishment for you?” I knew I was signing my own death certificate. 682’s hatred eclipsed its survival instinct, and it slowly got up and lumbered toward me, dragging the flesh on its back with it. In hindsight, I should’ve run. I should’ve at least closed the door. I still can’t figure out why I didn’t. The Reptile collapsed before it got back inside, before it could even get close enough to hurt me. More and more of its body melted, and its regeneration tried desperately to keep up. I must have been hallucinating, or maybe it was just a piece of melting flesh, but I swear I saw a tear fall from 682’s eye. “Does it hurt?” was all I could think to say. A stupid question really, and one I should never have asked, but 682’s answer surprised and terrified me. “Not the way you’d think it does. You and your ‘termination attempts’ have caused me far greater pain.” The Reptile shifted under the weight of its own melted flesh, turning to look me right in the eyes. “Do you want another tidbit for your database, Little Scientist? I’ll give you one. Every one of your attempts to kill me has been excruciatingly painful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of regenerating after each one. It seems that part of my curse is to feel twice the pain while healing than what I felt from the injury.” My mind raced through every termination attempt on 682, every painful procedure, every excruciating moment the Foundation had put it through. I didn’t even know a quarter of them, but I already wanted to hurl. “But this is nothing like that,” the Reptile continued. “The melting doesn’t hurt at all, not physically, and the regeneration is little more than a tingle. No, the only pain I feel is from knowing what I’m becoming, and what I have to admit to myself.” 682 inched closer. I should’ve left. I should’ve closed the door. I definitely shouldn’t have asked any other questions. “What ARE you becoming?” I choked out. “And what do you have to admit?” The Reptile dragged itself to within centimeters of the door. I still couldn’t look away. I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “I have to admit that you were right,” 682 snarled. “That deep down, there’s no living thing I hate more than myself. That every day I wished your next attempt to kill me would succeed, and I could finally pass into eternal damnation. And that, maybe, melting into an undying pile of flesh is the only punishment I could truly deserve.” “As for what I’m becoming,” it said, finally pushing up from its crouch, “//that// should become obvious soon enough.” Oh God, how do I even describe the sound it made? It was like a cry of pain and a sigh of relief, a scream of hatred, and a shout of pure joy all rolled into one. 682 threw the flesh that had been shielding it off its back, stood on its hind legs, and screamed at the Sun. As long as I live, I will never forget seeing 682 melt and regenerate and melt constantly as the Sun beat down on it. The pile of flesh grew bigger and bigger as the Reptile shed its melting skins one after another, each one wriggling and writhing as if it was alive. I think I know what Hell looks like. All I could do was stare in horror as 682 threw layer after layer of melted skin off its body. I’ve seen 682 survive tortures and mutilations crafted by the most sadistic minds on Earth, and yet this… this was more horrific than all of them combined. It was like the Sun was fighting 682’s regeneration to see which was faster, and 682 was helping the Sun. Suddenly I was yanked back and the door closed in front of me. “The hell were you doing?” An MTF shouted at me. “There’s an XK in progress AND 682 broke containment, we have orders to shelter in place so we can do fuck all about it, and you’re just standing there gawking at the doorway while whatever the hell that… hey, you ok?” When you’re assigned to SCP-682, they tell you there are three laws of nature that you //must// believe: # There is no such thing as immortality. Everything will die eventually, be it from murder, accidents, or just old age. # Everything has a weakness. If everything can die, then anything can be made to die. Anything can be killed. # Under no circumstances can you believe, even for a second, even subconsciously, that SCP-682 cannot die. On that day, as I stared blankly at the MTF, all I could say was three words. Three words that, on any other day, would’ve been cause for the greatest celebration the Foundation had ever seen. Three words that, on that day, of all days, were absolutely terrifying. [[=]] _ “SCP-682 is dead.” [[collapsible show=" " hide=" "]] ------ [[<]] [[div style="color: #EEEEEE;"]] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ //”Little Scientist? Are you there?”// _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ //”I don’t hate you anymore, Little Scientist.”// _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ //”The Sun is so beautiful. I want to share it with you.”// _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ //”Won't you come out and watch the Sun with me?”// _ [[/div]] [[/<]] [[/collapsible]] [[/=]] ------ _ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=TopHatBionicle]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-04-10T01:00:00	[ "_licensebox", "body-horror", "daybreak", "featured", "hard-to-destroy-reptile", "horror", "post-apocalyptic", "tale" ]	When Day Broke the Unbreakable Reptile - SCP Foundation	291	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "scp-series-1-tales-edition", "featured-tale-archive-ii" ]	[]	1447227709	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-day-broke-the-unbreakable-reptile
when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever	<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> <div class="psuedocrumbs"> <p><a href="/yggdrasils-surveyor">Yggdrasil's Surveyor Hub</a> » When I Was A Child, I Had A Fever</p> </div> <p><em>Head feels</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>Fuzzy</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/> <em>Can't think</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>Straight</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/> <em>Was I concussed?</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>Silvia's not going to be happy</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/> <em>Where am I?</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I can't tell 'now' from 'then'</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/> <em>I'm in the backyard of my childhood home</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I'm in a cold and muddy warzone</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/> <em>A cool breeze pierces the humid summer air</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>My fingers are numb against the snowy ground</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/> <em>I'm three years old</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>How old am I now?</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/> <em>I'm staring down at a mangy squirrel, its legs twitching uselessly on its side</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I'm staring up at a mangy man, his axe soaked with blood</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/> <strong><em>They look at me, their thoughts inscrutable</em></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><br/> <em>I crouch down, wanting to check if the squirrel's okay</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I scramble back, wary of the man's intentions for me</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/> <em>I feel a sharp pain on my right palm</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I feel a sharp pain on my left foot</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/> <em>The squirrel bit me!</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>The bastard's twisting my ankle with his boot!</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/> <strong><em>Everything goes dark</em></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><br/> <strong><em>I don't know how much time has passed after I awaken</em></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><br/> <em>I'm in my bedroom, my mother pressing a cool cloth against my head</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I'm in what looks like a throne room, shoved onto my stomach by someone behind me</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/> <em>She looks relieved that I'm awake</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I feel nothing but contempt, from the eyes that are on me</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/> <em>Her voice is gentle</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>Their voices are guttural and filled with rage</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/> <em>I've been out cold with a fever for almost a week</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><em>I can see it's nighttime now</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/> <em>My mother wasn't sure I was going to wake up</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I'm grabbed roughly by the back of the neck</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/> <em>She sat by my bedside every day, praying for me to open my eyes</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I'm now in front of a stern, one-eyed man</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/> <em>The doctor walks in a few moments later</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>He scrutinizes me, and then recoils in his chair</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/> <strong><em>Nobody says a word, for what feels like an eternity</em></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><br/> <em>The doctor says that my vitals are clean, no sign of infection or anything</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>The one-eyed man dismisses everyone else in the room</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/> <em>The only sign the squirrel had ever been there was the scar on my hand</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>He gets up off of his chair, and kneels down in front of me</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/> <strong><em>He places his hand on me</em></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><br/> <em>He tells me that I'm lucky to be alive</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>He says something to me, a word, or maybe even a name.</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/> <em>I could have gotten an infection, or worse, rabies</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>I try to tell him that I don't understand what he's saying</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/> <strong><em>But I can't get any words out</em></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><br/> <em>I'm just happy to see my mother smiling at me</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <em>My head hurts to much for me to form coherent words</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/> <em>Wait</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> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><em>Things are clearing up now</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/> <em>I can feel the pull</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> <em>The tug that means I'm going home</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/> <em>My mother's smile seems sadder now, for some reason</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/> <em>The one eyed man looks panicked, afraid as I start to shift</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/> <strong><em>"It's time to go home"</em></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><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/> <em>After the Hand's Healers tend to me</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/> <em>I ask Silvia a question</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/> <em>"What is 'Ratatoskr'?"</em></p> <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="/when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever">When I Was A Child, I Had A Fever</a>" by newnykacolaquantum, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever">https://scpwiki.com/when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever</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> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="/theme:dustjacket">theme:dustjacket</a>]] [[div class="psuedocrumbs"]] [[[yggdrasils-surveyor\|Yggdrasil's Surveyor Hub]]] » When I Was A Child, I Had A Fever [[/div]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] //Head feels// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Fuzzy// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Can't think// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Straight// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Was I concussed?// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Silvia's not going to be happy// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Where am I?// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I can't tell 'now' from 'then'// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm in the backyard of my childhood home// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm in a cold and muddy warzone// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //A cool breeze pierces the humid summer air// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //My fingers are numb against the snowy ground// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm three years old// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //How old am I now?// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm staring down at a mangy squirrel, its legs twitching uselessly on its side// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm staring up at a mangy man, his axe soaked with blood// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //They look at me, their thoughts inscrutable// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I crouch down, wanting to check if the squirrel's okay// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I scramble back, wary of the man's intentions for me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I feel a sharp pain on my right palm// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I feel a sharp pain on my left foot// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The squirrel bit me!// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The bastard's twisting my ankle with his boot!// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Everything goes dark// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I don't know how much time has passed after I awaken// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm in my bedroom, my mother pressing a cool cloth against my head// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm in what looks like a throne room, shoved onto my stomach by someone behind me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //She looks relieved that I'm awake// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I feel nothing but contempt, from the eyes that are on me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Her voice is gentle// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Their voices are guttural and filled with rage// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I've been out cold with a fever for almost a week// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@//I can see it's nighttime now// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //My mother wasn't sure I was going to wake up// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm grabbed roughly by the back of the neck// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //She sat by my bedside every day, praying for me to open my eyes// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm now in front of a stern, one-eyed man// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The doctor walks in a few moments later// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //He scrutinizes me, and then recoils in his chair// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Nobody says a word, for what feels like an eternity// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The doctor says that my vitals are clean, no sign of infection or anything// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The one-eyed man dismisses everyone else in the room// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The only sign the squirrel had ever been there was the scar on my hand// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //He gets up off of his chair, and kneels down in front of me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //He places his hand on me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //He tells me that I'm lucky to be alive// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //He says something to me, a word, or maybe even a name.// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I could have gotten an infection, or worse, rabies// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I try to tell him that I don't understand what he's saying// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //But I can't get any words out// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I'm just happy to see my mother smiling at me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //My head hurts to much for me to form coherent words// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //Wait// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@//Things are clearing up now// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I can feel the pull// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The tug that means I'm going home// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //My mother's smile seems sadder now, for some reason// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //The one eyed man looks panicked, afraid as I start to shift// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //"It's time to go home"// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //After the Hand's Healers tend to me// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //I ask Silvia a question// @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ //"What is 'Ratatoskr'?"// [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=newnykacolaquantum]] [!-- N/A (No Images) --] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2023-07-19T11:29:00	[ "_licensebox", "grabnok", "poetry", "tale", "yggdrasil-s-surveyor" ]	When I Was A Child, I Had A Fever - SCP Foundation	12	[ "yggdrasils-surveyor", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "yggdrasils-surveyor", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449078935	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-i-was-a-child-i-had-a-fever
when-in-la-rue	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: right; margin-top: -20px;"> <p><span style="font-size:80%;"><span style="color: #757575">by Dr Moned</span></span></p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"> <blockquote> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Never’n Not, La Rue</strong></span></p> </blockquote> </div> <p>Chatter and noise fill the air. With the smell of freshly cooked meat hitting Six’s nose, he sighs. The ambience of this place was great. Slowly putting down his glass, he smiles at his companion.</p> <p>“I feel as if you are enjoying this too much, Six.” said Four disapprovingly, turning to survey the room.</p> <p>“When in La Rue do what the La Rue’ians do, or something like that.” Taking a last longing glance at the platters of food around him, Six jumps off the barstool. Chatter of twenty or so patrons echo around him, the music of their voices swirling around the humble bar.</p> <p>Quickly drinking in the scene as he left, he saw Four watching him curiously. “What? The damn authentic pub atmosphere in there. I 'aven't felt it in ages. Need to bathe in it yunno, keep me-self grounded.”</p> <p>Four shakes their head wearily. “Who are we meeting here, Six? All you said was that they were an “informant” known to Evans."</p> <p>Six chuckles. “If I told ya that, it’d be no fun.”</p> <p>Four looks at him slowly, an eyebrow raised. Six just winks slowly.</p> <p><em>Eyes subtly follow the pair as they left The Never’n Not. Outsiders weren’t a common occurrence here and these two especially stuck out like a sore thumb. Quickly getting out a notepad, their details were noted down, along with the peculiar chameleon badge upon their shoulder. It never hurt to be careful after all.</em></p> <p>The two slip through the throng in Market Square as the sun retreats below the horizon. The stalls were packing up, but the after-party certainly was not. "Didya get the location I sent?" said Six worriedly.</p> <p>Four stood still for a second, his eyes glazing over. "Take a left out of the square, fifth intact house on the right. You didn't forget already, did you? "</p> <p>"Well, I mighta been busy concentrating on the inn's gossip. Getting interesting info from the locals ya know?"</p> <p>Four sighs, "I'm sure that meal of yours contained a lot of something interesting, though I doubt it was information." Six looks away sheepishly. "I honestly don't know why Evans sends you along."</p> <p>"Oi! I think it is my sparkling charisma, ya sorta loom over people. Ain't good fer sweet talk."</p> <p>"Remind me what happened to the last person you tried "sweet-talking.""</p> <p>"Alright, alright. No need to bring that incident up."</p> <p>Four stops suddenly, Six deftly sidestepping him as if he was used to it. "We are here, I believe." A large inn of a kind lay nestled in the darkness of the trees, the large swinging sign above denoting it as the "Maison du Fonteyn." Four looks up slowly, "If you didn't give me the wrong address, the person we are here to see sh—"</p> <p>"Ooh, one of Andersons', we don't often see your kind around here." A tall, well-built man steps out of the gloom. "The name's Giraud Fonteyn, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."</p> <p>"Ah ha, just who I was lookin fer. You're like, the mayor fer this place, right? Evans sent us over to fix somethin funky that's goin on. Don't look at me like that Four!"</p> <p>"Apologies for my companion," Four said wearily "He is on the eccentric side of insane, fortunately."</p> <p>"Hey!"</p> <p>Giraud smiles, gesturing towards the building behind him. "No worries, we get all types in La Rue; do you want a drink whilst we are here?"</p> <p>"Of cour—"</p> <p>"No thank you, we've been to the pub already and better be getting on. Right, Six?" Replies Four, Six merely groaning in response. "We have been led to believe you possess a map to the location of the… "oddity." As well as a guarantee of safe passage."</p> <p>"I can't fully guarantee safety as there are things in this swamp that even I avoid, but we will have someone watching out for you. As for the path, here you go." Giraud hands Four a slim USB stick, "I had wondered why your boss didn't want a physical map, now I see. Must come in handy."</p> <p>"Blimmin' know-it-all is what 'e is," mutters Six, lightly punching Four in the shoulder.</p> <p>"Thank you for the help, Mr Fonteyn. Apologies if we were interrupting your evening."</p> <p>"No worries at all, I am sure we will meet again. Ah! I forgot to ask your names?"</p> <p>"This is Percy, aka Six. And I am ThreeOne, aka Four. Either works."</p> <p>"Well, good luck to the both of you. It'll be good to finally have that issue fixed."</p> <p>They both watch as Giraud ambles back towards the mansion, the blackness of night pooling behind him. Four inspects the USB before slotting it into a small opening in his wrist. Pausing for a second, he nods to himself. "Let us go then."</p> <p>"So… any reason we're doing this at night? Or do ya just like tormenting me." remarks Six sardonically.</p> <p>"The information on the USB indicates Damnum-004's activity is substantially decreased at night, so I thought it a good time. Though if you are unable to function properly in the dark, I am happy to come back tomorrow."</p> <p>"Smartarse."</p> <p>Four and Six slowly walk through the silent swamp, the decaying buildings of Old La Rue slowly succumbing to the fetid waters. A dark, scratched red sign came into view as they round the corner, carefully avoiding the rotten planks of the decrepit walkway. A slight rustling could be heard from within, akin to the scratching of a quill.</p> <p>"The La Rue Macabre post office, bit of a mouthful." remarks Six.</p> <p>"Indeed, trying to eat it would probably be a bad idea."</p> <p>Six turns, absentmindedly raising a hand to scratch the back of his head, "Sometimes ya scare me. I ain't fully sure if you're joking or not."</p> <p>"My attempts at humour are well received by the majority of people we speak to. Unlike a certain someone."</p> <p>Six grunts, pushing aside a curtain of beads hung by the entrance. His eyes gradually adjust to the dark interior, sheaves of disintegrating papers scattered on the floor. Evading much of the paper waste and murky water, the two navigate toward the front desk. Atop the wooden counter sat a small gold bell, which was promptly rung by Six.</p> <p>"…I think I've found the issue, they're lackin staff. Must be underpayin them or something."</p> <p>"I rather think the issues may stem from <em>that</em>." Four points towards a set of stairs behind the desk, pieces of paper and envelopes continuously sliding down the stairs into the numerous streams of water running through the degrading floor of the building.</p> <p>"It's a post office, nothin' unusual about them 'aving a large number of letters. 'Specially if it has been out of action fer a while."</p> <p>Four levels a stare at Six, before turning back to the stairs as another lump of paper comes tumbling down.</p> <p>"Aight, yeah. I get ya point."</p> <p>Stepping past the desk and into the back office, they pass multiple open cupboards containing abandoned parcels. Six stops numerous times, though a quick look from Four seems to dissuade him from trying to rehome the packages.</p> <p>Unlike most of the ground floor, the stairs themself seem mostly intact, if not rather tough to ascend given the letters coating the surface. Four and Six cautiously climb upwards, keeping to the side as several piles of paper fluidly slide past them.</p> <p>Entering the top floor of the post office, it appears that someone had attempted to clear the paper out to give them access to the end of the room, though both the paper covering the floor and in numerous large piles against the wall suggests that it was just a temporary measure. Beside one of the stacks leant a large broom and hammer; whilst it was clear what the broom was for, the hammer was a bit more of a mystery.</p> <p>Six grabs a small envelope off the top of the nearest pile, "Ooh, this one's a birthday message, gotta ten dollar voucher in! I can't remember the last time my birthday was celebrated."</p> <p>Four ignores him, stepping around the large piles.</p> <p>"Granted, I'm not even sure how old I am at this point, but it's the thought— Ah."</p> <p>Six rounds the corner to see Four staring at a large machine resembling an old printing press. The machine was rather complex, with several different stages appearing to have been bolted on at later dates and for various unknown purposes, though hammer-shaped indents on much of the structure seem like a more recent addition. Despite the significant damage to most of the structure, paper is still entering the press and printed messages are still exiting, getting folded, and then being unceremoniously dumped on the floor.</p> <p>Four knelt, picking up one of the freshly folded letters. Quickly scanning it, he pauses, staring at the date given, "I see, temporal issues, this must be why they called us in. This did not feel like a place that would happily ask for external help."</p> <p>Six threw the birthday letter to Four, "Ah, ya spotted it too. I did think it was a lil' strange they were giftin someone a voucher that wasn't active fer three more years."</p> <p>"I imagine whoever made this machine was trying to get an instantaneous letter travelling system, but they went a bit too far into the future, giving it a rather large backlog of letters to produce."</p> <p>"Alright, simple then. Ya got the thingy? If we get this done fast I've 'alf a mind to get another pint."</p> <p>Four shrugs his backpack onto the floor, pulling out a wired rectangular device and placing it next to the printing press. Once the device was set up he grabs some poles, a small spinning cube, and a power bank from the backpack. Plugging the power bank into the initial device, he throws the poles and cube to Six who clips it all together, placing it on the opposite side of the printing press. Switching the power bank on, Four boots up the wired device.</p> <p>"Heya Four, didya read the rest of this document ya 'ad?"</p> <p>"No, I merely read the date stated."</p> <p>"Thought ya might've. This thing reads real weird like. I mean I'm no fancy doctor man, but this is a formal document and uh, well, give it a look."</p> <p>"Will do. Though I may need a minute, something's wrong with the nullification field."</p> <p>Loud creaking and groaning echo around the room as the printing press appears to strain outwards.</p> <p>"Ya know what, Four. That don't seem quite right either. I've a bad—"</p> <p>Before Six could continue, a scream full of papers and ink sears through his head, causing his vision to swim. "Motherfucker. A Lost One is 'ere. Hey, Four, ya good?"</p> <p>"I appear to be unaffected. Though I may have to increase the power drain of the ETNC to try force it out."<span style="font-size:0%;">Evans Tachyon Nullification Construct.</span></p> <p>As Four tries to increase the intensity of the nullification field, the screaming continues to grow in volume.</p> <p>"Hey Four, ya nearly done yet?"</p> <p>"I cannot say as it is currently resisting rather strongly. The lost one seems particularly attached to this concept."</p> <p>"Right, if this gonna take ages, we're gonna give my version a go."</p> <p>Four turns to see Six holding the hammer that was leaning up against the wall.</p> <p>"I would highly advise against this."</p> <p>"You've 'ad plenty of time to do techy shit and I really can't deal with this fucker in my 'ead fer much longer."</p> <p>Four sighs, "I doubt it'll do anything…"</p> <p>"On the contrary, it'll surely make me feel far better."</p> <p>Taking up a poorly imitated baseball stance, Six swings the hammer directly towards the rapidly spinning printing wheel causing a large bang. The cylinder appears to resist strongly against Six for a moment before rapidly flying towards the wall behind Four, leaving it embedded deep in a large wooden pillar. On the other end, Six is sent stumbling backwards, collapsing into some papers as a small green chameleon badge comes flying out of his pocket. After a few seconds the machine grinds to a halt entirely, ceasing the creation and modification of all paper.</p> <p>Six slowly pulls himself to his feet, pushing aside the paper around him and grabbing his trinket. "See, this is why Evans sends me. I can think outside the box."</p> <p>"Hitting things till they break seems like very in-box behaviour for you, though I certainly admit I wouldn't have tried the approach without your… assistance."</p> <p>"Brilliant, glad to 'ear it. Now, can ya shut that asshole in the cylinder up? They're driving me mad."</p> <hr/> <div class="nav"> <div class="cell-container"> <div class="rightmode-{$rightmode} normal"> <div class="side-text-cell full"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/late-night-at-the-office">Late Night at the Office</a></div> </div> <div class="main-text-cell"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three_norns_hub">Three Norns Hub</a></p> </div> <div class="leftmode-{$leftmode} normal small"> <div class="side-text-cell full"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/">⠀???⠀</a></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]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-top: -20px;"]] [[size 80%]]##757575\|by Dr Moned##[[/size]] [[/div]] [[module CSS]] .dividerContainer { background-image: url('http://timebox.wikidot.com/local--files/when-in-la-rue/ArchivistDividerDarkerRue.png'); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: 65%; background-position: center; width: 500px; height: 20px; margin: auto; margin-left: 50%; transform: translateX(-50%); } .computerfix { border:solid 0px #444444; margin-top: -30px; } @media (max-width: 400px) { .computerfix { border:solid 0px #444444; margin-top: -10px; } } [[/module]] [[=]] > __Never’n Not, La Rue__ [[/=]] Chatter and noise fill the air. With the smell of freshly cooked meat hitting Six’s nose, he sighs. The ambience of this place was great. Slowly putting down his glass, he smiles at his companion. “I feel as if you are enjoying this too much, Six.” said Four disapprovingly, turning to survey the room. “When in La Rue do what the La Rue’ians do, or something like that.” Taking a last longing glance at the platters of food around him, Six jumps off the barstool. Chatter of twenty or so patrons echo around him, the music of their voices swirling around the humble bar. Quickly drinking in the scene as he left, he saw Four watching him curiously. “What? The damn authentic pub atmosphere in there. I 'aven't felt it in ages. Need to bathe in it yunno, keep me-self grounded.” Four shakes their head wearily. “Who are we meeting here, Six? All you said was that they were an “informant” known to Evans." Six chuckles. “If I told ya that, it’d be no fun.” Four looks at him slowly, an eyebrow raised. Six just winks slowly. [[div class="dividerContainer"]] [[/div]] //Eyes subtly follow the pair as they left The Never’n Not. Outsiders weren’t a common occurrence here and these two especially stuck out like a sore thumb. Quickly getting out a notepad, their details were noted down, along with the peculiar chameleon badge upon their shoulder. It never hurt to be careful after all.// [[div class="dividerContainer"]] [[/div]] The two slip through the throng in Market Square as the sun retreats below the horizon. The stalls were packing up, but the after-party certainly was not. "Didya get the location I sent?" said Six worriedly. Four stood still for a second, his eyes glazing over. "Take a left out of the square, fifth intact house on the right. You didn't forget already, did you? " "Well, I mighta been busy concentrating on the inn's gossip. Getting interesting info from the locals ya know?" Four sighs, "I'm sure that meal of yours contained a lot of something interesting, though I doubt it was information." Six looks away sheepishly. "I honestly don't know why Evans sends you along." "Oi! I think it is my sparkling charisma, ya sorta loom over people. Ain't good fer sweet talk." "Remind me what happened to the last person you tried "sweet-talking."" "Alright, alright. No need to bring that incident up." Four stops suddenly, Six deftly sidestepping him as if he was used to it. "We are here, I believe." A large inn of a kind lay nestled in the darkness of the trees, the large swinging sign above denoting it as the "Maison du Fonteyn." Four looks up slowly, "If you didn't give me the wrong address, the person we are here to see sh—" "Ooh, one of Andersons', we don't often see your kind around here." A tall, well-built man steps out of the gloom. "The name's Giraud Fonteyn, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "Ah ha, just who I was lookin fer. You're like, the mayor fer this place, right? Evans sent us over to fix somethin funky that's goin on. Don't look at me like that Four!" "Apologies for my companion," Four said wearily "He is on the eccentric side of insane, fortunately." "Hey!" Giraud smiles, gesturing towards the building behind him. "No worries, we get all types in La Rue; do you want a drink whilst we are here?" "Of cour—" "No thank you, we've been to the pub already and better be getting on. Right, Six?" Replies Four, Six merely groaning in response. "We have been led to believe you possess a map to the location of the... "oddity." As well as a guarantee of safe passage." "I can't fully guarantee safety as there are things in this swamp that even I avoid, but we will have someone watching out for you. As for the path, here you go." Giraud hands Four a slim USB stick, "I had wondered why your boss didn't want a physical map, now I see. Must come in handy." "Blimmin' know-it-all is what 'e is," mutters Six, lightly punching Four in the shoulder. "Thank you for the help, Mr Fonteyn. Apologies if we were interrupting your evening." "No worries at all, I am sure we will meet again. Ah! I forgot to ask your names?" "This is Percy, aka Six. And I am ThreeOne, aka Four. Either works." "Well, good luck to the both of you. It'll be good to finally have that issue fixed." They both watch as Giraud ambles back towards the mansion, the blackness of night pooling behind him. Four inspects the USB before slotting it into a small opening in his wrist. Pausing for a second, he nods to himself. "Let us go then." "So... any reason we're doing this at night? Or do ya just like tormenting me." remarks Six sardonically. "The information on the USB indicates Damnum-004's activity is substantially decreased at night, so I thought it a good time. Though if you are unable to function properly in the dark, I am happy to come back tomorrow." "Smartarse." [[div class="dividerContainer"]] [[/div]] Four and Six slowly walk through the silent swamp, the decaying buildings of Old La Rue slowly succumbing to the fetid waters. A dark, scratched red sign came into view as they round the corner, carefully avoiding the rotten planks of the decrepit walkway. A slight rustling could be heard from within, akin to the scratching of a quill. "The La Rue Macabre post office, bit of a mouthful." remarks Six. "Indeed, trying to eat it would probably be a bad idea." Six turns, absentmindedly raising a hand to scratch the back of his head, "Sometimes ya scare me. I ain't fully sure if you're joking or not." "My attempts at humour are well received by the majority of people we speak to. Unlike a certain someone." Six grunts, pushing aside a curtain of beads hung by the entrance. His eyes gradually adjust to the dark interior, sheaves of disintegrating papers scattered on the floor. Evading much of the paper waste and murky water, the two navigate toward the front desk. Atop the wooden counter sat a small gold bell, which was promptly rung by Six. "...I think I've found the issue, they're lackin staff. Must be underpayin them or something." "I rather think the issues may stem from //that//." Four points towards a set of stairs behind the desk, pieces of paper and envelopes continuously sliding down the stairs into the numerous streams of water running through the degrading floor of the building. "It's a post office, nothin' unusual about them 'aving a large number of letters. 'Specially if it has been out of action fer a while." Four levels a stare at Six, before turning back to the stairs as another lump of paper comes tumbling down. "Aight, yeah. I get ya point." Stepping past the desk and into the back office, they pass multiple open cupboards containing abandoned parcels. Six stops numerous times, though a quick look from Four seems to dissuade him from trying to rehome the packages. Unlike most of the ground floor, the stairs themself seem mostly intact, if not rather tough to ascend given the letters coating the surface. Four and Six cautiously climb upwards, keeping to the side as several piles of paper fluidly slide past them. Entering the top floor of the post office, it appears that someone had attempted to clear the paper out to give them access to the end of the room, though both the paper covering the floor and in numerous large piles against the wall suggests that it was just a temporary measure. Beside one of the stacks leant a large broom and hammer; whilst it was clear what the broom was for, the hammer was a bit more of a mystery. Six grabs a small envelope off the top of the nearest pile, "Ooh, this one's a birthday message, gotta ten dollar voucher in! I can't remember the last time my birthday was celebrated." Four ignores him, stepping around the large piles. "Granted, I'm not even sure how old I am at this point, but it's the thought— Ah." Six rounds the corner to see Four staring at a large machine resembling an old printing press. The machine was rather complex, with several different stages appearing to have been bolted on at later dates and for various unknown purposes, though hammer-shaped indents on much of the structure seem like a more recent addition. Despite the significant damage to most of the structure, paper is still entering the press and printed messages are still exiting, getting folded, and then being unceremoniously dumped on the floor. Four knelt, picking up one of the freshly folded letters. Quickly scanning it, he pauses, staring at the date given, "I see, temporal issues, this must be why they called us in. This did not feel like a place that would happily ask for external help." Six threw the birthday letter to Four, "Ah, ya spotted it too. I did think it was a lil' strange they were giftin someone a voucher that wasn't active fer three more years." "I imagine whoever made this machine was trying to get an instantaneous letter travelling system, but they went a bit too far into the future, giving it a rather large backlog of letters to produce." "Alright, simple then. Ya got the thingy? If we get this done fast I've 'alf a mind to get another pint." Four shrugs his backpack onto the floor, pulling out a wired rectangular device and placing it next to the printing press. Once the device was set up he grabs some poles, a small spinning cube, and a power bank from the backpack. Plugging the power bank into the initial device, he throws the poles and cube to Six who clips it all together, placing it on the opposite side of the printing press. Switching the power bank on, Four boots up the wired device. "Heya Four, didya read the rest of this document ya 'ad?" "No, I merely read the date stated." "Thought ya might've. This thing reads real weird like. I mean I'm no fancy doctor man, but this is a formal document and uh, well, give it a look." "Will do. Though I may need a minute, something's wrong with the nullification field." Loud creaking and groaning echo around the room as the printing press appears to strain outwards. "Ya know what, Four. That don't seem quite right either. I've a bad—" Before Six could continue, a scream full of papers and ink sears through his head, causing his vision to swim. "Motherfucker. A Lost One is 'ere. Hey, Four, ya good?" "I appear to be unaffected. Though I may have to increase the power drain of the ETNC to try force it out."[[size 0%]]Evans Tachyon Nullification Construct.[[/size]] As Four tries to increase the intensity of the nullification field, the screaming continues to grow in volume. [[div class="dividerContainer"]] [[/div]] "Hey Four, ya nearly done yet?" "I cannot say as it is currently resisting rather strongly. The lost one seems particularly attached to this concept." "Right, if this gonna take ages, we're gonna give my version a go." Four turns to see Six holding the hammer that was leaning up against the wall. "I would highly advise against this." "You've 'ad plenty of time to do techy shit and I really can't deal with this fucker in my 'ead fer much longer." Four sighs, "I doubt it'll do anything..." "On the contrary, it'll surely make me feel far better." Taking up a poorly imitated baseball stance, Six swings the hammer directly towards the rapidly spinning printing wheel causing a large bang. The cylinder appears to resist strongly against Six for a moment before rapidly flying towards the wall behind Four, leaving it embedded deep in a large wooden pillar. On the other end, Six is sent stumbling backwards, collapsing into some papers as a small green chameleon badge comes flying out of his pocket. After a few seconds the machine grinds to a halt entirely, ceasing the creation and modification of all paper. Six slowly pulls himself to his feet, pushing aside the paper around him and grabbing his trinket. "See, this is why Evans sends me. I can think outside the box." "Hitting things till they break seems like very in-box behaviour for you, though I certainly admit I wouldn't have tried the approach without your... assistance." "Brilliant, glad to 'ear it. Now, can ya shut that asshole in the cylinder up? They're driving me mad." ---- [[div class="computerfix"]] [[/div]] [[div class="nav"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:advanced-navigation-toolbar-source">:scp-wiki:component:advanced-navigation-toolbar-source</a> dual= false \|styleNum= two \|prev= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/late-night-at-the-office \|prevtext= Late Night at the Office \|prevImage= http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:advanced-navigation-toolbar/Prev.png \|hub= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/three_norns_hub \|hubtext= Three Norns Hub \|next= https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ \|nexttext=⠀???⠀ \|nextImage= http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:advanced-navigation-toolbar/Next.png ]] [[/div]]	2023-08-08T23:44:00	[ "tale" ]	When In La Rue - SCP Foundation	9	[ "late-night-at-the-office", "three_norns_hub" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449314318	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-in-la-rue
when-the-stars-fell-down	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The forever seamless architecture, always covered with blood and guts, once in a lifetime darkened by the stars which fell down from the sky. But these are not the stars, neither feathers from the crows, but truly snow on the ground.</p> <p>Cold, really cold, it turns my claws into hard shaking blocks of ice, I gaze upon my writing and I can’t tell what is tachygraphy and what is a scratch.</p> <p>The company of others of my kind I wish to help me hold the weight of this unfamiliar frost. I can’t hear any rhythmic noise, not from the cracks under the confused citizen's footsteps, but the lethargic murmur of the breeze.</p> <p>The aroma of mold is gone and all I can perceive is nothing but a sharp pain sensation up my nostrils crawling down my lungs.</p> <p>The city boiling in activity is now all behind doors. Resting? Perhaps. I see warm candlelights escaping to the outside, to the streets where nobody is. Who knows the whereabouts of the rulers. Are they celebrating? Are they hiding indoors? Or are they the cause of this event? In which case, what is the goal? If it’s any with a true logic explanation. I fear I’ll never ever know the true cause. It hurts me deeply, like crystallized shards on my palms.</p> <p>The shore is hard under my weight. The black seas flooding most of the Nevermeant is now a slippery surface dangerous to most beings unable to master the art of glide. A joy I really wish I could benefit at this very moment.</p> <p>My breath is panting as I climb up the hill. I tighten my robes close to my beak in a way to prevent inhalation of the cold and the fur of my hat keeps my thoughts straight as I continue taking notes. Yet the heat escapes, emanating the little life left from me. I fear I wont’ be able to withstand for so long this odd cirscumtances, yet not so terrible for the people under a mask.</p> <p>“To home I go!” exclaimed one lonely citizen fleeing from my sight, and to never see no one else again.</p> <p>The views are dark, yet the yellow sky is bright enough to cut the silhouettes of the tallest towers which tops touch both the ground and the sky. The trees keep standing whose roots drink nothing else but blood and hateful thoughts deep beneath the tombs from below. The snow of the branches makes them look sad, strong enough to hold the weight of a criminal, but weak as the cold cracks the insides, shattering and turning into crystals as it touch the ground.</p> <p>The soil is frosted and fragmented as I get close to my end point. The splinters I fear way wound me as I walk. What is hell for me is a heaven to some. What is this snow after all? Both suffering and delight are part of the Alagaddans existence. It’s death and joy by equal.</p> <p>The bitterly cold hurts me one last time, as I close my eyes and shake my feathers afraid I may carry the cold and dark dust with me.</p> <p>Now at a place I can call home I write my report about the start that felt from the sky as I overdose on my tea and the tips of my claws turns back to their usual ink stained black. I keep my posture as I try not to write: Holy shit, why is it so fucking cold in Alagadda?</p> <p><em>Yiks the Crafter, Seventh Wandswoman of Ghak'eolds</em></p> <p><em>Originally published in the Wandsmen's Gazette on 02-01-2023</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="/when-the-stars-fell-down">When The Stars Fell</a>" by Jadeitor, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/when-the-stars-fell-down">https://scpwiki.com/when-the-stars-fell-down</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> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jadeitor" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2150313); return false;"><img alt="Jadeitor" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2150313&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332679" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2150313)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/jadeitor" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2150313); return false;">Jadeitor</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0</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>]] [[module CSS]] /* code/variables goes here / :root { / S-CSS-P Integration / / If you're making a new CSS theme, please include the following three variables at minimum. / --theme-base: "black-highlighter"; / must be either "black-highlighter" or "sigma9" / --theme-id: "wandsmen-theme"; / set this to the URL of your theme's page - eg for "component:ar-theme", set it to "ar-theme" / --theme-name: "Wandsmen Theme"; / set this to your theme's full name / --header-title: "The Wandsmen"; --header-subtitle: "Pursuing the Right, and the True"; --logo-image: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/wandsmen-hub/wandsmen.png"); --background: linear-gradient(0.99 turn, #a11cff, #a11cff, #a11cff); / A grey gradient / --pale-accent: 100, 5, 50; / light grey, for visited links (and unvisited) / --bright-accent: 100, 5, 50; / bright grey / --medium-accent: 100, 5, 50; / medium/light grey - the "default" accent color / --dark-accent: 100, 5, 50; / dark grey / --alt-accent: 100, 5, 50; / light grey / } /Code for background color/ body { background-color: #cccccc; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] The forever seamless architecture, always covered with blood and guts, once in a lifetime darkened by the stars which fell down from the sky. But these are not the stars, neither feathers from the crows, but truly snow on the ground. Cold, really cold, it turns my claws into hard shaking blocks of ice, I gaze upon my writing and I can’t tell what is tachygraphy and what is a scratch. The company of others of my kind I wish to help me hold the weight of this unfamiliar frost. I can’t hear any rhythmic noise, not from the cracks under the confused citizen's footsteps, but the lethargic murmur of the breeze. The aroma of mold is gone and all I can perceive is nothing but a sharp pain sensation up my nostrils crawling down my lungs. The city boiling in activity is now all behind doors. Resting? Perhaps. I see warm candlelights escaping to the outside, to the streets where nobody is. Who knows the whereabouts of the rulers. Are they celebrating? Are they hiding indoors? Or are they the cause of this event? In which case, what is the goal? If it’s any with a true logic explanation. I fear I’ll never ever know the true cause. It hurts me deeply, like crystallized shards on my palms. The shore is hard under my weight. The black seas flooding most of the Nevermeant is now a slippery surface dangerous to most beings unable to master the art of glide. A joy I really wish I could benefit at this very moment. My breath is panting as I climb up the hill. I tighten my robes close to my beak in a way to prevent inhalation of the cold and the fur of my hat keeps my thoughts straight as I continue taking notes. Yet the heat escapes, emanating the little life left from me. I fear I wont’ be able to withstand for so long this odd cirscumtances, yet not so terrible for the people under a mask. “To home I go!” exclaimed one lonely citizen fleeing from my sight, and to never see no one else again. The views are dark, yet the yellow sky is bright enough to cut the silhouettes of the tallest towers which tops touch both the ground and the sky. The trees keep standing whose roots drink nothing else but blood and hateful thoughts deep beneath the tombs from below. The snow of the branches makes them look sad, strong enough to hold the weight of a criminal, but weak as the cold cracks the insides, shattering and turning into crystals as it touch the ground. The soil is frosted and fragmented as I get close to my end point. The splinters I fear way wound me as I walk. What is hell for me is a heaven to some. What is this snow after all? Both suffering and delight are part of the Alagaddans existence. It’s death and joy by equal. The bitterly cold hurts me one last time, as I close my eyes and shake my feathers afraid I may carry the cold and dark dust with me. Now at a place I can call home I write my report about the start that felt from the sky as I overdose on my tea and the tips of my claws turns back to their usual ink stained black. I keep my posture as I try not to write: Holy shit, why is it so fucking cold in Alagadda? //Yiks the Crafter, Seventh Wandswoman of Ghak'eolds// //Originally published in the Wandsmen's Gazette on 02-01-2023// [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Author:* [[user jadeitor]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-02T22:34:00	[ "_licensebox", "alagadda", "coldpostcon", "tale", "wandsmen" ]	When The Stars Fell - SCP Foundation	16	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "wandsmen-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "coldpostcon" ]	[]	1445377194	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-the-stars-fell-down
when-will-my-life-make-sense	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <blockquote> <p><span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> Hey<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> So I just stumbled onto something<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> And I remember you said you were looking for that guy<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> And I'm not for sure certain<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> But I stumbled on this recording and well.<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> Thought it would be worth sharing anyway.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life</strong></span> uploaded file <span class="member0">RCHS-talent-show-song.mp3</span> 5.1 mb <strong><span class="click">⬇</span></strong></p> </blockquote> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Transcript</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 class="blockquote"> <p><em>Audience murmuring</em></p> <p><strong>Young man:</strong> Uh hel- hello. Um, my name is Eric. If you don’t recognize me it’s ‘cause I moved here in the middle of the year and, um, I’m pretty quiet.</p> <p><strong>Eric:</strong> Um, I wasn’t even gonna do anything for this, but then I wrote down some words about that- th-the moving here, and my friend Theresa said I should sing it for you guys, and I said absolutely not. But then she won a bet, so—</p> <p><em>Audience chuckles</em></p> <p><strong>Eric:</strong> Yeah, here we are. Um, I’m— so I’m gonna— or actually, should the mic be, uh, closer to the guitar? Maybe? Sorry, I don’t— I don’t do this. I don’t really do anything so… I hope this goes well.</p> <p><em>Guitar music starts playing</em></p> <p><strong>Eric:</strong> So you’re 3<br/> Golly gee<br/> Just as playful as a child ought to be<br/> And you love every day<br/> As you draw and you play<br/> And this is life as far as you can see</p> <p>But one day they take your crayons and your toys<br/> And say its time to play with other girls and boys</p> <p>But the other kids don’t like you<br/> You’re not sure they ever will<br/> And it’s not like you don’t try to<br/> But you just don’t have the skill<br/> And you wish that you could leave now<br/> And go back to play pretend<br/> But one question just never ends:<br/> When will I make some friends?</p> <p>So you’re 8<br/> Ain’t it great?<br/> Life is magic if you only concentrate<br/> You add sums up at school<br/> And online you are cool<br/> ‘Cause you stay up on the chat rooms ’til it’s late</p> <p>But one day you realize all you’ve done wrong<br/> You’re a child but you still don’t belong</p> <p>‘Cause the other kids don’t like you<br/> And you doubt they ever will<br/> And it’s not like you don’t try to<br/> But you just don’t have the skill<br/> And you wish that you could leave now<br/> And regain your innocence<br/> But you’re too old for this pretense<br/> When will I find good friends?</p> <p>And so you just stay lonely<br/> ‘Cause it’s easier that way<br/> Reminders of your childhood<br/> Just start to fade away<br/> But as a teen it finally happens<br/> You make friends, kind and true<br/> And this time the one to screw it up<br/> Is you</p> <p>You’re sixteen<br/> Stuck between<br/> Who you want to be and who you’ve been<br/> And you’re ready to grow<br/> But you don’t even know<br/> How to talk about the things that stay unseen<br/> So get your headphones, get high<br/> Do your best not to cry<br/> And just try to figure out what it all means</p> <p>‘Cause the one you like don’t like you<br/> And you know he never will<br/> And it’s not like you don’t try to<br/> But his wish you can’t fulfill<br/> And you wish that you could stay now<br/> And explain your whole defense<br/> To the only ones who ever were your friends<br/> ‘Cause you don’t know how you could’ve been this dense<br/> And you can’t answer with any confidence:<br/> When will my life make sense?</p> <p><strong>Eric:</strong> Thank you</p> <p><em>Audience applauds.</em></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <blockquote> <p><span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> !!!<br/> <span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> That's him<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> really???<br/> <span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> Yes!<br/> <span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> You found him<br/> <span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> or at least got me one step closer<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> its weird<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> music normally doesn't make me emotional<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> but that made me feel<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> like<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> a lot<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> like really nostalgic and bittersweet<br/> <span class="member"><strong>Waking_Life:</strong></span> but also. kinda magical?<br/> <span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> what can i say<br/> <span class="member2"><strong>CesariosGirl:</strong></span> eric has that effect on people</p> </blockquote> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="/theme:black-highlighter-theme">theme:black-highlighter-theme</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-bi-alt= --]]] [[module css]] .document { display: inline-block; border-radius: 10px; border:solid 1px #ccc; background:#f0f0f0; float:top; width:96.5%; padding: 10px; box-shadow: 0 2px 4px rgba(68, 68, 68, .5); } .click{ cursor: pointer; } .ping, .fakedl{ color: #39e; cursor: pointer; font-weight: bold; } .edit{ color: #666; font-size: 75%; } .edit:hover{ cursor: default; title: "test"; } .ping:hover{ text-decoration: underline; } .member{ color: #39e; } .member0{ color: #fff; } .member2{ color: #9370DB; } .member3{ color: #838; } .member4{ color: #fc2; } .member5{ color: #0c9; } .member6{ color: #c04; } .member7{ color: #d60; } .member:hover, .member0:hover, .member2:hover, .member3:hover, .member4:hover, .member5:hover, .member6:hover, .member7:hover, .fakedl:active{ text-decoration: underline; cursor: pointer; } blockquote { color: #eee; background-color: #223 !important; border: solid 1px #444; } span.member:active, span.member0:active, span.member2:active, span.member3:active, span.member4:active, span.member5:active span.member6:active span.member7:active span.ping:active, span.click:active{ background-color: #99f; border-radius: 4px; } span.link a{ color: #39e; } .newmes{ color: #d00; } .red-hr > hr{ background-color: #d00; bottom: 0.2em; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] Hey > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] So I just stumbled onto something > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] And I remember you said you were looking for that guy > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] And I'm not for sure certain > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] But I stumbled on this recording and well. > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] Thought it would be worth sharing anyway. > = [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life[[/span]] uploaded file [[span class="member0"]]RCHS-talent-show-song.mp3[[/span]] 5.1 mb [[span class="click"]]⬇[[/span]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:audio-player-woed-source">:scp-wiki:component:audio-player-woed-source</a> \|unique-name=wwmlms \|audio-file=http://firedawnfolder.wdfiles.com/local--files/oboe-hub/when-will-my-life-make-sense.mp3 \|background-color=rgb(252, 252, 252) \|border-color=rgb(215, 215, 215) \|border-radius=0.313rem \|dropshadow-color=rgba(12, 12, 12, 0.15) \|text-color=rgb(0, 31, 51) \|icons-color=rgb(0, 65, 106) \|player-color=rgb(215, 215, 215) \|progress-color=rgb(0, 31, 51) ]] [[collapsible show="+ Transcript"]] [[div class="blockquote"]] //Audience murmuring// Young man: Uh hel- hello. Um, my name is Eric. If you don’t recognize me it’s ‘cause I moved here in the middle of the year and, um, I’m pretty quiet. Eric: Um, I wasn’t even gonna do anything for this, but then I wrote down some words about that- th-the moving here, and my friend Theresa said I should sing it for you guys, and I said absolutely not. But then she won a bet, so— //Audience chuckles// Eric: Yeah, here we are. Um, I’m— so I’m gonna— or actually, should the mic be, uh, closer to the guitar? Maybe? Sorry, I don’t— I don’t do this. I don’t really do anything so… I hope this goes well. //Guitar music starts playing// Eric: So you’re 3 Golly gee Just as playful as a child ought to be And you love every day As you draw and you play And this is life as far as you can see But one day they take your crayons and your toys And say its time to play with other girls and boys But the other kids don’t like you You’re not sure they ever will And it’s not like you don’t try to But you just don’t have the skill And you wish that you could leave now And go back to play pretend But one question just never ends: When will I make some friends? So you’re 8 Ain’t it great? Life is magic if you only concentrate You add sums up at school And online you are cool ‘Cause you stay up on the chat rooms ’til it’s late But one day you realize all you’ve done wrong You’re a child but you still don’t belong ‘Cause the other kids don’t like you And you doubt they ever will And it’s not like you don’t try to But you just don’t have the skill And you wish that you could leave now And regain your innocence But you’re too old for this pretense When will I find good friends? And so you just stay lonely ‘Cause it’s easier that way Reminders of your childhood Just start to fade away But as a teen it finally happens You make friends, kind and true And this time the one to screw it up Is you You’re sixteen Stuck between Who you want to be and who you’ve been And you’re ready to grow But you don’t even know How to talk about the things that stay unseen So get your headphones, get high Do your best not to cry And just try to figure out what it all means ‘Cause the one you like don’t like you And you know he never will And it’s not like you don’t try to But his wish you can’t fulfill And you wish that you could stay now And explain your whole defense To the only ones who ever were your friends ‘Cause you don’t know how you could’ve been this dense And you can’t answer with any confidence: When will my life make sense? Eric: Thank you //Audience applauds.// [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] !!! > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] That's him > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] really??? > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] Yes! > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] You found him > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] or at least got me one step closer > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] its weird > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] music normally doesn't make me emotional > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] but that made me feel > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] like > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] a lot > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] like really nostalgic and bittersweet > [[span class="member"]]Waking_Life:[[/span]] but also. kinda magical? > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] what can i say > [[span class="member2"]]CesariosGirl:[[/span]] eric has that effect on people	2023-08-05T19:43:00	[ "audio", "eric", "tale" ]	Talent Show Song: When Will My Life Make Sense? - SCP Foundation	20	[]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "revamped-underread-and-underrated" ]	[]	1449283198	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/when-will-my-life-make-sense
where-eagles-stand-and-jaguars-hunt	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>There were times when Etzli wondered if turning her back on one of the most powerful military corporations in the world was the best idea, but deep down she knew she had done the right thing. Even so, she knew Valravn was not something to be trifled with. Their reputation preceded them. The corporation was infamous for its borderline cultish ideals that mixed hypercapitalism with a warped interpretation of Norse Mythology. They took soldiers and armed them with anomalous weapons, fed them propaganda and sent them to fight for the highest bidder.</p> <p>Among Valravn's infamous ranks were the Valkyries, a regiment of women whose bodies were modified through strange rituals and cybernetic enhancements, courtesy of Dr. Olga Brandt. They called her the "Mother of Valkyries."</p> <p>Brandt always liked to spin it as a form of empowerment, but by now Etzli saw what she was really doing. She was exploiting vulnerable women with no hope, women whose bodies could never function again. And she offered to "fix" them, with the caveat of lifetime service to Valravn. There was no retirement plan for Valkyries except empty promises of "Valhalla." It was just continued service until they died, one way or another. And sometimes even death couldn't free them.</p> <p>Etzli had never asked for the augmentations she had received. The earliest she could remember was waking up in a "hospital" that looked more like a butcher shop, and no memory of her past life. They had the nerve to say she consented to the operation, but she always had her doubts. Those doubts were confirmed when she found the medical report proving she had been clinically braindead before the transformation.</p> <p>But where Valravn saw their Valkyries as property, Etzli had come to view them as family. They were her sisters, and she had been a far better maternal figure to her Eagle Warriors than their so-called "mother" ever could have been. That much had been to her advantage, seeing as the four others who made up the Eagle Warriors were loyal enough to follow her.</p> <p>"Tracking Target,"</p> <p>Etzli perked up as she heard the voice of her lieutenant, Teichuih. They sat across a table from each other. Teicuih's arm was held up in front of her, a screen displayed on it.</p> <p>"Are you okay, Etzli?" Tecuih asked, trying not to take her eyes off the screen.</p> <p>Of course, she'd notice something was bothering Etzli. Teicuih knew her well. Etzli's dedicated lieutenant had been with her as long as she could remember, which in her case was when she joined Valravn.</p> <p>Etzli knew Teicuih’s loyalty knew no bounds. She was ready to catch a bullet for her. She agreed to turn her back on one of the most dangerous military corporations in the world for Etzli. And she would do it all over again if she had to. So it was hardly surprising that she was quick to spot when something was wrong.</p> <p>"Yeah," Etzli muttered. "I'm fine."</p> <p>"It's just you've been very quiet the last few days."</p> <p>"Sorry, it's just… I can't stop thinking about Necca- sorry, Maya."</p> <p>She still needed to get used to Necca switching back to her birth name, but that made her no less a sister. The poor girl was subjected to one of Valravn's "experiments" that were never completed. Now she required assisted living at Site-42, and would probably never walk normally again. But at least she was safe, and well-cared for.</p> <p>"We made sure she's in good hands," Teicuih replied.</p> <p>"I know," Etzli muttered. "But after everything she's gone through… I can't help looking back on it. I wonder if there's something we could have done differently. Maybe… I could have talked her out of it."</p> <p>"There was nothing you could have done," Teichui said. "It's not like you could have known they would shut down the program. It was her choice to participate. You saw how keen she was to prove herself."</p> <p>"Was it her choice, though?" Etzli asked. "You saw how they spoke to her. All that talk about glory and honor, and those promises to finally have what she needed to get back at Sin Nombre. It feels more like they wanted her to think she was volunteering."</p> <p>"Even so," Teicuih replied. "You did your best."</p> <p>"And what if my best wasn't good enough," Etzli replied. "What if I could have done something before they grafted that chassis to her body. Maybe she wouldn't need a wheelchair, and she could have come with us."</p> <p>"What happened to Maya is unfortunate," Teicuih said. "But dwelling on the past is not going to help our situation."</p> <p>Etzli took a deep breath. "I know, I know. But she's one of us. I'm responsible for her. I hope she's-"</p> <p>"TARGET APPROACHING!" Techuih yelled out. That was enough to shake Etzli into action.</p> <p>"I have eyes on Dr. Curtis," Teichui said. "Looks like he has some backup."</p> <p>"How much?"</p> <p>"Looks like a small contingent of Jomsvikings accompanying him. Looks like he has more setting up around us. We'll be surrounded. We need to make this exchange quick."</p> <p>"Any Valkyries?" Etzli asked.</p> <p>"I don't think so," Tecuih replied.</p> <p>That much was comforting. For all the reasons they had to despise Valravn, Etzli was not so thrilled about the prospect of having to kill her former sisters.</p> <p>"Alright," Etzli said. She reached for her earpiece.</p> <p>"Operation Stormfall is Go. Everyone to their positions."</p> <p>A series of voices responded.</p> <p>"Chantico standing by,"</p> <p>"Eta standing by,"</p> <p>At that moment, a woman entered, dressed in armor resembling a cross between a Greek hoplite and something out of a cyberpunk adventure, spear in one hand and shield in the other. Etzli had gotten to know her well: Thalestris. She was a Valkyrie from the Greek division who had also turned on Valravn, though not by choice. Her story of being left for dead by her own unit only gave Etzli further reason to hate Valravn.</p> <p>They had their differences, but it was always good to know they weren't alone.</p> <p>"I heard we're ready to go,"</p> <p>"Almost," Etzli replied. Then it dawned on her that she only heard two voices in response. She reached for her earpiece again.</p> <p>"Eta, where's your sister?"</p> <p>"I'm not sure. You want me to-"</p> <p>"It's fine, I'll find her," Etzli quickly stood up. She had often wondered whose bright idea it was to put a cloaking device on an introvert.</p> <p>It did not take long to find the missing Valkyrie. First, Etzli stopped in the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.</p> <p>Then she saw a couch with a noticeable person-shaped imprint, and she could hear someone snoring.</p> <p>Etzli smiled as she approached.</p> <p>"Initiate override 247,"</p> <p>And just like that, the cloak fell. A raven-haired young woman was now visible on the couch, fast asleep and drooling everywhere.</p> <p>Etzli gave her a gentle nudge. "Xochi…"</p> <p>Xochi groaned as she woke and rolled over, looking visibly groggy.</p> <p>"Wake up, it's time to move."</p> <p>Xochi slowly sat up, still looking groggy and slightly confused.</p> <p>Etzli handed Xochi the coffee. She took it, and took a sip before wincing.</p> <p>"Ugh," Xochi muttered. "Why can't Ceballos have any good coffee?"</p> <p>"Dr. Curtis is going to be here in a few minutes. I need you ready. You know what to do."</p> <p>Xochi nodded. She didn't have to move before her body changed in front of Etzli's eyes, looking like Dr. Ceballos.</p> <p>"Good. Once you're ready, meet us at the door."</p> <p>Thalestris's voice came over the earpiece. "This it. Let's try to make this clean. I want you to make a good impression on the Foundation. Remember, we want Dr. Curtis alive if possible, but the prototype is our main priority."</p> <p>Xochi appeared at the door, placing her coffee on the table. Despite the bitter taste in her mouth, she was about as ready as she could be to do this.</p> <p>Thalestris was waiting for her, alongside Etzli.</p> <p>"How do I look?" Xochi asked.</p> <p>Etzli smiled. She tried to make herself look shocked. "Dr. Ceballos," she said, as if surprised. "What are you doing here?"</p> <p>Xochi could not help but smile.</p> <p>"Remember, keep him talking," Thalestris said. "As soon as you can, get him inside with the prototype."</p> <p>Xochi smiled nervously.</p> <p>"I'll be guiding you," Etzli said. "Just follow my lead and you should be fine."</p> <p>Xochi nodded as she took a deep breath. Slowly she opened the door and stepped out into the swampy shoreline. She approached the murky river, her eyes scanning for signs of any human presence.</p> <p>She knew Valravn wasn't stupid. They probably had people set up all over the swamp.</p> <p>Teicuih's voice came in over her earpiece. "Target approaching,"</p> <p>Xochi glanced down the river. She started to make out a group of hovercrafts approaching. Most of the occupants were soldiers dressed in heavy combat armor, many of them masked.</p> <p>They'd all seen them before, the Jomsvikings. That was Valravn's name for its rank-and-file troops. They were certainly capable in combat, many of them coming from military backgrounds, but they were more suited for conventional warfare than combat against Valkyries. Still, they did have a clear numerical advantage.</p> <p>Their nearly identical uniforms caused most of the Jomsvikings to blur together. For some of them it was impossible to even tell if they were male or female. Only one person stood out amongst them, a man in khaki. It was the man they were looking for: Dr. Arthur Curtis.</p> <p>The hovercrafts pulled up onto the shore. The kakhi-suited man quickly climbed out, while his troops moved into formation.</p> <p>"Here goes nothing," Xochi thought as she approached. She just hoped the disguise would hold up, and the memetic cloak would keep him in the dark.</p> <p>"You must be Dr. Curtis,"</p> <p>The khaki-suited man looked at "Dr. Ceballos." He smiled, and pulled out a black case from the hovercraft. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."</p> <p>"I've heard great things about your work," "Ceballos" replied. "Your father would be proud."</p> <p>"My father was weak," Curtis said. "He was smart, but he was too burdened by misplaced ethics to see the bigger picture. And because of that, he led GRU-P right to his doorstep."</p> <p>Internally, Xochi cringed. Hearing a man talk about his own father in such a way seemed… cold. She pulled up the files on Dr. Joseph Curtis, reminding herself of the abomination he created. It was hard to imagine someone thinking that he of all people was too bogged down by ethics.</p> <p>But as she recalled the data she'd been given on Dr. Arthur Curtis, it should hardly be surprising. Valravn got to him much younger than they did his father, and had a lot more time to indoctrinate him. It was hard not to shudder as she recalled the Foundation's case file for <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-191">SCP-191</a>, a product she now knew was his handiwork.</p> <p>As if somehow able to sense Xochi's growing anxiety, Etzli's voice came in over the earpiece.</p> <p>"Let him talk. I know it hurts but we need you to keep it together, okay?"</p> <p>Xochi struggled to hold herself together. Taking on the appearance of Ceballos was one thing, but acting like she could accept half the things he said was another. It was mentally draining. Fortunately the cloak seemed to be hiding her sweat.</p> <p>She froze, unsure of what to say next.</p> <p>"Ask him about the prototype," Etzli said through the earpiece.</p> <p>Xochi almost stammered the next line. "You have the prototype."</p> <p>"Yes," Curtis replied. He held up the case.</p> <p>"Ask him if you can see it." Etzli whispered.</p> <p>"Uh… may I take a look?"</p> <p>"Of course," Curtis replied. He placed the black case on the edge of the hovercraft and opened it to reveal a small drone inside. "</p> <p>"This baby's going to change drone warfare forever," Curtis said. "No longer do we need a subject to enter a state of REM sleep. Instead, we can move their consciousness fully into the drone. I am about to make your dream technology obsol-"</p> <p>He was cut off by the sound of someone clapping. Xochi turned to see a blonde-haired woman with a malicious grin. But what really stood out were her glowing blue eyes, a detail that only seemed to emphasize her contempt for everyone around her.</p> <p>She slowly clapped her gloved hands as she approached, each finger tipped with a sharp point that gave the appearance of claws.</p> <p>"Bravo," she said in a sarcastic tone. "Very good performance."</p> <p>Etzli cursed as she saw the new arrival.</p> <p>"Teichui, are you seeing this?"</p> <p>"Yes, what's she doing here?"</p> <p>They all recognized her, a face from the past they had not expected to find out here.</p> <p>Her name was Yaretzi. Xochi remembered her well. The commanding officer of the Jaguar Warriors, known for her borderline psychotic personality. How many times had the Eagle and Jaguar warriors been forced to compete?</p> <p>Xochi began to tense up as she remembered all the things this woman had done to them. She recalled the insults, the vindictiveness, the way she relentlessly bullied Necca. The memory of seeing a trained combat specialist from <em>Fuerzas Especiales</em> reduced to tears at her hands filled Xochi with rage.</p> <p>Etzli had, on multiple occasions, pleaded to Olga for some sort of action against Yaretzi, pleas that fell on deaf ears. Valravn loved making its personell compete with each other, but this was another level. Sure, there was always some competition between Eagle and Jaguar warriors, but this went beyond merely challenging each other in contests. Yaretzi seemed to have it out for the Eagle Warriors, and jumped on any opportunity to make their lives miserable as long as Etzli wasn't present, but would quickly turn and run if she was.</p> <p>So much unneccessary pain had come at Yaretzi's hands. And yet, Valravn only stood by and watched. They watched as Yaretzi learned to hurt every member of the team. They watched as she bullied her squadmates into helping her, and found ways to punish the few that refused. They watched as she refused to accept defeat and would find ways to get payback for being defeated fair and square in any contest. They watched while she cornered and mocked Zyanya about Necca's planned termination. But they did nothing, because to them it was all just "competition."</p> <p>Curtis was confused. "What?"</p> <p>The woman smiled. "You don't think that's the real Dr. Ceballos, do you?"</p> <p>"Stay calm," Etzli whispered into Xochi's ear. "Don't give her the satisfaction."</p> <p>"What do you mean?"</p> <p>"I know a memetic cloak when I see one," Yaretzi said.</p> <p>"I have line of sight," Eta said.</p> <p>"Hold until my command," Etzli replied.</p> <p>"I thought they had a failsafe," Curtis said. "They can't be used to impersonate our personel."</p> <p>"Well, I guess someone found a workaround."</p> <p>"They're on to us," Thalestris said.</p> <p>Xochi already had an idea of what was coming, before she heard Etzli say those two words:</p> <p>"Open fire,"</p> <p>Suddenly a shot came out of the house, slamming into Yaretzi and knocking over a piece of her armor. She stumbled. The glow in her eyes faded. She grunted and cried out.</p> <p>"Initiate plan B" Etzli said.</p> <p>Xochi quickly switched disguises, changing herself to appear as Olga Brandt.</p> <p>"You!" Curtis yelled. "I should have known you'd be this petty,"</p> <p>He quickly began to run towards his hovercraft.</p> <p>"Chantico," Etzli said, "You're up!"</p> <p>Suddenly one of the hovercrafts exploded. Xóchitl stumbled to the ground, with several soldiers being thrown around. Shots were being fired.</p> <p>Curtis hastily closed the case and ran back toward his hovercraft, climbing in and starting the engine.</p> <p>Back in the house, the sounds of bullets from the nearby trees seemed almost deafening. Eta switched her eye to thermal vision. At first the enemy seemed invisible, but once she saw their body heat, it wasn't so hard.</p> <p>"We're surrounded on all sides," Thalestris said.</p> <p>"Don't worry," Etzli replied. "We've still got a few tricks."</p> <p>"Like what?"</p> <p>"Air support, for one thing."</p> <p>She made her way to the room where Teichui was still operating the drone.</p> <p>"You see anything?"</p> <p>Techui pushed a button on her interface, quickly switching the screen to infrared. "I can see them."</p> <p>"Good. I'll need you to cover us."</p> <p>Etzli reached for her earpiece. "Okay, listen up. Chantico and Thalestris, you're with me. Eta and Techui, I need you to carve us a path to the river. We're going after Curtis."</p> <p>"What happened to Xochi?" Eta said. "I can't see her."</p> <p>Etzli sighed. She was worried, but knew she had to prioritize.</p> <p>"She can handle herself. Let's move!"</p> <p>Etzli made her way to the door, Thalestris and Chantico by her side.</p> <p>"We're going to push for the river," Etzli explained. "Take cover behind anything you can!"</p> <p>"Drone is ready," Techui reported.</p> <p>"Good," Etzli replied. "Engage."</p> <p>The defeaning sounds of a machine gun were heard.</p> <p>Etzli opened the door and ran for the first point of cover, her two squadmates close behind her. Above them they could see Techui's drone, firing from above. That combined with Eta's shots seemed to be enough to reduce the bullet flow.</p> <p>"We made it," Etzli remarked. "Thalestris, move up and take point."</p> <p>Thalestris did as instructed. She ran to the next point of cover, ducking behind a large boulder. Above them, the drone continued to fire on the treeline, seemingly taking out a lot of the opposing force.</p> <p>As Thalestris approached the river, she made her way to one of the boats, only to suddenly her a female growl. Before she knew it, a hulking body had toppled her, and she was held down by a pair of very strong arms. As she looked up, she saw the blonde-haired menace Etzli identified as Yaretzi. Her glowing blue eyes were back in working order.</p> <p>"Hey," Yaretzi said eagerly. "I remember you. You're that crybaby from the Greek unit, I thought you were dead."</p> <p>"Is that what they told you?" Thalestris replied.</p> <p>"You were weak, you didn't have what it took. Well, now I'm going to enjoy killing you."</p> <p>Suddenly, Thalestris sprung into action. She pulled Yaretzi to the ground, and tried to climb on top of her.</p> <p>"Let her go," Etzli called out. Yaretzi turned to see the two eagle warriors standing over her.</p> <p>"Etzli… we meet again. You must be getting desperate if you're taking all our washouts."</p> <p>"Your quarrel is with me," Etzli replied.</p> <p>Yaretzi stared for a moment.</p> <p>"Come on," Etzli said. "Show me what you've got. All those upgrades must have made you stronger, right?"</p> <p>Yaretzi stood and looked Etzli in the eye. All the rage seemed to fade in a second. Her voice went from a roar to a whimper.</p> <p>"This isn't over," Yaretzi said, before she ran.</p> <p>"How'd you manage that," Thalestris asked, as she stood up, visibly bruised but otherwise okay.</p> <p>"She's a bully," Etzli replied. "She picks on people she thinks can't fight back, and panics when faced with someone who can."</p> <p>"You mean-"</p> <p>"It's a long story," Etzli said. "But yes, she will never admit it but she is <em>terrified</em> of me. Let's get moving. We still need to catch up with Dr. Curtis."</p> <hr/> <p>Dr. Arthur Curtis breathed a sigh of relief as he looked back. From his position on the hovercraft, it looked like he'd successfully escaped. The loss of his escorts were unfortunate, but they knew the risks. He still had the prototype. The real question was how he managed to get discovered so easily. As far as he could tell, Olga Brandt had set him up.</p> <p>The answer to why seemed obvious. It was no secret that she hated Dr. Ceballos and was ready to do anything to shut him down. She probably wanted to intercept his prototype before it could be properly developed.</p> <p>Still, the important thing was he had gotten away in one piece and his work was safe. His best bet was to get out of the swamp and call for an extraction. Simple enough… until it wasn't.</p> <p>Suddenly he felt himself thrown out of his seat and onto the deck. He looked up to see… absolutely nothing. The black case seemed to levitate, until he suddenly saw a figure appear. The raven-haired valkyrie Xochi stood above him, with a smile.</p> <p>"You really thought it would be that easy?" Xochi said.</p> <p>"You think you can just take that?" Curtis asked. "You know what he will do?"</p> <p>Xochi laughed. "Oh you mean Ceballos. Yeah, we're ready for him."</p> <p>She reached for the tiller and turned the boat around.</p> <p>Curtis reached for the gun at his side. He lifted it up, his trembling hand trying to aim it at Xochi. The bullet missed, just grazing the side of her face.</p> <p>"Seriously?"</p> <p>Curtis squeezed off two more shots as Xochi approached. She grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up. Curtis tried to fight back, but the Valkyrie was too strong for him. Next thing he knew, he was plunging off the hovercraft into the swampy river.</p> <p>Xochi took the tiller and immediately turned around. She sped back along the river. She reached for her earpiece.</p> <p>"Package is secure."</p> <p>"What?" Etzli asked, somewhat confused. "Xochi where have you been? Your sister was worried."</p> <p>"I snuck onto Curtis's hovercraft," Xochi said. "Waited for him to get some distance, then acted."</p> <p>"Nice job, sis," she heard Eta saying.</p> <p>"We're on our way to you now," Etzli said. "Hold tight,"</p> <p>"Understood,"</p> <p>Xochi shut off the hovercraft's motor. She looked back to see if there was any sign of Curtis. She didn't see him.</p> <p>Xochi carefully opened the case, looking at the drone inside when she heard a twig snapping.</p> <p>Immediately her attention was drawn toward the shoreline. Slowly she got up, carefully stepping off the hovercraft and onto the wet marshland.</p> <p>She cloaked herself, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention, but it seemed that wasn't enough.</p> <p>Suddenly she felt like she'd been struck by a freight train, and fell to the ground. The cloak came off immediately. She could feel two very strong hands pushing her down, feeling like claws. As she looked up, she saw a familiar face. In the shade provided by the trees, she could make out a pair of glowing eyes.</p> <p>"Yaretzi,"</p> <p>"Well well, if it isn't the little raven. I guess your sister was too much of a coward to join you? She didn't even have the nerve to show herself."</p> <p>At the mention of Eta, Xochi slammed her fist into Yaretzi's face. She reached for her knife with her other hand, slowly drawing it. With one swift motion, she ran it into Yaretzi's shoulder.</p> <p>Yaretzi cried out. Xochi knew it wouldn't stop her for long, but it was long eough for her to break Yaretzi's grip.</p> <p>Thinking quickly, Xochi recloaked. She knew she had a disadvantage here. There were two clear options, escape, or find a way to turn the environment on Yaretszi.</p> <p>Clouds were starting to roll over. The faint sound of thunder could be heard in the distance. Xochi couldn't help thinking about how she'd much rather be back in the safehouse, curled up on the couch again. But war never waits for the best conditions. She knew that sometimes she had to fight in less-than-ideal circumstances.</p> <p>She made her way back to the river, looking for the prototype. There it was, on the ground. She paused and looked at it, then glanced down the river hoping to see signs of Etzli.</p> <p>That was when she heard an ominous chuckle.</p> <p>"You think that pathetic cloak will save you."</p> <p>Yaretzi emerged from the increasingly shadowed forest, her eyes glowing like a cat… like a jaguar.</p> <p>"Oh you're so naive. My occular implants were specially calibrated for spotting people when they're cloaked. I can see you clearly."</p> <p>Yaretzi wrapped her hands around Xochi's throat and shoved her backward, crashing into the water. She then began to push her head under.</p> <p>Every feral instinct in Xochi kicked in. Her arms flailed as she tried to break Yaretzi's hold, but it was too strong.</p> <p>It all seemed so hopeless, until she managed to see one small detail through the rippling waves. Xochi's knife was still embedded in Yaretzi's shoulder, but a more tactical strike was neccessary. It wouldn't be enough to kill her, but Xochi could see just how to turn the situation around.</p> <p>With one hand, Xochi grabbed the knife and yanked it out. That seemed to be enough to loosen Yaretzi's grip as she cried out.</p> <p>Now was her one chance.</p> <p>Xochi shoved the knife into Yaretzi's eye. Suddenly the glow stopped. Her eye seemed to shatter like glass, and sparks appeared around the knife's hilt</p> <p>That did it. The shock of being partially blinded was enough to knock Yaretzi over. giving Xochi the opportunity to get back on her feet. She reached for the knife in what remained of Yaretzi's eye, and yanked it out.</p> <p>Slowly Xochi picked up the case, just in time to see Yaretzi stumble to her feet. She charged toward Xochi, but this time it was different. Her attacks seemed random, confused. Like Yaretzi had forgotten how to fight and was reduced to pure feral rage.</p> <p>Before she could do much else, there was a sudden explosion from under her. Yaretzi was flung into the treeline, crashing into a heap on the ground.</p> <p>Xochi paused, slightly disoriented, before she saw the approaching hovercraft. Chantico was enthusiastically posed on the front, with a large grenade launcher in hand.</p> <p>The hovercraft pulled up next to Xochi, and she quickly climbed in with the case.</p> <p>"Are you okay?" Etzli said.</p> <p>"Just ran into some trouble," Xochi replied. "Let's get out of here before Yaretzi wakes up."</p> <p>Etzli quickly started up the engine and began driving the hovercraft back toward the safehouse.</p> <p>"Now that they know we're here we probably shouldn't stick around much longer," Etzli said.</p> <p>"Already on it," Thalestris replied, as she reached for her own earpiece.</p> <p>"This is A-04. Package secured, requesting extraction."</p> <p>The Swamp seemed much calmer now, but they knew it wouldn't last long. Getting out of there was top priority.</p> <p>As the Safehouse came into view, Xochi took a deep breath. Everything was looking good so far. They pulled up on the shore. So far it seemed if any Valravn personel were left, they were too scattered to put up much of a fight.</p> <p>"Chopper's on its way," Thalestris said as she climbed off the hovercraft. "We just need to wait a few minutes.</p> <p>Etzli reached for her earpiece. "Techui, any sign of hostiles."</p> <p>"I got some movement," Techui replied. "They look pretty scattered, but I'd still recommend caution."</p> <p>"Alright," Etzli replied. "Thalestris, keep us updated on the chopper. We'll fall back to the house until it arrives.</p> <p>"I can set up some explosives," Chantico said.</p> <p>"Okay, just use a manual detonator. I don't want any civillians getting caught in the blast if we don't use them."</p> <p>Chantico nodded as she ran back toward the house. The others quickly followed.</p> <p>No sooner had Xochi entered than she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her. She shouldn't have been too surprised to see her sister, but in that moment it felt strange.</p> <p>"I was worried about you," Eta said.</p> <p>Xochi paused before slowly returning the gesture. In that moment of affection, it was easy to see the physical resemblance between the twins, even if they seemed so different from each other.</p> <p>After letting go, Xochi made her way to a nearby couch and quickly planted herself in it. She was sweating, and visibly exhausted. That much was hardly surprising. Everyone knew it took a lot of energy to keep up both a disguise and a memetic cloak. Almost immediately, Eta handed her a bottle of water, which Xochi began guzzling.</p> <p>"Is she okay?" Thalestris asked.</p> <p>"Just a bit tired," Etzli replied. "Keeping up a disguise with a memetic cloak takes a lot of energy. Plus she could probably use the rest after that beating."</p> <p>Suddenly she was approached by Techui.</p> <p>"Any word on our extraction?"</p> <p>"They should be here in about 10 minutes."</p> <p>"Good," Tecuih replied. "But we have a problem. More hostiles incoming. I guess someone called for backup."</p> <p>"Alright, Tecuih, give us some air support. "</p> <p>"Got it, but it looks like it's going to be hot."</p> <p>"We're going to have to take cover in here," Etzli said. "Chantico, see if you can get a few charges set before they arrive. Eta, I need you on overwatch again. Thalestris, you're with me. on the front."</p> <p>"What about me," Xochi asked.</p> <p>"You've already done enough," Etzli said. "Try to relax, but be ready in case they breach."</p> <p>Eta quickly made her way back to the upper window. Her rifle was already prepared. She just had to start aiming.</p> <p>Etzli took position at the front, with Thalestris next to her.</p> <p>They waited. The minutes ticked by.</p> <p>"You see anything yet?"</p> <p>"I have eyes on something," Teicuih reported. "Something big. It looks like- oh shi-"</p> <p>Before she could say anything more a large hulking machine tore through the wall, latching itself onto Etzli and pulling her down. It looked almost like a robotic bear, except somehow with much sharper fangs and claws.</p> <p>Of course they had a Berserk.</p> <p>Etzli was quickly held down by the abomination, struggling to break free of its grip. She cried out as one of its sharp claws ran into her shoulder.</p> <p>Thalestris charged toward the machine, spear in hand. Impressively, she managed to score a hit that sent sparks flying and knocked some of the metal loose, exposing a piece of the hidden flesh underneath.</p> <p>That was the unsettling part. It was easy to forget these mechanical abominations were in fact cyborgs. Even more bizarre, nobody seemed to know where these biological components came from. Theories among Valravn staff ranged from mutating captured enemies to elaborate synthetic engineering. The source of the berserks was one of many Valravn mysteries known only to a select few at the very top.</p> <p>The exposed skin seemed to enrage the berserk, as if it was not already enraged enough, and it quickly turned its attention towards Thalestris. Etzli screamed as she felt its claw yanked out of her shoulder.</p> <p>Next thing they knew, the mechanical bear was on top of Thalestris. She collapsed to the ground, but not completely unprepared. She still had a shield.</p> <p>As the Berserk stood on its hind legs, looking like it was going to provide a massive ground slam, Thalestris readied her shield. Its claws slammed into it with a metal clank. As the Berserk tried a second pounding, Thalestris rolled out of the way.</p> <p>Suddenly, a bullet struck the creature. It was not enough to do any serious damage, but it seemed to hit just the right spot to dislodge a piece of armor, exposing its neck area. Only one person could make a shot <em>that</em> precise.</p> <p>Eta stood in the doorframe, rifle in hand, readying herself to take the next shot. But even her reaction times were had to match with the bear's speed. It was running towards her when suddenly someone jumped in front.</p> <p>It was Chantico, with a small block of C4 in hand.</p> <p>"I got this,"</p> <p>As the berserk got close, Chantico shoved the explosive into its mouth with all the strength she could muster, impaling it on the spears inside.</p> <p>She pushed Eta aside and hit her detonator. A small explosion came out of the creature's mouth. Suddenly there was smoke bellowing from its now-slightly dislodged jaws, and broken speartips literring the floor.</p> <p>Tecuih needed a few minutes to get the drone insight, but she could hear the commotion in the lower floor. She knew she needed to help them. She quickly flew it back into what remained of the house, and fired on the berserk.</p> <p>The berserk turned its attention toward the drone, swinging its claws at it, but the damage it had already faced seemed to reduce its speed. Tecuih was keeping it just out of reach.</p> <p>Eta reached for her sidearm and approached, seeing the distraction as an opportunity to hit the bear in its weak points. She squeezed off two shots before it turned toward her, and pounced, quickly pulling her down.</p> <p>But Eta saw an even greater opportunity. She slowly lifted her gun, aiming it straight into the bear's mouth, and fired.</p> <p>The Berserk roared as it stepped backward, clearly injured but unwilling to go down without a fight.</p> <p>And then it happened.</p> <p>Seemingly out of nowhere, a large gash appeared in the Berserk's neck. It turned and started trying to strike at its target. Only it couldn't seem to find her. It seemed to be swatting repeatedly at nothing before another precise strike hit it in the side. Then another in the neck, which produced a gash that seemed to just keep expanding. Something was dripping out of the berserk, possibly blood.</p> <p>Finally, the monster began to stumble, roaring as it tried to find the unseen attacker, before being hit one more time, and collapsing.</p> <p>As the berserk hit the ground, Xochi uncloaked herself. She looked tired and bruised but in far better condition than her opponent, and she had a knife soaked in the luiquid that had been dripping from the bear.</p> <p>Teicuih ran into the room, her drone automatically flying towards her, and carefully folding itself into the back of her armor.</p> <p>Upon seeing Etzli, Teicuih was shocked and ran toward her, quickly pulling her into her arms.</p> <p>"Chopper's here," Thalestris said, obviously a little out of breath. "We need to get moving."</p> <p>"Leaving already?" A familiar voice said, with a faint but malicious chuckle. They looked toward the opening to see none other than Yaretzi stepping through. She looked bruised, and her armor looked like it had seen better days, Only one eye was still working, the other an empty hole. All that seemed to just make her more intimidating.</p> <p>"You still have a debt. What was it they say? Oh yeah, an eye for an eye." She pointed to her empty socket.</p> <p>"Your quarrel is with me," Etzli said, between breaths. She grunted from the pain as she hung from Teicuih’s shoulder. "Let the others go."</p> <p>"You see," Yaretzi said as she stepped in. "That's the problem with you. You're too caught up in this absurd fantasy that you can have a family. Your loyalty is to Valravn. You remember your contract? You signed it. But this notion of sisterhood is a weakness. You coddle your squad, when they should know to fear you."</p> <p>"You see that's where we differ," Etzli said. "You use fear and intimidation to force your squad to follow you. You make them afraid of what you will do if they do not. I don't have to."</p> <p>"You keep telling yourself that." Yaretzi said. "But you're not the one who pulled my eye out. Or the one who shot me. Or the one who fired a grenade at me."</p> <p>"You should have thought of that before attacking us,"</p> <p>Yaretzi chuckled in that ominous tone that implied she was up to something. "I did,"</p> <p>As if on cue, a pair of centaur-like figures appeared at the opening. Chirons, they called them.</p> <p>"More minions to do your dirty work?" Etzli asked. "Just like you to be too cowardly to do it yourself."</p> <p>"On the contrary," Yaretzi said, her voice sounding especially smug. "I'm just smart enough to make sure I have an advantage."</p> <p>Before anything could happen, a bullet struck one of the Chirons in the head, and it toppled to the ground. The noise of a helicopter came from overhead. Another shot hit Yaretzi, whose one eye stopped glowing.</p> <p>Eta lowered her smoking rifle. For anyone else, the shots might have been impossible but Eta… she knew just how to hit them where it hurt.</p> <p>For most people, a knife and a bullet to both eyes would be fatal. But Yaretzi was a Valkyrie. They were designed to have a high tolerance for pain, and they could take a lot more than most. Yaretzi staggered, but she kept her footing. Losing her sight only seemed to enrage her more, but at least it made it harder for her to attack.</p> <p>The remaining Chiron was suddenly tackled to the ground by an invisible force. As he struggled, he found himself at a disadvantage once prone, and was quickly dealt with. Xochi reappeared, yanking her knife out of its neck.</p> <p>Teicuih quickly began carrying Etzli out through the opening, past the presently-incapacitated Yaretzi. The others followed, each one with their weapons trained on the surrounding area. Thalestris grabbed the prototype as they ran.</p> <p>As the helicopter came in for a landing, two women stepped off, both in the distinct uniforms of the Task Force known as "Street Samurai."</p> <p>"Did you get it?" One of them asked as she approached.</p> <p>"We got it, Johnston," Thalestris yelled over the helicopter's rotors. She handed her the prototype. "LET'S GO!"</p> <p>Johnston quickly led the squad back to the helicopter. One by one they climbed inside. Teicuih quickly brought Etzli in, and gently placed her on one of the seats.</p> <p>"She needs help," Teicuih yelled.</p> <p>"I'll see what I can do," Johnston replied.</p> <p>Next was Chantico, followed by Eta, Xochi, and Thalestris.</p> <p>The helicopter began to take off. Johnston closed the door. They were a few feet off the ground when they suddenly felt turbulence.</p> <p>"What's going on?" Thalestris asked.</p> <p>"I'm not sure," the pilot yelled back. "It's like we've got extra weig-"</p> <p>And then they saw what happened. The door swung open, and who should be waiting but Yaretzi.</p> <p>"We're not done yet,"</p> <p>Yaretzi jumped in, lunging at Xochi.</p> <p>In the tight quarters of the helicopter, it was hard to do much, but Yaretzi quickly felt her claws smash into Thalestris's shield.</p> <p>"Hey," she heard a voice call out. Eta stood, pistol in hand. Yaretzi turned toward her.</p> <p>"Stay away from my sister."</p> <p>Eta fired, the bullet flying straight into Yaretzi's hand. She roared as she swung her arms around wildly, blindly trying to strike at anything.</p> <p>Etzli stood, mustering all the strength she could to shove Yaretzi out of the helicopter. She fell through the open door.</p> <p>It seemed to work, for a moment, until she felt the chopper wobble. Etzli stumbled toward the door, looking down to see Yaretzi hanging from the chopper's skids, by one hand.</p> <p>"Pull me up," Yaretzi called, trying to reach up with her free hand, but in her blinded state, it was no use.</p> <p>"HELP ME! We're Valkyries, right? We're sisters!"</p> <p>Etzli reached one arm out towards Eta, who immediately handed her the pistol.</p> <p>She stared down into Yaretzi's eyes. If only she could see how cold her face was in that moment.</p> <p>"You are not my sister,"</p> <p>Etzli squeezed off one shot, striking Yaretzi's hand. Her grip suddenly loosened. The Jaguar Warrior fell into the swamp below, out of sight.</p> <p>At that moment, the pain of her injury began to catch up with her. Etzli felt herself stumbling before being grabbed. Teicuih held her by the arm, and led her back to her seat.</p> <p>"Is she…" Johnston asked.</p> <p>"Probably not." Chantico replied.</p> <p>Etzli took a seat as Teicuih began looking at her injury.</p> <p>"It's okay," Teicuih muttered. "We'll get you patched up when we get back. Right now, you just need to rest."</p> <p>Etzli nodded, she let her head fall against the wall and closed her eyes.</p> <p>"What do you think?" Thalestris asked.</p> <p>Johnston smiled. "Well, it's Richter's decision, but it seems like your Eagle warriors are a valuable asset."</p> <p>She looked to the door. "Who was that?"</p> <p>"An old enemy," Teicuih replied. "I'll tell you all about it when we're out of here."</p> <hr/> <p>Dr. Curtis paced anxiously as he stood outside the office, trying to brace himself for the inevitable chewing out he was about to receive. This was not a good way to make a decent first impression on Ceballos. He'd already gotten a ton of Valravn personel killed and lost the important prototype. There weren't very many excuses that could justify that. Having to walk out of a swamp didn't do much to help his mood, either.</p> <p>And listening to Yaretzi's snoring didn't help. The Jaguar Warrior commander was seated on the bench with her head leaning against the wall, fast asleep, while a Valravn tech sat next to her, carefully performing maintenance on her body. Not like she couldn't use the rest after what they had been through, but listening to her snore for what felt like hours was not doing much good for his mind. He could barely focus. Trying to formulate an explanation for his actions seemed an increasingly futile exercise.</p> <p>Finally, the door opened, and Dr. Ceballos stepped out, clipboard in hand.</p> <p>"You're Dr. Arthur Curtis?"</p> <p>"Yes, sir?"</p> <p>"I've read your file. Your father was an interesting man."</p> <p>"I'm better than he ever was."</p> <p>"Oh, I don't doubt that. But this prototype of yours sounds like it could have been something special. What happened?"</p> <p>"You saw the report."</p> <p>"I want to hear it from you,"</p> <p>Dr. Curtis took a deep breath. "We were diverted to a safehouse in the middle of a swamp. And, I thought you were there? But you weren't? Someone was impersonating you…"</p> <p>"Who?"</p> <p>"Olga Brandt. She had an army of Valkyries waiting for us."</p> <p>"The report mentions you had one of your own."</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"A valkyrie. Why'd you bring her along?"</p> <p>"She insisted on coming," Dr. Curtis replied. "I figured we needed anyone we could get."</p> <p>"I see. It seems Olga's' up to something. You saw her, didn't you?"</p> <p>"Briefly,"</p> <p>"That bastard's been trying to shut down my robots. She's scared that drones are going to put her out of business. And now she's using her pathetic Valkyries to do her dirty work? Figures. How would you like to get back at her."</p> <p>Curtis smiled. "I would like that very much."</p> <p>"I can help," said a voice from nearby.</p> <p>Yaretzi slowly lifted her head. As she opened her eyes, the scientists could see they were glowing once again. She stretched as she sat up. "You want to take down Olga Brandt? I have some information that might be of interest to you."</p> <p>Ceballos and Curtis paused, both surprised by the offer.</p> <p>"Why would you help us?" Ceballos asked.</p> <p>Yaretzi smiled. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."</p> <p>"Do you think we can trust her?" Ceballos whispered.</p> <p>"Probably not, but she's been useful so far."</p> <p>Yaretzi chuckled. "Those Valkyries you found, they weren't just any unit."</p> <p>"You know them?" Ceballos asked.</p> <p>"The Eagle Warriors. They're traitors."</p> <p>"I think I heard about that," Ceballos said. "They just abandoned their post one day and went off the grid."</p> <p>"And now they're working personally for Olga Brandt. Strange, isn't it?"</p> <p>"It is," Curtis replied.</p> <p>"Why would Olga be working with deserters?" Ceballos asked.</p> <p>Yaretzi shrugged. "No idea," though of course that was a lie. She already knew they weren't working for Olga, but for now, she decided it was better to keep them in the dark, let them follow their misguided assumptions.</p> <p>"I guess we need a way to beat Olga at her own game. What coul-"</p> <p>"I might have an idea." Curtis interjected.</p> <p>"Really?" Ceballos replied.</p> <p>"Remember Project Jotunn?"</p> <p>"Of course. It was a disaster."</p> <p>"Yes, but I think I have an idea for how we can make it work this time. And if I'm right, we can take your drone technology to a whole new level."</p> <p>Ceballos paused, eyeing Curtis with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.</p> <p>"I'm Listening."</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="/where-eagles-stand-and-jaguars-hunt">Where Eagles Stand, and Jaguars Hunt</a>" by Chickadee42, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/where-eagles-stand-and-jaguars-hunt">https://scpwiki.com/where-eagles-stand-and-jaguars-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> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] There were times when Etzli wondered if turning her back on one of the most powerful military corporations in the world was the best idea, but deep down she knew she had done the right thing. Even so, she knew Valravn was not something to be trifled with. Their reputation preceded them. The corporation was infamous for its borderline cultish ideals that mixed hypercapitalism with a warped interpretation of Norse Mythology. They took soldiers and armed them with anomalous weapons, fed them propaganda and sent them to fight for the highest bidder. Among Valravn's infamous ranks were the Valkyries, a regiment of women whose bodies were modified through strange rituals and cybernetic enhancements, courtesy of Dr. Olga Brandt. They called her the "Mother of Valkyries." Brandt always liked to spin it as a form of empowerment, but by now Etzli saw what she was really doing. She was exploiting vulnerable women with no hope, women whose bodies could never function again. And she offered to "fix" them, with the caveat of lifetime service to Valravn. There was no retirement plan for Valkyries except empty promises of "Valhalla." It was just continued service until they died, one way or another. And sometimes even death couldn't free them. Etzli had never asked for the augmentations she had received. The earliest she could remember was waking up in a "hospital" that looked more like a butcher shop, and no memory of her past life. They had the nerve to say she consented to the operation, but she always had her doubts. Those doubts were confirmed when she found the medical report proving she had been clinically braindead before the transformation. But where Valravn saw their Valkyries as property, Etzli had come to view them as family. They were her sisters, and she had been a far better maternal figure to her Eagle Warriors than their so-called "mother" ever could have been. That much had been to her advantage, seeing as the four others who made up the Eagle Warriors were loyal enough to follow her. "Tracking Target," Etzli perked up as she heard the voice of her lieutenant, Teichuih. They sat across a table from each other. Teicuih's arm was held up in front of her, a screen displayed on it. "Are you okay, Etzli?" Tecuih asked, trying not to take her eyes off the screen. Of course, she'd notice something was bothering Etzli. Teicuih knew her well. Etzli's dedicated lieutenant had been with her as long as she could remember, which in her case was when she joined Valravn. Etzli knew Teicuih’s loyalty knew no bounds. She was ready to catch a bullet for her. She agreed to turn her back on one of the most dangerous military corporations in the world for Etzli. And she would do it all over again if she had to. So it was hardly surprising that she was quick to spot when something was wrong. "Yeah," Etzli muttered. "I'm fine." "It's just you've been very quiet the last few days." "Sorry, it's just... I can't stop thinking about Necca- sorry, Maya." She still needed to get used to Necca switching back to her birth name, but that made her no less a sister. The poor girl was subjected to one of Valravn's "experiments" that were never completed. Now she required assisted living at Site-42, and would probably never walk normally again. But at least she was safe, and well-cared for. "We made sure she's in good hands," Teicuih replied. "I know," Etzli muttered. "But after everything she's gone through... I can't help looking back on it. I wonder if there's something we could have done differently. Maybe... I could have talked her out of it." "There was nothing you could have done," Teichui said. "It's not like you could have known they would shut down the program. It was her choice to participate. You saw how keen she was to prove herself." "Was it her choice, though?" Etzli asked. "You saw how they spoke to her. All that talk about glory and honor, and those promises to finally have what she needed to get back at Sin Nombre. It feels more like they wanted her to think she was volunteering." "Even so," Teicuih replied. "You did your best." "And what if my best wasn't good enough," Etzli replied. "What if I could have done something before they grafted that chassis to her body. Maybe she wouldn't need a wheelchair, and she could have come with us." "What happened to Maya is unfortunate," Teicuih said. "But dwelling on the past is not going to help our situation." Etzli took a deep breath. "I know, I know. But she's one of us. I'm responsible for her. I hope she's-" "TARGET APPROACHING!" Techuih yelled out. That was enough to shake Etzli into action. "I have eyes on Dr. Curtis," Teichui said. "Looks like he has some backup." "How much?" "Looks like a small contingent of Jomsvikings accompanying him. Looks like he has more setting up around us. We'll be surrounded. We need to make this exchange quick." "Any Valkyries?" Etzli asked. "I don't think so," Tecuih replied. That much was comforting. For all the reasons they had to despise Valravn, Etzli was not so thrilled about the prospect of having to kill her former sisters. "Alright," Etzli said. She reached for her earpiece. "Operation Stormfall is Go. Everyone to their positions." A series of voices responded. "Chantico standing by," "Eta standing by," At that moment, a woman entered, dressed in armor resembling a cross between a Greek hoplite and something out of a cyberpunk adventure, spear in one hand and shield in the other. Etzli had gotten to know her well: Thalestris. She was a Valkyrie from the Greek division who had also turned on Valravn, though not by choice. Her story of being left for dead by her own unit only gave Etzli further reason to hate Valravn. They had their differences, but it was always good to know they weren't alone. "I heard we're ready to go," "Almost," Etzli replied. Then it dawned on her that she only heard two voices in response. She reached for her earpiece again. "Eta, where's your sister?" "I'm not sure. You want me to-" "It's fine, I'll find her," Etzli quickly stood up. She had often wondered whose bright idea it was to put a cloaking device on an introvert. It did not take long to find the missing Valkyrie. First, Etzli stopped in the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Then she saw a couch with a noticeable person-shaped imprint, and she could hear someone snoring. Etzli smiled as she approached. "Initiate override 247," And just like that, the cloak fell. A raven-haired young woman was now visible on the couch, fast asleep and drooling everywhere. Etzli gave her a gentle nudge. "Xochi..." Xochi groaned as she woke and rolled over, looking visibly groggy. "Wake up, it's time to move." Xochi slowly sat up, still looking groggy and slightly confused. Etzli handed Xochi the coffee. She took it, and took a sip before wincing. "Ugh," Xochi muttered. "Why can't Ceballos have any good coffee?" "Dr. Curtis is going to be here in a few minutes. I need you ready. You know what to do." Xochi nodded. She didn't have to move before her body changed in front of Etzli's eyes, looking like Dr. Ceballos. "Good. Once you're ready, meet us at the door." Thalestris's voice came over the earpiece. "This it. Let's try to make this clean. I want you to make a good impression on the Foundation. Remember, we want Dr. Curtis alive if possible, but the prototype is our main priority." Xochi appeared at the door, placing her coffee on the table. Despite the bitter taste in her mouth, she was about as ready as she could be to do this. Thalestris was waiting for her, alongside Etzli. "How do I look?" Xochi asked. Etzli smiled. She tried to make herself look shocked. "Dr. Ceballos," she said, as if surprised. "What are you doing here?" Xochi could not help but smile. "Remember, keep him talking," Thalestris said. "As soon as you can, get him inside with the prototype." Xochi smiled nervously. "I'll be guiding you," Etzli said. "Just follow my lead and you should be fine." Xochi nodded as she took a deep breath. Slowly she opened the door and stepped out into the swampy shoreline. She approached the murky river, her eyes scanning for signs of any human presence. She knew Valravn wasn't stupid. They probably had people set up all over the swamp. Teicuih's voice came in over her earpiece. "Target approaching," Xochi glanced down the river. She started to make out a group of hovercrafts approaching. Most of the occupants were soldiers dressed in heavy combat armor, many of them masked. They'd all seen them before, the Jomsvikings. That was Valravn's name for its rank-and-file troops. They were certainly capable in combat, many of them coming from military backgrounds, but they were more suited for conventional warfare than combat against Valkyries. Still, they did have a clear numerical advantage. Their nearly identical uniforms caused most of the Jomsvikings to blur together. For some of them it was impossible to even tell if they were male or female. Only one person stood out amongst them, a man in khaki. It was the man they were looking for: Dr. Arthur Curtis. The hovercrafts pulled up onto the shore. The kakhi-suited man quickly climbed out, while his troops moved into formation. "Here goes nothing," Xochi thought as she approached. She just hoped the disguise would hold up, and the memetic cloak would keep him in the dark. "You must be Dr. Curtis," The khaki-suited man looked at "Dr. Ceballos." He smiled, and pulled out a black case from the hovercraft. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person." "I've heard great things about your work," "Ceballos" replied. "Your father would be proud." "My father was weak," Curtis said. "He was smart, but he was too burdened by misplaced ethics to see the bigger picture. And because of that, he led GRU-P right to his doorstep." Internally, Xochi cringed. Hearing a man talk about his own father in such a way seemed... cold. She pulled up the files on Dr. Joseph Curtis, reminding herself of the abomination he created. It was hard to imagine someone thinking that he of all people was too bogged down by ethics. But as she recalled the data she'd been given on Dr. Arthur Curtis, it should hardly be surprising. Valravn got to him much younger than they did his father, and had a lot more time to indoctrinate him. It was hard not to shudder as she recalled the Foundation's case file for [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-191 SCP-191], a product she now knew was his handiwork. As if somehow able to sense Xochi's growing anxiety, Etzli's voice came in over the earpiece. "Let him talk. I know it hurts but we need you to keep it together, okay?" Xochi struggled to hold herself together. Taking on the appearance of Ceballos was one thing, but acting like she could accept half the things he said was another. It was mentally draining. Fortunately the cloak seemed to be hiding her sweat. She froze, unsure of what to say next. "Ask him about the prototype," Etzli said through the earpiece. Xochi almost stammered the next line. "You have the prototype." "Yes," Curtis replied. He held up the case. "Ask him if you can see it." Etzli whispered. "Uh... may I take a look?" "Of course," Curtis replied. He placed the black case on the edge of the hovercraft and opened it to reveal a small drone inside. " "This baby's going to change drone warfare forever," Curtis said. "No longer do we need a subject to enter a state of REM sleep. Instead, we can move their consciousness fully into the drone. I am about to make your dream technology obsol-" He was cut off by the sound of someone clapping. Xochi turned to see a blonde-haired woman with a malicious grin. But what really stood out were her glowing blue eyes, a detail that only seemed to emphasize her contempt for everyone around her. She slowly clapped her gloved hands as she approached, each finger tipped with a sharp point that gave the appearance of claws. "Bravo," she said in a sarcastic tone. "Very good performance." Etzli cursed as she saw the new arrival. "Teichui, are you seeing this?" "Yes, what's she doing here?" They all recognized her, a face from the past they had not expected to find out here. Her name was Yaretzi. Xochi remembered her well. The commanding officer of the Jaguar Warriors, known for her borderline psychotic personality. How many times had the Eagle and Jaguar warriors been forced to compete? Xochi began to tense up as she remembered all the things this woman had done to them. She recalled the insults, the vindictiveness, the way she relentlessly bullied Necca. The memory of seeing a trained combat specialist from //Fuerzas Especiales// reduced to tears at her hands filled Xochi with rage. Etzli had, on multiple occasions, pleaded to Olga for some sort of action against Yaretzi, pleas that fell on deaf ears. Valravn loved making its personell compete with each other, but this was another level. Sure, there was always some competition between Eagle and Jaguar warriors, but this went beyond merely challenging each other in contests. Yaretzi seemed to have it out for the Eagle Warriors, and jumped on any opportunity to make their lives miserable as long as Etzli wasn't present, but would quickly turn and run if she was. So much unneccessary pain had come at Yaretzi's hands. And yet, Valravn only stood by and watched. They watched as Yaretzi learned to hurt every member of the team. They watched as she bullied her squadmates into helping her, and found ways to punish the few that refused. They watched as she refused to accept defeat and would find ways to get payback for being defeated fair and square in any contest. They watched while she cornered and mocked Zyanya about Necca's planned termination. But they did nothing, because to them it was all just "competition." Curtis was confused. "What?" The woman smiled. "You don't think that's the real Dr. Ceballos, do you?" "Stay calm," Etzli whispered into Xochi's ear. "Don't give her the satisfaction." "What do you mean?" "I know a memetic cloak when I see one," Yaretzi said. "I have line of sight," Eta said. "Hold until my command," Etzli replied. "I thought they had a failsafe," Curtis said. "They can't be used to impersonate our personel." "Well, I guess someone found a workaround." "They're on to us," Thalestris said. Xochi already had an idea of what was coming, before she heard Etzli say those two words: "Open fire," Suddenly a shot came out of the house, slamming into Yaretzi and knocking over a piece of her armor. She stumbled. The glow in her eyes faded. She grunted and cried out. "Initiate plan B" Etzli said. Xochi quickly switched disguises, changing herself to appear as Olga Brandt. "You!" Curtis yelled. "I should have known you'd be this petty," He quickly began to run towards his hovercraft. "Chantico," Etzli said, "You're up!" Suddenly one of the hovercrafts exploded. Xóchitl stumbled to the ground, with several soldiers being thrown around. Shots were being fired. Curtis hastily closed the case and ran back toward his hovercraft, climbing in and starting the engine. Back in the house, the sounds of bullets from the nearby trees seemed almost deafening. Eta switched her eye to thermal vision. At first the enemy seemed invisible, but once she saw their body heat, it wasn't so hard. "We're surrounded on all sides," Thalestris said. "Don't worry," Etzli replied. "We've still got a few tricks." "Like what?" "Air support, for one thing." She made her way to the room where Teichui was still operating the drone. "You see anything?" Techui pushed a button on her interface, quickly switching the screen to infrared. "I can see them." "Good. I'll need you to cover us." Etzli reached for her earpiece. "Okay, listen up. Chantico and Thalestris, you're with me. Eta and Techui, I need you to carve us a path to the river. We're going after Curtis." "What happened to Xochi?" Eta said. "I can't see her." Etzli sighed. She was worried, but knew she had to prioritize. "She can handle herself. Let's move!" Etzli made her way to the door, Thalestris and Chantico by her side. "We're going to push for the river," Etzli explained. "Take cover behind anything you can!" "Drone is ready," Techui reported. "Good," Etzli replied. "Engage." The defeaning sounds of a machine gun were heard. Etzli opened the door and ran for the first point of cover, her two squadmates close behind her. Above them they could see Techui's drone, firing from above. That combined with Eta's shots seemed to be enough to reduce the bullet flow. "We made it," Etzli remarked. "Thalestris, move up and take point." Thalestris did as instructed. She ran to the next point of cover, ducking behind a large boulder. Above them, the drone continued to fire on the treeline, seemingly taking out a lot of the opposing force. As Thalestris approached the river, she made her way to one of the boats, only to suddenly her a female growl. Before she knew it, a hulking body had toppled her, and she was held down by a pair of very strong arms. As she looked up, she saw the blonde-haired menace Etzli identified as Yaretzi. Her glowing blue eyes were back in working order. "Hey," Yaretzi said eagerly. "I remember you. You're that crybaby from the Greek unit, I thought you were dead." "Is that what they told you?" Thalestris replied. "You were weak, you didn't have what it took. Well, now I'm going to enjoy killing you." Suddenly, Thalestris sprung into action. She pulled Yaretzi to the ground, and tried to climb on top of her. "Let her go," Etzli called out. Yaretzi turned to see the two eagle warriors standing over her. "Etzli... we meet again. You must be getting desperate if you're taking all our washouts." "Your quarrel is with me," Etzli replied. Yaretzi stared for a moment. "Come on," Etzli said. "Show me what you've got. All those upgrades must have made you stronger, right?" Yaretzi stood and looked Etzli in the eye. All the rage seemed to fade in a second. Her voice went from a roar to a whimper. "This isn't over," Yaretzi said, before she ran. "How'd you manage that," Thalestris asked, as she stood up, visibly bruised but otherwise okay. "She's a bully," Etzli replied. "She picks on people she thinks can't fight back, and panics when faced with someone who can." "You mean-" "It's a long story," Etzli said. "But yes, she will never admit it but she is //terrified// of me. Let's get moving. We still need to catch up with Dr. Curtis." ------ Dr. Arthur Curtis breathed a sigh of relief as he looked back. From his position on the hovercraft, it looked like he'd successfully escaped. The loss of his escorts were unfortunate, but they knew the risks. He still had the prototype. The real question was how he managed to get discovered so easily. As far as he could tell, Olga Brandt had set him up. The answer to why seemed obvious. It was no secret that she hated Dr. Ceballos and was ready to do anything to shut him down. She probably wanted to intercept his prototype before it could be properly developed. Still, the important thing was he had gotten away in one piece and his work was safe. His best bet was to get out of the swamp and call for an extraction. Simple enough... until it wasn't. Suddenly he felt himself thrown out of his seat and onto the deck. He looked up to see... absolutely nothing. The black case seemed to levitate, until he suddenly saw a figure appear. The raven-haired valkyrie Xochi stood above him, with a smile. "You really thought it would be that easy?" Xochi said. "You think you can just take that?" Curtis asked. "You know what he will do?" Xochi laughed. "Oh you mean Ceballos. Yeah, we're ready for him." She reached for the tiller and turned the boat around. Curtis reached for the gun at his side. He lifted it up, his trembling hand trying to aim it at Xochi. The bullet missed, just grazing the side of her face. "Seriously?" Curtis squeezed off two more shots as Xochi approached. She grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up. Curtis tried to fight back, but the Valkyrie was too strong for him. Next thing he knew, he was plunging off the hovercraft into the swampy river. Xochi took the tiller and immediately turned around. She sped back along the river. She reached for her earpiece. "Package is secure." "What?" Etzli asked, somewhat confused. "Xochi where have you been? Your sister was worried." "I snuck onto Curtis's hovercraft," Xochi said. "Waited for him to get some distance, then acted." "Nice job, sis," she heard Eta saying. "We're on our way to you now," Etzli said. "Hold tight," "Understood," Xochi shut off the hovercraft's motor. She looked back to see if there was any sign of Curtis. She didn't see him. Xochi carefully opened the case, looking at the drone inside when she heard a twig snapping. Immediately her attention was drawn toward the shoreline. Slowly she got up, carefully stepping off the hovercraft and onto the wet marshland. She cloaked herself, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention, but it seemed that wasn't enough. Suddenly she felt like she'd been struck by a freight train, and fell to the ground. The cloak came off immediately. She could feel two very strong hands pushing her down, feeling like claws. As she looked up, she saw a familiar face. In the shade provided by the trees, she could make out a pair of glowing eyes. "Yaretzi," "Well well, if it isn't the little raven. I guess your sister was too much of a coward to join you? She didn't even have the nerve to show herself." At the mention of Eta, Xochi slammed her fist into Yaretzi's face. She reached for her knife with her other hand, slowly drawing it. With one swift motion, she ran it into Yaretzi's shoulder. Yaretzi cried out. Xochi knew it wouldn't stop her for long, but it was long eough for her to break Yaretzi's grip. Thinking quickly, Xochi recloaked. She knew she had a disadvantage here. There were two clear options, escape, or find a way to turn the environment on Yaretszi. Clouds were starting to roll over. The faint sound of thunder could be heard in the distance. Xochi couldn't help thinking about how she'd much rather be back in the safehouse, curled up on the couch again. But war never waits for the best conditions. She knew that sometimes she had to fight in less-than-ideal circumstances. She made her way back to the river, looking for the prototype. There it was, on the ground. She paused and looked at it, then glanced down the river hoping to see signs of Etzli. That was when she heard an ominous chuckle. "You think that pathetic cloak will save you." Yaretzi emerged from the increasingly shadowed forest, her eyes glowing like a cat... like a jaguar. "Oh you're so naive. My occular implants were specially calibrated for spotting people when they're cloaked. I can see you clearly." Yaretzi wrapped her hands around Xochi's throat and shoved her backward, crashing into the water. She then began to push her head under. Every feral instinct in Xochi kicked in. Her arms flailed as she tried to break Yaretzi's hold, but it was too strong. It all seemed so hopeless, until she managed to see one small detail through the rippling waves. Xochi's knife was still embedded in Yaretzi's shoulder, but a more tactical strike was neccessary. It wouldn't be enough to kill her, but Xochi could see just how to turn the situation around. With one hand, Xochi grabbed the knife and yanked it out. That seemed to be enough to loosen Yaretzi's grip as she cried out. Now was her one chance. Xochi shoved the knife into Yaretzi's eye. Suddenly the glow stopped. Her eye seemed to shatter like glass, and sparks appeared around the knife's hilt That did it. The shock of being partially blinded was enough to knock Yaretzi over. giving Xochi the opportunity to get back on her feet. She reached for the knife in what remained of Yaretzi's eye, and yanked it out. Slowly Xochi picked up the case, just in time to see Yaretzi stumble to her feet. She charged toward Xochi, but this time it was different. Her attacks seemed random, confused. Like Yaretzi had forgotten how to fight and was reduced to pure feral rage. Before she could do much else, there was a sudden explosion from under her. Yaretzi was flung into the treeline, crashing into a heap on the ground. Xochi paused, slightly disoriented, before she saw the approaching hovercraft. Chantico was enthusiastically posed on the front, with a large grenade launcher in hand. The hovercraft pulled up next to Xochi, and she quickly climbed in with the case. "Are you okay?" Etzli said. "Just ran into some trouble," Xochi replied. "Let's get out of here before Yaretzi wakes up." Etzli quickly started up the engine and began driving the hovercraft back toward the safehouse. "Now that they know we're here we probably shouldn't stick around much longer," Etzli said. "Already on it," Thalestris replied, as she reached for her own earpiece. "This is A-04. Package secured, requesting extraction." The Swamp seemed much calmer now, but they knew it wouldn't last long. Getting out of there was top priority. As the Safehouse came into view, Xochi took a deep breath. Everything was looking good so far. They pulled up on the shore. So far it seemed if any Valravn personel were left, they were too scattered to put up much of a fight. "Chopper's on its way," Thalestris said as she climbed off the hovercraft. "We just need to wait a few minutes. Etzli reached for her earpiece. "Techui, any sign of hostiles." "I got some movement," Techui replied. "They look pretty scattered, but I'd still recommend caution." "Alright," Etzli replied. "Thalestris, keep us updated on the chopper. We'll fall back to the house until it arrives. "I can set up some explosives," Chantico said. "Okay, just use a manual detonator. I don't want any civillians getting caught in the blast if we don't use them." Chantico nodded as she ran back toward the house. The others quickly followed. No sooner had Xochi entered than she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her. She shouldn't have been too surprised to see her sister, but in that moment it felt strange. "I was worried about you," Eta said. Xochi paused before slowly returning the gesture. In that moment of affection, it was easy to see the physical resemblance between the twins, even if they seemed so different from each other. After letting go, Xochi made her way to a nearby couch and quickly planted herself in it. She was sweating, and visibly exhausted. That much was hardly surprising. Everyone knew it took a lot of energy to keep up both a disguise and a memetic cloak. Almost immediately, Eta handed her a bottle of water, which Xochi began guzzling. "Is she okay?" Thalestris asked. "Just a bit tired," Etzli replied. "Keeping up a disguise with a memetic cloak takes a lot of energy. Plus she could probably use the rest after that beating." Suddenly she was approached by Techui. "Any word on our extraction?" "They should be here in about 10 minutes." "Good," Tecuih replied. "But we have a problem. More hostiles incoming. I guess someone called for backup." "Alright, Tecuih, give us some air support. " "Got it, but it looks like it's going to be hot." "We're going to have to take cover in here," Etzli said. "Chantico, see if you can get a few charges set before they arrive. Eta, I need you on overwatch again. Thalestris, you're with me. on the front." "What about me," Xochi asked. "You've already done enough," Etzli said. "Try to relax, but be ready in case they breach." Eta quickly made her way back to the upper window. Her rifle was already prepared. She just had to start aiming. Etzli took position at the front, with Thalestris next to her. They waited. The minutes ticked by. "You see anything yet?" "I have eyes on something," Teicuih reported. "Something big. It looks like- oh shi-" Before she could say anything more a large hulking machine tore through the wall, latching itself onto Etzli and pulling her down. It looked almost like a robotic bear, except somehow with much sharper fangs and claws. Of course they had a Berserk. Etzli was quickly held down by the abomination, struggling to break free of its grip. She cried out as one of its sharp claws ran into her shoulder. Thalestris charged toward the machine, spear in hand. Impressively, she managed to score a hit that sent sparks flying and knocked some of the metal loose, exposing a piece of the hidden flesh underneath. That was the unsettling part. It was easy to forget these mechanical abominations were in fact cyborgs. Even more bizarre, nobody seemed to know where these biological components came from. Theories among Valravn staff ranged from mutating captured enemies to elaborate synthetic engineering. The source of the berserks was one of many Valravn mysteries known only to a select few at the very top. The exposed skin seemed to enrage the berserk, as if it was not already enraged enough, and it quickly turned its attention towards Thalestris. Etzli screamed as she felt its claw yanked out of her shoulder. Next thing they knew, the mechanical bear was on top of Thalestris. She collapsed to the ground, but not completely unprepared. She still had a shield. As the Berserk stood on its hind legs, looking like it was going to provide a massive ground slam, Thalestris readied her shield. Its claws slammed into it with a metal clank. As the Berserk tried a second pounding, Thalestris rolled out of the way. Suddenly, a bullet struck the creature. It was not enough to do any serious damage, but it seemed to hit just the right spot to dislodge a piece of armor, exposing its neck area. Only one person could make a shot //that// precise. Eta stood in the doorframe, rifle in hand, readying herself to take the next shot. But even her reaction times were had to match with the bear's speed. It was running towards her when suddenly someone jumped in front. It was Chantico, with a small block of C4 in hand. "I got this," As the berserk got close, Chantico shoved the explosive into its mouth with all the strength she could muster, impaling it on the spears inside. She pushed Eta aside and hit her detonator. A small explosion came out of the creature's mouth. Suddenly there was smoke bellowing from its now-slightly dislodged jaws, and broken speartips literring the floor. Tecuih needed a few minutes to get the drone insight, but she could hear the commotion in the lower floor. She knew she needed to help them. She quickly flew it back into what remained of the house, and fired on the berserk. The berserk turned its attention toward the drone, swinging its claws at it, but the damage it had already faced seemed to reduce its speed. Tecuih was keeping it just out of reach. Eta reached for her sidearm and approached, seeing the distraction as an opportunity to hit the bear in its weak points. She squeezed off two shots before it turned toward her, and pounced, quickly pulling her down. But Eta saw an even greater opportunity. She slowly lifted her gun, aiming it straight into the bear's mouth, and fired. The Berserk roared as it stepped backward, clearly injured but unwilling to go down without a fight. And then it happened. Seemingly out of nowhere, a large gash appeared in the Berserk's neck. It turned and started trying to strike at its target. Only it couldn't seem to find her. It seemed to be swatting repeatedly at nothing before another precise strike hit it in the side. Then another in the neck, which produced a gash that seemed to just keep expanding. Something was dripping out of the berserk, possibly blood. Finally, the monster began to stumble, roaring as it tried to find the unseen attacker, before being hit one more time, and collapsing. As the berserk hit the ground, Xochi uncloaked herself. She looked tired and bruised but in far better condition than her opponent, and she had a knife soaked in the luiquid that had been dripping from the bear. Teicuih ran into the room, her drone automatically flying towards her, and carefully folding itself into the back of her armor. Upon seeing Etzli, Teicuih was shocked and ran toward her, quickly pulling her into her arms. "Chopper's here," Thalestris said, obviously a little out of breath. "We need to get moving." "Leaving already?" A familiar voice said, with a faint but malicious chuckle. They looked toward the opening to see none other than Yaretzi stepping through. She looked bruised, and her armor looked like it had seen better days, Only one eye was still working, the other an empty hole. All that seemed to just make her more intimidating. "You still have a debt. What was it they say? Oh yeah, an eye for an eye." She pointed to her empty socket. "Your quarrel is with me," Etzli said, between breaths. She grunted from the pain as she hung from Teicuih’s shoulder. "Let the others go." "You see," Yaretzi said as she stepped in. "That's the problem with you. You're too caught up in this absurd fantasy that you can have a family. Your loyalty is to Valravn. You remember your contract? You signed it. But this notion of sisterhood is a weakness. You coddle your squad, when they should know to fear you." "You see that's where we differ," Etzli said. "You use fear and intimidation to force your squad to follow you. You make them afraid of what you will do if they do not. I don't have to." "You keep telling yourself that." Yaretzi said. "But you're not the one who pulled my eye out. Or the one who shot me. Or the one who fired a grenade at me." "You should have thought of that before attacking us," Yaretzi chuckled in that ominous tone that implied she was up to something. "I did," As if on cue, a pair of centaur-like figures appeared at the opening. Chirons, they called them. "More minions to do your dirty work?" Etzli asked. "Just like you to be too cowardly to do it yourself." "On the contrary," Yaretzi said, her voice sounding especially smug. "I'm just smart enough to make sure I have an advantage." Before anything could happen, a bullet struck one of the Chirons in the head, and it toppled to the ground. The noise of a helicopter came from overhead. Another shot hit Yaretzi, whose one eye stopped glowing. Eta lowered her smoking rifle. For anyone else, the shots might have been impossible but Eta... she knew just how to hit them where it hurt. For most people, a knife and a bullet to both eyes would be fatal. But Yaretzi was a Valkyrie. They were designed to have a high tolerance for pain, and they could take a lot more than most. Yaretzi staggered, but she kept her footing. Losing her sight only seemed to enrage her more, but at least it made it harder for her to attack. The remaining Chiron was suddenly tackled to the ground by an invisible force. As he struggled, he found himself at a disadvantage once prone, and was quickly dealt with. Xochi reappeared, yanking her knife out of its neck. Teicuih quickly began carrying Etzli out through the opening, past the presently-incapacitated Yaretzi. The others followed, each one with their weapons trained on the surrounding area. Thalestris grabbed the prototype as they ran. As the helicopter came in for a landing, two women stepped off, both in the distinct uniforms of the Task Force known as "Street Samurai." "Did you get it?" One of them asked as she approached. "We got it, Johnston," Thalestris yelled over the helicopter's rotors. She handed her the prototype. "LET'S GO!" Johnston quickly led the squad back to the helicopter. One by one they climbed inside. Teicuih quickly brought Etzli in, and gently placed her on one of the seats. "She needs help," Teicuih yelled. "I'll see what I can do," Johnston replied. Next was Chantico, followed by Eta, Xochi, and Thalestris. The helicopter began to take off. Johnston closed the door. They were a few feet off the ground when they suddenly felt turbulence. "What's going on?" Thalestris asked. "I'm not sure," the pilot yelled back. "It's like we've got extra weig-" And then they saw what happened. The door swung open, and who should be waiting but Yaretzi. "We're not done yet," Yaretzi jumped in, lunging at Xochi. In the tight quarters of the helicopter, it was hard to do much, but Yaretzi quickly felt her claws smash into Thalestris's shield. "Hey," she heard a voice call out. Eta stood, pistol in hand. Yaretzi turned toward her. "Stay away from my sister." Eta fired, the bullet flying straight into Yaretzi's hand. She roared as she swung her arms around wildly, blindly trying to strike at anything. Etzli stood, mustering all the strength she could to shove Yaretzi out of the helicopter. She fell through the open door. It seemed to work, for a moment, until she felt the chopper wobble. Etzli stumbled toward the door, looking down to see Yaretzi hanging from the chopper's skids, by one hand. "Pull me up," Yaretzi called, trying to reach up with her free hand, but in her blinded state, it was no use. "HELP ME! We're Valkyries, right? We're sisters!" Etzli reached one arm out towards Eta, who immediately handed her the pistol. She stared down into Yaretzi's eyes. If only she could see how cold her face was in that moment. "You are not my sister," Etzli squeezed off one shot, striking Yaretzi's hand. Her grip suddenly loosened. The Jaguar Warrior fell into the swamp below, out of sight. At that moment, the pain of her injury began to catch up with her. Etzli felt herself stumbling before being grabbed. Teicuih held her by the arm, and led her back to her seat. "Is she..." Johnston asked. "Probably not." Chantico replied. Etzli took a seat as Teicuih began looking at her injury. "It's okay," Teicuih muttered. "We'll get you patched up when we get back. Right now, you just need to rest." Etzli nodded, she let her head fall against the wall and closed her eyes. "What do you think?" Thalestris asked. Johnston smiled. "Well, it's Richter's decision, but it seems like your Eagle warriors are a valuable asset." She looked to the door. "Who was that?" "An old enemy," Teicuih replied. "I'll tell you all about it when we're out of here." ------ Dr. Curtis paced anxiously as he stood outside the office, trying to brace himself for the inevitable chewing out he was about to receive. This was not a good way to make a decent first impression on Ceballos. He'd already gotten a ton of Valravn personel killed and lost the important prototype. There weren't very many excuses that could justify that. Having to walk out of a swamp didn't do much to help his mood, either. And listening to Yaretzi's snoring didn't help. The Jaguar Warrior commander was seated on the bench with her head leaning against the wall, fast asleep, while a Valravn tech sat next to her, carefully performing maintenance on her body. Not like she couldn't use the rest after what they had been through, but listening to her snore for what felt like hours was not doing much good for his mind. He could barely focus. Trying to formulate an explanation for his actions seemed an increasingly futile exercise. Finally, the door opened, and Dr. Ceballos stepped out, clipboard in hand. "You're Dr. Arthur Curtis?" "Yes, sir?" "I've read your file. Your father was an interesting man." "I'm better than he ever was." "Oh, I don't doubt that. But this prototype of yours sounds like it could have been something special. What happened?" "You saw the report." "I want to hear it from you," Dr. Curtis took a deep breath. "We were diverted to a safehouse in the middle of a swamp. And, I thought you were there? But you weren't? Someone was impersonating you..." "Who?" "Olga Brandt. She had an army of Valkyries waiting for us." "The report mentions you had one of your own." "What?" "A valkyrie. Why'd you bring her along?" "She insisted on coming," Dr. Curtis replied. "I figured we needed anyone we could get." "I see. It seems Olga's' up to something. You saw her, didn't you?" "Briefly," "That bastard's been trying to shut down my robots. She's scared that drones are going to put her out of business. And now she's using her pathetic Valkyries to do her dirty work? Figures. How would you like to get back at her." Curtis smiled. "I would like that very much." "I can help," said a voice from nearby. Yaretzi slowly lifted her head. As she opened her eyes, the scientists could see they were glowing once again. She stretched as she sat up. "You want to take down Olga Brandt? I have some information that might be of interest to you." Ceballos and Curtis paused, both surprised by the offer. "Why would you help us?" Ceballos asked. Yaretzi smiled. "That's for me to know, and you to find out." "Do you think we can trust her?" Ceballos whispered. "Probably not, but she's been useful so far." Yaretzi chuckled. "Those Valkyries you found, they weren't just any unit." "You know them?" Ceballos asked. "The Eagle Warriors. They're traitors." "I think I heard about that," Ceballos said. "They just abandoned their post one day and went off the grid." "And now they're working personally for Olga Brandt. Strange, isn't it?" "It is," Curtis replied. "Why would Olga be working with deserters?" Ceballos asked. Yaretzi shrugged. "No idea," though of course that was a lie. She already knew they weren't working for Olga, but for now, she decided it was better to keep them in the dark, let them follow their misguided assumptions. "I guess we need a way to beat Olga at her own game. What coul-" "I might have an idea." Curtis interjected. "Really?" Ceballos replied. "Remember Project Jotunn?" "Of course. It was a disaster." "Yes, but I think I have an idea for how we can make it work this time. And if I'm right, we can take your drone technology to a whole new level." Ceballos paused, eyeing Curtis with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "I'm Listening." [[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>]]	2023-04-13T21:45:00	[ "_licensebox", "ninth-world", "tale", "valravn" ]	Where Eagles Stand, and Jaguars Hunt - SCP Foundation	12	[ "scp-191", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "valravn-corporation-hub", "the-ninth-world-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1447247116	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/where-eagles-stand-and-jaguars-hunt
where-there-s-smoke	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Content Warning</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- Hide whatever</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <p>Violence and disturbing imagery; reader discretion is advised</p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>« <a href="/burning-scarlet">First Part - Burning Scarlet</a></p> </div> <hr/> <p>The sun was only barely above the horizon, when I left to enter into the coolness outside my hotel. I followed behind Bill, to a small crowd ganging around a building I couldn't see. It took me a moment to realize it was the newspaper building, the one I had pass a dozen or so times on the way to the town hall. The <em>Kenning-Tribune</em> was the only paper in town. Soon it would be under new management, as its current editor and owner, Mr. Clark, was dead.</p> <p>We talked past the Sheriff and his ten deputies outside, struggling to keep the thronging group of newly awakened townspeople. Behind the Sheriff, was an older woman, late 30s minimum, staring a thousand miles into space. A little boy was in her arms, another standing right beside her. They looked confused. We walked inside, past them.</p> <p>The first thing we saw was a desk, a small typewriter in the middle with endless white towers surrounding it. Some of them spilled onto the floor. Here and there on the white/yellow canvases were drops of blood. They stained the wooden floor and trailed deeper into the building. Here and there on the walls fire made its mark, ever so subtly.</p> <p>"I'll check it out. You guard the entrance."</p> <p>Bill nodded.</p> <p>The spots of blood were random and small. They got progressively wetter the further along I went, until I looked up, and saw iron and steel.</p> <p>Printing presses. Two of them. As I followed I saw that they had been melted. Rollers and gears had lost their smooth edges, solidified air-bubbles covering its surface. Some of it had gotten onto the floor - and yet, it hadn't melted through the wood. It was just there, a mass of steel and iron imbedded into the floor.</p> <p>I bent down, touched it. Cold.</p> <p>It was there that I began to smell, and I stopped moving as I noticed the familiar scent of burning meat. It turned my stomach, as I remembered the aroma, the sickly sweetness that mixed in with iron and sulfur, and I felt bile rise up in my throat. Refined instinct overpowered the sensation, pushing it back down and forcing myself to not react. I didn't gag. I didn't have a right to.</p> <p>I moved forward. My heart was beating against my chest, and I remembered the same sensations I had felt a lifetime ago, the same taste of the roof of my mouth and the scent of my nostrils and the sensations of the hairs on my body gently rubbing against my clothing. I conjured up the images I associated with them. They steeled me.</p> <p>And then it was there, laying upright, against a burned wall that still remained upright somehow, was a mass of charred flesh, arms and knees flexing upward. I took it in. My heart beat faster, the blood pumped, weakness in my legs and twitching of fingers, all things I had almost forgotten.</p> <p>I pushed the bile down and turned my attention to the ash and soot that surrounded his body. There was no other fire damage that I can see. Aside from him, the fire only singed, and in many places you couldn't tell anything was out of place at all. I hoovered my hand over his knee, right until my hand was above his flesh. I took a deep breathe, and pressed down.</p> <p>Charred. And cold. As if it had gone out a couple days ago rather than just a couple hours ago. Even now I could see, however slightly, my own breathe, and yet nothing came from from this.</p> <p>I got up, stumbling backwards as turned away, leaving, moving past the machinery and into the better ventilated part of the building. The stench had left me, and the overwhelming sickness disappeared. It always did, once I looked away.</p> <p>Bill was there. He didn't react. That wasn't surprising.</p> <p>"When did they find the body?"</p> <p>"An hour or so ago."</p> <p>"It's cold. Dead cold."</p> <p>"I'm afraid you got more than one of those things kicking around here, Mr. Crane."</p> <p>"We, Mr. Underwood."</p> <p>Bill rolled his eyes. His face betrayed nothing as he dropped the next detail.</p> <p>"Mrs. Clark saw the man who did it."</p> <hr/> <p>I told the Sheriff to disperse the crowd. He nodded, and, in a loud, deep voice that I hadn't heard him speak in before, ordered them to return to their business. They did, slowly disappearing into their own lives in their homes or their stores or wherever else.</p> <p>One, however, didn't - an older woman, talking with Mrs. Emma Clark. The baby in her hands had been transferred to the older woman, along with the boy, who was holding her hand. Mrs. Clark was saying something as I approached.</p> <p>I saw her eyes dart to me before returning to look at her children. "Please behave for nanny, alright?"</p> <p>Desperation bled through her voice.</p> <p>The boy nodded violently, afraid.</p> <p>The baby boy blurted out, "Papa," in a tired, slurry voice.</p> <p>"Please," said Mrs. Clark, trying to smile even as her voice cracked.</p> <p>The older woman was off. The boy followed, looking behind as Mrs. Clark waved a shaking hand.</p> <p>For a couple seconds I said nothing. It was her that spoke up first.</p> <p>"Please don't let them see him. Not like this."</p> <p>"I promise."</p> <p>"Please don't let me see him like that."</p> <p>"I'll try."</p> <hr/> <p>The deputies exited the building through the back. They scrambled out, Bill said, vomiting and gagging at the sight. After they were done, they'd wrap the body up in white sheets and bring him to the carpenter. His casket was already picked in advance, she said.</p> <p>"Georgie is like that," she said. "Always preparing for everything."</p> <p>Her voice croaked. She tried to smile.</p> <p>We sat in her living room above the newsroom. It was comfortable. A radio was in the corner, silent. White and blue clothe dotted the place. She sat on the couch, and I opposite to her in a chair near the door.</p> <p>She held a coffee in her hand. She had picked it up off a tiny table in the middle of the room when we had entered, and I was sure it was cold. She sipped from it anyway, as if afraid to be left without something to do, something to distract. She looked off to the side. Her eyes glazed over. I knew she wasn't here, but somewhere else, far away from here, thinking of the future or the past or some other present that wasn't this one.</p> <p>"He died screaming."</p> <p>I felt a slight lump develop in my throat.</p> <p>"I heard him. From upstairs. I heard him scream and then stop, and for a moment, I thought I had imagined it. The baby screamed, and I was about to go to it when I smelled something burning."</p> <p>She held the cup to her lips. She sipped at non-existent coffee at the top. She continued to stare off into space.</p> <p>"What did you do, Mrs. Clark?"</p> <p>"I went to check on my husband. He gets up early to start up his editorials and letter writing." She laughed, smiling, voice cracking. Her red eyes were staring past me, maybe even through me. I wonder if she even saw me.</p> <p>"I went downstairs and I wanted to be quiet because he hates being interrupted before breakfast, and then I heard the boots."</p> <p>"Boots?"</p> <p>"And I saw him. And he was holding a….a giant weapon. On his back. And it spat fire. I saw him, burning the machines. Burning them until they melted and for a moment I thought it was him - no, I prayed it was him, but I knew it wasn't because he was young."</p> <p>"How young?"</p> <p>"He could have fought in the war. He was hiding his face. And then the fires stopped. Just like that. And then he looked at me. I didn't move. I was so scared, sir. I don't think I've ever been so scared before in my life. He walked until we were face to face. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. He looked at me, and he….and he…."</p> <p>She stopped. She looked away, to a spot to the right of me, and I saw her eyes rest on a small cabinet near the windows. She looked back to me, hesitatingly, and then, as if making up her mind, went to it. She opened it and removed a bottle and something else. She sat back down, placing two shot glasses down with a trembling hand. She offered me the bottle, and I held up my hand.</p> <p>She took my shot glass, and poured brownish-amber liquid into one. Her hand shook as she did it, spilling it onto the table, flowing down and onto the carpeted floor, seeping out and spreading. If she noticed she didn't care. She gulped the shot down in an instant.</p> <p>She took another before she continued.</p> <p>"I am sorry."</p> <p>"It's alright."</p> <p>"It calms me."</p> <p>I patted the matches in my coat pocket.</p> <p>"I understand."</p> <p>"He wouldn't have liked me doing that."</p> <p>We sat in silence for a couple moments.</p> <p>"What did he do, Mrs. Clark?"</p> <p>She bit her lip, and went back to staring at me, through me, and into another world I couldn't see.</p> <p>"He….he apologized."</p> <p>"He what?"</p> <p>"He….he <em>apologized!</em> I didn't understand, not then, not until I realized I couldn't see Georgie. I asked him, 'What did you do? What did you do?', and he simply hung his head in shame. He then reached for something in his pocket, and I thought he was going to kill me. That was until I saw he had an envelope in his hand. He gave it to me. And told me to not open it until he left. And then he walked out, that….that thing on his back clanking all the way. I heard hooves pounding. Imagine that, huh? A man wearing that on horseback."</p> <p>She let out a pained laughed.</p> <p>"I saw him in there. I couldn't even move, sir. I could only stare and hold the envelope."</p> <p>"Did you see any defining features? Anything that marked him? Anything I could use to identify him?"</p> <p>She shook her head. Her head swayed slightly, barely noticeable if she hadn't been completely upright and rigid throughout our conversation.</p> <p>"A short man. Nothing else I could see."</p> <p>"And the envelope, what was in it?"</p> <p>She said nothing. She pulled something out of pocket, and unfolded it. It was a thick, brown envelop. She slowly handed it to me, across the table. I took it, and noticed how light it was.</p> <p>"I didn't want to open it. I….I don't want to know."</p> <p>I tried asking more questions. She tried answering as best she could - about any enemies, about friends, about his business and his beliefs and his everything - but I could tell her thoughts always returned to that moment, those seconds that seemed to stretch out into eternity, face-to-face with something you could never in a million years begin to comprehend, replaying them, over and over again.</p> <p>I asked if there was anything else I could do for her, to give her a little time to rest. She said nothing as I got up, and straightened my jacket.</p> <p>"No, but…but you could pick up my children. From Miss Perkins."</p> <p>I stopped, heart skipping a beat, mind stopped mid-thought.</p> <p>"Pardon?"</p> <p>"Miss Perkins. The woman I was talking with. Down there."</p> <p>I returned to the moment, remembering it, analyzing it — rearranging it, fitting it with new knowledge. The face morphed, shifting, mouth into a smile, and I placed her and the black-veiled woman side by side. By the time I was done, I realized it could be no one but her, the woman, in the flesh, that I had been looking for.</p> <p>"It doesn't have to be you. I know, its a lot to ask, but I'm afraid, because I don't—"</p> <p>"I promise, Mrs. Clark. I will. You have my word. I'll station a sentry outside too. We won't let the bastard get away, ma'am."</p> <p>She strained a smile. She told me her address, and then stopped speaking. "Thank you."</p> <p>She said nothing else. She stayed on the couch. She didn't even try to look up at me, only staring past my legs and at the wall behind me. There was nothing else to be said that could get her out of that. Certainly not from me.</p> <p>I made my goodbye. I closed the door, and for a couple seconds, I stayed there, and began to think.</p> <p>It was punctuated by a horrible, agonized scream behind the door, muffled by two inches of wood and a thousand miles of distance between its crier and the world around her.</p> <hr/> <p>I whistled for my horse, and got on as soon as she arrived. My left foot wasn't even in the stirrup before I flicked the reins. She neighed violently, almost bucking me off before she began to move. I flicked the rope again and again until she was galloping down the road. The street quickly disappeared as I went down the outlet that would take me to Perkins home.</p> <p>Hooves pounded the dirt, tossing it up, clouding the road behind me. I raised myself off the saddle, just a bit, to allow her to more freely run, to move faster, and I held onto the reins for dear life as I felt the bile rise up in my throat from nervousness and fear and excitement.</p> <p>I pushed it down. I always did. I was good at that.</p> <p>The plains were punctuated by the forests, all seemingly connected to one another in a small unbroken chain. They were like rivers, flowing in streams, perfectly cut by generations of settlers until little remain but what they had allowed too. But even here, on the road, with my heart beating against my chest like a maxim gun's kickback, I could see just a little of that patchwork of trees and logs and grass and animals and streams that lay beyond the manicured edges.</p> <p>How far did it go? How easy was it, for a man with a flamethrower on his back, to hide in there? How easy was it to travel through it? Clanking metal in the twilight of dawn would not have been easy to muffle. Horseback was the easiest answer - but that would require someone with exceptional skill. It wasn't easy to remain calm when a thousand trees and bushes were coming at you all at once. Who had that?</p> <p>And how did she fit into this? How?</p> <p>Young man. Old man. Old woman. Two dead men. Two monstruous weapons - no motive. The puzzle grew larger without any connecting pieces. I was drowning in a sea of questions and there was no hope that I was rushing towards the surface or to the abyss.</p> <p>She began to slow down. I let her, as I knew that we were close. I knew the place Mrs. Clark spoke of. I had passed it on my way into town, further past Hendrick's mansion, a small house on a little hill. I hadn't looked at it too closely, hadn't even really thought much of it, as mundane as it was compared to any other farmhouse on the side of the road.</p> <p>I reached for my belt. I felt for the holster, pulling out a .38 Colt, feeling the cold metal that sent a shiver up my arm and down my spine. It was like a bolt of electricity, traveling up and down my body, and I loved it. I popped out the cylinder, and saw the six bullets snugly in, ready to fire. I popped it back in and shoved it into the holster, and felt my knees go a little weak at the thought of using it.</p> <p>Suddenly, as I finished strapping it in, I saw it, to the right, and I could see it. It was on a little hill, just as I had remembered, surrounded by an couple acres of swaying corn. I remembered what I had read at the county archives, and remembered how many acres she sold in the past two years. It was strange, to image that it was once bigger. Outside, I could half a dozen children in the yard, congregating, running, shouting.</p> <p>I held the reins back fully. She slowed, and began to walk at a slow trot. She was tired. She deserved a break.</p> <hr/> <p>A little girl was the first to notice me. She waved to me, smiling, as I road up to the foot of the hill. The other children were too busy playing to notice me yet. I pushed the nervousness down, and tried my best to smile.</p> <p>"Heya mister."</p> <p>"Morning. Is this Miss Perkins place?"</p> <p>The little girl nodded.</p> <p>"You got a reason to speak to her, mister?"</p> <p>She smiled, but I saw a little glean in her eyes.</p> <p>"A friendly visit."</p> <p>"I ain't ever seen <em>you</em> around here."</p> <p>"I'm a visitor."</p> <p>"Where ya from?"</p> <p>She walked alongside my horse as I approached the hill. The children were starting to notice, stopping what they were doing and pointing to me. I tried to put up a smile, and waved my hat at them.</p> <p>"Out east, my dear," I said.</p> <p>"Like the Mississippi?"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>She kept asking questions. I smiled and evaded. Yes, I'm from east. No, I am not from the South - Ohio, born and raised. Yes, I've been to the west coast. California is, indeed, pretty country. Yes, I fought. Yes, we whipped them.</p> <p>She asked questions about the war. She asked questions about the places I'd been. She asked what the people were like. In the three minute trot she must have shot off three or so dozen questions, and before I knew it, I had given her a little geography course. By this time, the children had begun to meet at the front building in little groups, always looking back to me every couple of seconds, even as they spoke.</p> <p>I got off my horse.</p> <p>" — and France? How was France? What'd you do there? Was it fun? Was it? Must have been. I wanna see France. I wanna see Germany, too. I'd have to learn how to speak German and Francey. Can you teach me? I hope that I can maybe live there, it seems -"</p> <p>I looked at the kids, and tried looking for Clark's boys. I couldn't see them, which I should have expected.</p> <p>"Can you take me to her? Miss Perkins, I mean."</p> <p>She stopped speaking, unusually. It took her a moment to think. She began to grin.</p> <p>"Hmmm….maybe….if you teach me how to speak Francey."</p> <p>"French?"</p> <p>"Yeah!"</p> <p>"I'll teach you a couple words, if you can take me to her How would that sound?"</p> <p>She smiled.</p> <p>"Follow me! She's inside taking care of the babies! And I'm Mary! What's your name?"</p> <hr/> <p>The inside was a ramshackle thing, a single small living room with a corridor connecting to what I presumed was a bedroom. Mary began to whisper her little questions as we moved further inside, to the living room. I took everything in as fast as I could, searching for anything of note, anything suspicious, even as her questions about the proper way to say <em>hello</em> in French were clogging up my thoughts. Children's toys littered the floor. Flashes of charred flesh and bleeding wounds popped into my mind and I wondered if I would have the courage to arrest her in front of all those kids.</p> <p>What if I had to kill her?</p> <p>She wouldn't. She's a smart woman.</p> <p>But I couldn't be sure. Desperate people did desperate things.</p> <p>But she certainly wouldn't kill, not in front of the children. Too many witnesses, even if they did have the desire. They just wouldn't.</p> <p>Would they?</p> <p>I patted the matches in my pocket as we got closer. I imagined the flame swaying in the darkness of a cool, windy night, growing larger with each and every second. I repeated, unconsciously, to myself that there was safety in the light, safety in the light, safety in the light, over and over again, just as we approached our destination, what I presumed to be the bedroom.</p> <p>Mary knocked on the door. She looked up at me, smiling. I tried to smile back. Safety in the light, safety in the light.</p> <p>"Who is it?" asked a voice behind the door.</p> <p>"It's Mary, Miss Perkins! I have a visitor!"</p> <p>"Oh, who could it be?"</p> <p>I heard her giggle on the other end. I felt my heart race as the locks began to click, and it started to swing open, and I saw her, the woman, smiling, aged but still beautiful. Her eyes were big and blue, and her hair was flowing down behind her. She looked at me, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw recognition in them. But it was gone just as soon as it appeared. I tried to speak, but before I could, she spoke first.</p> <p>"Oh, Mary, who is this?"</p> <p>"He's Mister Crane! He said he wanted to talk to you!"</p> <p>She looked to Mary and back to me.</p> <p>"Oh! Looks like I have another suitor! Oh, Mary, what will Mr. Denny say?"</p> <p>Mary giggled.</p> <p>"I, um, am sorry, Miss Perkins, to intrude but -"</p> <p>She cut me off, and spoke to Mary.</p> <p>"Go off and play. This is adult business - can I trust you to tell the others that?"</p> <p>She nodded, and was about to run off before she turned to me, smiling.</p> <p>"You better teach me some French!"</p> <p>The door slammed behind her.</p> <p>I looked at her, expecting her expression to change. It didn't.</p> <p>"So, Mr. Crane, you'd like to talk, eh?"</p> <p>She laughed. I laughed too, nervously.</p> <p>"I'd love to, but, I am afraid I have some wood that needs some cutting. Help a poor widow out, would you?"</p> <hr/> <p>I chopped and I asked. She sat and answered. I was near a stump, and she on the back of her porch, in a rocking chair.</p> <p>I introduced myself, and she in turn. I told her my real business, although I knew that she knew that wasn't the whole truth. I don't doubt she did the same thing to me.</p> <p>"The boys are just fine, dear," she said, when I asked about the Clark boys. "Just taking a nap, is all."</p> <p>I nodded, slamming the axe into the log. It split in two. I lowered the axe and put another one on. I hadn't done this in a long time, so I was surprised to see how naturally it still came to me.</p> <p>We kept going back and forth, talking about mundanity, even as I knew that a man had been burnt to death not less a mile from here. I also knew, in the deepest, darkest depths of my mind and soul, that she had something to do with it. And yet I was here, talking with her, smiling, laughing.</p> <p>"A detective isn't a common sight around here," she said, rocking back and forth.</p> <p>"I'm taken all over. Here, there, everywhere."</p> <p>"Must have seen a lot."</p> <p>"Mary was asking about that."</p> <p>"She's such a curious girl. She wanted to fight in the war, you know. Always liked playing soldier with the boys."</p> <p>"Hopefully they won't be playing soldier in the future."</p> <p>"You fight in the war, Mr. Crane?"</p> <p>"Yes. Near Meuse."</p> <p>"My son was killed in the Argonne Forest."</p> <p>"I'm sorry."</p> <p>"It wasn't you who did it, Mr. Crane."</p> <p>I wondered who did. And who she blamed.</p> <p>"He wanted to go so badly, you see. I didn't. But it's a mother's duty to support her son, isn't it?"</p> <p>I looked over at her, studying. The sun was overhead and I was tired, but even so, I could see her eyes had wandered off, towards something I couldn't see. Suddenly, she shook her head, and looked over to me.</p> <p>"But enough about that. Tell me, Mr. Crane, how long do you think you'll be in town?"</p> <p>I looked over at her, biting my lips. I stabbed the axe into the wooden stump I was chopping on, and wiped away some of the sweat from my brow. "For as long as we need to find the criminals responsible for this."</p> <p>"Well, I do hope that you find them soon. It will frighten the children."</p> <p>I picked the axe back up, and put another log on top.</p> <p>"I hope so too."</p> <p>"They can say such frightening things. And sometimes I think its true….is what the Granger boy says true, Mr. Crane?"</p> <p>I was halfway through raising the axe before the name clicked. The axe handle almost slipped through my hands before I quickly grasped it, and I quickly looked over to her as it chopped the log in two. She was smiling.</p> <p>"The boy who saw the old man - that was him, wasn't it?"</p> <p>My fingers shook a little as my grip tightened on the lodged axe handle. The wood dug itself into my skin.</p> <p>"That's — well, it's —it's confidential."</p> <p>She continued smiling.</p> <p>"I suppose so, Mr. Crane. He had just said something about it the other day to me, after a nap. He's a truthful little boy, but I wanted to see if it was true."</p> <p>(<em>SHE KNOWS SHE KNOWS</em>)</p> <p>"I just worry for the children, is all. Some of them are getting scared, on account of their parents. Children see and hear a lot of things, Mr. Crane."</p> <p>(<em>SHE KNOWS THAT I KNOW THAT SHE KNOWS</em>)</p> <p>I stood there, my back arched and the axe head still in place on the stump. She just stared at me, smiling. I knew it was her. I knew it, somehow, with dead certainty, that it was her, in spirit if not in fact, who killed those two men in cold blood.</p> <p>But why?</p> <p>Why?</p> <p>"Mr. Crane? Are you alright? You look a little worn for wear."</p> <p>I straightened my back, never taking my eyes off her. I smiled as best I could, and stumbled forward to the porch, struggling to keep the anxiety bleed into my face and body.</p> <p>"I just…need a moment. I haven't done this awhile."</p> <p>"City living must be easy, to get you tired like that so quickly."</p> <p>"It can be."</p> <p>"Washington is a strange place, Mr. Crane."</p> <p>I was about to agree, until I realized, I hadn't told her that.</p> <p>"Yes - wait, how do —"</p> <p>Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from inside. Perkins turned her head around, and I with her. I felt relief, at knowing that I wasn't the only other person here anymore. She got up.</p> <p>"That's Denny, my hand. He should be able to finish this up. Now come, come! He should have some lemonade prepared."</p> <p>I stared, my head dizzy, thoughts jumbled: how did she know? How could she know? Who told her? Why did she let it slip? Why did she talk to me? Why? Why? Why?</p> <p>My thoughts went deeper, deeper into my mind. I thought. I analyzed. I <em>replayed</em>.</p> <p>Every moment of every day I went through in those couple of seconds, thinking of what I could have said, what I could have done, to reveal it. Maybe it was an assumption. But she sounded so sure. How? Who?</p> <p>A spy. It must be a spy, of some sort. There's a mole. That had to be it. Someone was feeding her information. The children were spies too, unintentionally so. Perfect cover story: a poor widow and childless woman, taking care of children, living a peaceful quiet life. No one would suspect anything. No one. <em>No one.</em></p> <p>But how could I know?</p> <p>I couldn't. I had no evidence. Nothing but a gut feeling. Nothing. Delusions masquerading as convictions.</p> <p>But it had to be her. It had to be.</p> <p><em>But why?</em></p> <p>Because she knows where I'm from!</p> <p><em>Educated guess.</em></p> <p>She asked about the Granger boy!</p> <p><em>She probably takes care of him, and he told her.</em></p> <p>The smile!</p> <p><em>A nice, happy smile - is that a crime?</em></p> <p>The thoughts went back and forth, as I sat there, until, suddenly, I felt something on my shoulder, and I felt something I could never experience again, even now, decades later, even if I wanted too. And I don't want to.</p> <p>Agony rushed up my shoulder and into my brain. Pressure building in my skull and my bones and nerves, all along, and I felt like I was on fire, and it hurt, hurt in a way that left you wishing, in that tiny part of your brain, you were dead. It was like my brain was pressing up against my skull and my skull my skin. My teeth were rattling inside my mouth, and I could smell the inside of my nose, feel particles on my skin, taste the roof of my tongue, feel the blood coursing through my veins and electrical nerves pulsating inside me and —</p> <p>Then it went black.</p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: left;"> <p>« <a href="/burning-scarlet">Burning Scarlet</a></p> </div> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><a class="newpage" href="/">???</a> »</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="/where-there-s-smoke">Where There's Smoke</a>" by Zer0Ne0phyte , from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/where-there-s-smoke">https://scpwiki.com/where-there-s-smoke</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>	[[collapsible show="+ Content Warning" hide="- Hide whatever"]] Violence and disturbing imagery; reader discretion is advised [[/collapsible]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[<]] « [[[Burning Scarlet \|First Part - Burning Scarlet]]] [[/<]] ----- The sun was only barely above the horizon, when I left to enter into the coolness outside my hotel. I followed behind Bill, to a small crowd ganging around a building I couldn't see. It took me a moment to realize it was the newspaper building, the one I had pass a dozen or so times on the way to the town hall. The //Kenning-Tribune// was the only paper in town. Soon it would be under new management, as its current editor and owner, Mr. Clark, was dead. We talked past the Sheriff and his ten deputies outside, struggling to keep the thronging group of newly awakened townspeople. Behind the Sheriff, was an older woman, late 30s minimum, staring a thousand miles into space. A little boy was in her arms, another standing right beside her. They looked confused. We walked inside, past them. The first thing we saw was a desk, a small typewriter in the middle with endless white towers surrounding it. Some of them spilled onto the floor. Here and there on the white/yellow canvases were drops of blood. They stained the wooden floor and trailed deeper into the building. Here and there on the walls fire made its mark, ever so subtly. "I'll check it out. You guard the entrance." Bill nodded. The spots of blood were random and small. They got progressively wetter the further along I went, until I looked up, and saw iron and steel. Printing presses. Two of them. As I followed I saw that they had been melted. Rollers and gears had lost their smooth edges, solidified air-bubbles covering its surface. Some of it had gotten onto the floor - and yet, it hadn't melted through the wood. It was just there, a mass of steel and iron imbedded into the floor. I bent down, touched it. Cold. It was there that I began to smell, and I stopped moving as I noticed the familiar scent of burning meat. It turned my stomach, as I remembered the aroma, the sickly sweetness that mixed in with iron and sulfur, and I felt bile rise up in my throat. Refined instinct overpowered the sensation, pushing it back down and forcing myself to not react. I didn't gag. I didn't have a right to. I moved forward. My heart was beating against my chest, and I remembered the same sensations I had felt a lifetime ago, the same taste of the roof of my mouth and the scent of my nostrils and the sensations of the hairs on my body gently rubbing against my clothing. I conjured up the images I associated with them. They steeled me. And then it was there, laying upright, against a burned wall that still remained upright somehow, was a mass of charred flesh, arms and knees flexing upward. I took it in. My heart beat faster, the blood pumped, weakness in my legs and twitching of fingers, all things I had almost forgotten. I pushed the bile down and turned my attention to the ash and soot that surrounded his body. There was no other fire damage that I can see. Aside from him, the fire only singed, and in many places you couldn't tell anything was out of place at all. I hoovered my hand over his knee, right until my hand was above his flesh. I took a deep breathe, and pressed down. Charred. And cold. As if it had gone out a couple days ago rather than just a couple hours ago. Even now I could see, however slightly, my own breathe, and yet nothing came from from this. I got up, stumbling backwards as turned away, leaving, moving past the machinery and into the better ventilated part of the building. The stench had left me, and the overwhelming sickness disappeared. It always did, once I looked away. Bill was there. He didn't react. That wasn't surprising. "When did they find the body?" "An hour or so ago." "It's cold. Dead cold." "I'm afraid you got more than one of those things kicking around here, Mr. Crane." "We, Mr. Underwood." Bill rolled his eyes. His face betrayed nothing as he dropped the next detail. "Mrs. Clark saw the man who did it." ---- I told the Sheriff to disperse the crowd. He nodded, and, in a loud, deep voice that I hadn't heard him speak in before, ordered them to return to their business. They did, slowly disappearing into their own lives in their homes or their stores or wherever else. One, however, didn't - an older woman, talking with Mrs. Emma Clark. The baby in her hands had been transferred to the older woman, along with the boy, who was holding her hand. Mrs. Clark was saying something as I approached. I saw her eyes dart to me before returning to look at her children. "Please behave for nanny, alright?" Desperation bled through her voice. The boy nodded violently, afraid. The baby boy blurted out, "Papa," in a tired, slurry voice. "Please," said Mrs. Clark, trying to smile even as her voice cracked. The older woman was off. The boy followed, looking behind as Mrs. Clark waved a shaking hand. For a couple seconds I said nothing. It was her that spoke up first. "Please don't let them see him. Not like this." "I promise." "Please don't let me see him like that." "I'll try." ---- The deputies exited the building through the back. They scrambled out, Bill said, vomiting and gagging at the sight. After they were done, they'd wrap the body up in white sheets and bring him to the carpenter. His casket was already picked in advance, she said. "Georgie is like that," she said. "Always preparing for everything." Her voice croaked. She tried to smile. We sat in her living room above the newsroom. It was comfortable. A radio was in the corner, silent. White and blue clothe dotted the place. She sat on the couch, and I opposite to her in a chair near the door. She held a coffee in her hand. She had picked it up off a tiny table in the middle of the room when we had entered, and I was sure it was cold. She sipped from it anyway, as if afraid to be left without something to do, something to distract. She looked off to the side. Her eyes glazed over. I knew she wasn't here, but somewhere else, far away from here, thinking of the future or the past or some other present that wasn't this one. "He died screaming." I felt a slight lump develop in my throat. "I heard him. From upstairs. I heard him scream and then stop, and for a moment, I thought I had imagined it. The baby screamed, and I was about to go to it when I smelled something burning." She held the cup to her lips. She sipped at non-existent coffee at the top. She continued to stare off into space. "What did you do, Mrs. Clark?" "I went to check on my husband. He gets up early to start up his editorials and letter writing." She laughed, smiling, voice cracking. Her red eyes were staring past me, maybe even through me. I wonder if she even saw me. "I went downstairs and I wanted to be quiet because he hates being interrupted before breakfast, and then I heard the boots." "Boots?" "And I saw him. And he was holding a....a giant weapon. On his back. And it spat fire. I saw him, burning the machines. Burning them until they melted and for a moment I thought it was him - no, I prayed it was him, but I knew it wasn't because he was young." "How young?" "He could have fought in the war. He was hiding his face. And then the fires stopped. Just like that. And then he looked at me. I didn't move. I was so scared, sir. I don't think I've ever been so scared before in my life. He walked until we were face to face. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. He looked at me, and he....and he...." She stopped. She looked away, to a spot to the right of me, and I saw her eyes rest on a small cabinet near the windows. She looked back to me, hesitatingly, and then, as if making up her mind, went to it. She opened it and removed a bottle and something else. She sat back down, placing two shot glasses down with a trembling hand. She offered me the bottle, and I held up my hand. She took my shot glass, and poured brownish-amber liquid into one. Her hand shook as she did it, spilling it onto the table, flowing down and onto the carpeted floor, seeping out and spreading. If she noticed she didn't care. She gulped the shot down in an instant. She took another before she continued. "I am sorry." "It's alright." "It calms me." I patted the matches in my coat pocket. "I understand." "He wouldn't have liked me doing that." We sat in silence for a couple moments. "What did he do, Mrs. Clark?" She bit her lip, and went back to staring at me, through me, and into another world I couldn't see. "He....he apologized." "He what?" "He....he //apologized!// I didn't understand, not then, not until I realized I couldn't see Georgie. I asked him, 'What did you do? What did you do?', and he simply hung his head in shame. He then reached for something in his pocket, and I thought he was going to kill me. That was until I saw he had an envelope in his hand. He gave it to me. And told me to not open it until he left. And then he walked out, that....that thing on his back clanking all the way. I heard hooves pounding. Imagine that, huh? A man wearing that on horseback." She let out a pained laughed. "I saw him in there. I couldn't even move, sir. I could only stare and hold the envelope." "Did you see any defining features? Anything that marked him? Anything I could use to identify him?" She shook her head. Her head swayed slightly, barely noticeable if she hadn't been completely upright and rigid throughout our conversation. "A short man. Nothing else I could see." "And the envelope, what was in it?" She said nothing. She pulled something out of pocket, and unfolded it. It was a thick, brown envelop. She slowly handed it to me, across the table. I took it, and noticed how light it was. "I didn't want to open it. I....I don't want to know." I tried asking more questions. She tried answering as best she could - about any enemies, about friends, about his business and his beliefs and his everything - but I could tell her thoughts always returned to that moment, those seconds that seemed to stretch out into eternity, face-to-face with something you could never in a million years begin to comprehend, replaying them, over and over again. I asked if there was anything else I could do for her, to give her a little time to rest. She said nothing as I got up, and straightened my jacket. "No, but...but you could pick up my children. From Miss Perkins." I stopped, heart skipping a beat, mind stopped mid-thought. "Pardon?" "Miss Perkins. The woman I was talking with. Down there." I returned to the moment, remembering it, analyzing it -- rearranging it, fitting it with new knowledge. The face morphed, shifting, mouth into a smile, and I placed her and the black-veiled woman side by side. By the time I was done, I realized it could be no one but her, the woman, in the flesh, that I had been looking for. "It doesn't have to be you. I know, its a lot to ask, but I'm afraid, because I don't--" "I promise, Mrs. Clark. I will. You have my word. I'll station a sentry outside too. We won't let the bastard get away, ma'am." She strained a smile. She told me her address, and then stopped speaking. "Thank you." She said nothing else. She stayed on the couch. She didn't even try to look up at me, only staring past my legs and at the wall behind me. There was nothing else to be said that could get her out of that. Certainly not from me. I made my goodbye. I closed the door, and for a couple seconds, I stayed there, and began to think. It was punctuated by a horrible, agonized scream behind the door, muffled by two inches of wood and a thousand miles of distance between its crier and the world around her. ----- I whistled for my horse, and got on as soon as she arrived. My left foot wasn't even in the stirrup before I flicked the reins. She neighed violently, almost bucking me off before she began to move. I flicked the rope again and again until she was galloping down the road. The street quickly disappeared as I went down the outlet that would take me to Perkins home. Hooves pounded the dirt, tossing it up, clouding the road behind me. I raised myself off the saddle, just a bit, to allow her to more freely run, to move faster, and I held onto the reins for dear life as I felt the bile rise up in my throat from nervousness and fear and excitement. I pushed it down. I always did. I was good at that. The plains were punctuated by the forests, all seemingly connected to one another in a small unbroken chain. They were like rivers, flowing in streams, perfectly cut by generations of settlers until little remain but what they had allowed too. But even here, on the road, with my heart beating against my chest like a maxim gun's kickback, I could see just a little of that patchwork of trees and logs and grass and animals and streams that lay beyond the manicured edges. How far did it go? How easy was it, for a man with a flamethrower on his back, to hide in there? How easy was it to travel through it? Clanking metal in the twilight of dawn would not have been easy to muffle. Horseback was the easiest answer - but that would require someone with exceptional skill. It wasn't easy to remain calm when a thousand trees and bushes were coming at you all at once. Who had that? And how did she fit into this? How? Young man. Old man. Old woman. Two dead men. Two monstruous weapons - no motive. The puzzle grew larger without any connecting pieces. I was drowning in a sea of questions and there was no hope that I was rushing towards the surface or to the abyss. She began to slow down. I let her, as I knew that we were close. I knew the place Mrs. Clark spoke of. I had passed it on my way into town, further past Hendrick's mansion, a small house on a little hill. I hadn't looked at it too closely, hadn't even really thought much of it, as mundane as it was compared to any other farmhouse on the side of the road. I reached for my belt. I felt for the holster, pulling out a .38 Colt, feeling the cold metal that sent a shiver up my arm and down my spine. It was like a bolt of electricity, traveling up and down my body, and I loved it. I popped out the cylinder, and saw the six bullets snugly in, ready to fire. I popped it back in and shoved it into the holster, and felt my knees go a little weak at the thought of using it. Suddenly, as I finished strapping it in, I saw it, to the right, and I could see it. It was on a little hill, just as I had remembered, surrounded by an couple acres of swaying corn. I remembered what I had read at the county archives, and remembered how many acres she sold in the past two years. It was strange, to image that it was once bigger. Outside, I could half a dozen children in the yard, congregating, running, shouting. I held the reins back fully. She slowed, and began to walk at a slow trot. She was tired. She deserved a break. ----- A little girl was the first to notice me. She waved to me, smiling, as I road up to the foot of the hill. The other children were too busy playing to notice me yet. I pushed the nervousness down, and tried my best to smile. "Heya mister." "Morning. Is this Miss Perkins place?" The little girl nodded. "You got a reason to speak to her, mister?" She smiled, but I saw a little glean in her eyes. "A friendly visit." "I ain't ever seen //you// around here." "I'm a visitor." "Where ya from?" She walked alongside my horse as I approached the hill. The children were starting to notice, stopping what they were doing and pointing to me. I tried to put up a smile, and waved my hat at them. "Out east, my dear," I said. "Like the Mississippi?" "Yes." She kept asking questions. I smiled and evaded. Yes, I'm from east. No, I am not from the South - Ohio, born and raised. Yes, I've been to the west coast. California is, indeed, pretty country. Yes, I fought. Yes, we whipped them. She asked questions about the war. She asked questions about the places I'd been. She asked what the people were like. In the three minute trot she must have shot off three or so dozen questions, and before I knew it, I had given her a little geography course. By this time, the children had begun to meet at the front building in little groups, always looking back to me every couple of seconds, even as they spoke. I got off my horse. " -- and France? How was France? What'd you do there? Was it fun? Was it? Must have been. I wanna see France. I wanna see Germany, too. I'd have to learn how to speak German and Francey. Can you teach me? I hope that I can maybe live there, it seems -" I looked at the kids, and tried looking for Clark's boys. I couldn't see them, which I should have expected. "Can you take me to her? Miss Perkins, I mean." She stopped speaking, unusually. It took her a moment to think. She began to grin. "Hmmm....maybe....if you teach me how to speak Francey." "French?" "Yeah!" "I'll teach you a couple words, if you can take me to her How would that sound?" She smiled. "Follow me! She's inside taking care of the babies! And I'm Mary! What's your name?" ---- The inside was a ramshackle thing, a single small living room with a corridor connecting to what I presumed was a bedroom. Mary began to whisper her little questions as we moved further inside, to the living room. I took everything in as fast as I could, searching for anything of note, anything suspicious, even as her questions about the proper way to say //hello// in French were clogging up my thoughts. Children's toys littered the floor. Flashes of charred flesh and bleeding wounds popped into my mind and I wondered if I would have the courage to arrest her in front of all those kids. What if I had to kill her? She wouldn't. She's a smart woman. But I couldn't be sure. Desperate people did desperate things. But she certainly wouldn't kill, not in front of the children. Too many witnesses, even if they did have the desire. They just wouldn't. Would they? I patted the matches in my pocket as we got closer. I imagined the flame swaying in the darkness of a cool, windy night, growing larger with each and every second. I repeated, unconsciously, to myself that there was safety in the light, safety in the light, safety in the light, over and over again, just as we approached our destination, what I presumed to be the bedroom. Mary knocked on the door. She looked up at me, smiling. I tried to smile back. Safety in the light, safety in the light. "Who is it?" asked a voice behind the door. "It's Mary, Miss Perkins! I have a visitor!" "Oh, who could it be?" I heard her giggle on the other end. I felt my heart race as the locks began to click, and it started to swing open, and I saw her, the woman, smiling, aged but still beautiful. Her eyes were big and blue, and her hair was flowing down behind her. She looked at me, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw recognition in them. But it was gone just as soon as it appeared. I tried to speak, but before I could, she spoke first. "Oh, Mary, who is this?" "He's Mister Crane! He said he wanted to talk to you!" She looked to Mary and back to me. "Oh! Looks like I have another suitor! Oh, Mary, what will Mr. Denny say?" Mary giggled. "I, um, am sorry, Miss Perkins, to intrude but -" She cut me off, and spoke to Mary. "Go off and play. This is adult business - can I trust you to tell the others that?" She nodded, and was about to run off before she turned to me, smiling. "You better teach me some French!" The door slammed behind her. I looked at her, expecting her expression to change. It didn't. "So, Mr. Crane, you'd like to talk, eh?" She laughed. I laughed too, nervously. "I'd love to, but, I am afraid I have some wood that needs some cutting. Help a poor widow out, would you?" ---- I chopped and I asked. She sat and answered. I was near a stump, and she on the back of her porch, in a rocking chair. I introduced myself, and she in turn. I told her my real business, although I knew that she knew that wasn't the whole truth. I don't doubt she did the same thing to me. "The boys are just fine, dear," she said, when I asked about the Clark boys. "Just taking a nap, is all." I nodded, slamming the axe into the log. It split in two. I lowered the axe and put another one on. I hadn't done this in a long time, so I was surprised to see how naturally it still came to me. We kept going back and forth, talking about mundanity, even as I knew that a man had been burnt to death not less a mile from here. I also knew, in the deepest, darkest depths of my mind and soul, that she had something to do with it. And yet I was here, talking with her, smiling, laughing. "A detective isn't a common sight around here," she said, rocking back and forth. "I'm taken all over. Here, there, everywhere." "Must have seen a lot." "Mary was asking about that." "She's such a curious girl. She wanted to fight in the war, you know. Always liked playing soldier with the boys." "Hopefully they won't be playing soldier in the future." "You fight in the war, Mr. Crane?" "Yes. Near Meuse." "My son was killed in the Argonne Forest." "I'm sorry." "It wasn't you who did it, Mr. Crane." I wondered who did. And who she blamed. "He wanted to go so badly, you see. I didn't. But it's a mother's duty to support her son, isn't it?" I looked over at her, studying. The sun was overhead and I was tired, but even so, I could see her eyes had wandered off, towards something I couldn't see. Suddenly, she shook her head, and looked over to me. "But enough about that. Tell me, Mr. Crane, how long do you think you'll be in town?" I looked over at her, biting my lips. I stabbed the axe into the wooden stump I was chopping on, and wiped away some of the sweat from my brow. "For as long as we need to find the criminals responsible for this." "Well, I do hope that you find them soon. It will frighten the children." I picked the axe back up, and put another log on top. "I hope so too." "They can say such frightening things. And sometimes I think its true....is what the Granger boy says true, Mr. Crane?" I was halfway through raising the axe before the name clicked. The axe handle almost slipped through my hands before I quickly grasped it, and I quickly looked over to her as it chopped the log in two. She was smiling. "The boy who saw the old man - that was him, wasn't it?" My fingers shook a little as my grip tightened on the lodged axe handle. The wood dug itself into my skin. "That's -- well, it's --it's confidential." She continued smiling. "I suppose so, Mr. Crane. He had just said something about it the other day to me, after a nap. He's a truthful little boy, but I wanted to see if it was true." (//SHE KNOWS SHE KNOWS//) "I just worry for the children, is all. Some of them are getting scared, on account of their parents. Children see and hear a lot of things, Mr. Crane." (//SHE KNOWS THAT I KNOW THAT SHE KNOWS//) I stood there, my back arched and the axe head still in place on the stump. She just stared at me, smiling. I knew it was her. I knew it, somehow, with dead certainty, that it was her, in spirit if not in fact, who killed those two men in cold blood. But why? Why? "Mr. Crane? Are you alright? You look a little worn for wear." I straightened my back, never taking my eyes off her. I smiled as best I could, and stumbled forward to the porch, struggling to keep the anxiety bleed into my face and body. "I just...need a moment. I haven't done this awhile." "City living must be easy, to get you tired like that so quickly." "It can be." "Washington is a strange place, Mr. Crane." I was about to agree, until I realized, I hadn't told her that. "Yes - wait, how do --" Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from inside. Perkins turned her head around, and I with her. I felt relief, at knowing that I wasn't the only other person here anymore. She got up. "That's Denny, my hand. He should be able to finish this up. Now come, come! He should have some lemonade prepared." I stared, my head dizzy, thoughts jumbled: how did she know? How could she know? Who told her? Why did she let it slip? Why did she talk to me? Why? Why? Why? My thoughts went deeper, deeper into my mind. I thought. I analyzed. I //replayed//. Every moment of every day I went through in those couple of seconds, thinking of what I could have said, what I could have done, to reveal it. Maybe it was an assumption. But she sounded so sure. How? Who? A spy. It must be a spy, of some sort. There's a mole. That had to be it. Someone was feeding her information. The children were spies too, unintentionally so. Perfect cover story: a poor widow and childless woman, taking care of children, living a peaceful quiet life. No one would suspect anything. No one. //No one.// But how could I know? I couldn't. I had no evidence. Nothing but a gut feeling. Nothing. Delusions masquerading as convictions. But it had to be her. It had to be. //But why?// Because she knows where I'm from! //Educated guess.// She asked about the Granger boy! //She probably takes care of him, and he told her.// The smile! //A nice, happy smile - is that a crime?// The thoughts went back and forth, as I sat there, until, suddenly, I felt something on my shoulder, and I felt something I could never experience again, even now, decades later, even if I wanted too. And I don't want to. Agony rushed up my shoulder and into my brain. Pressure building in my skull and my bones and nerves, all along, and I felt like I was on fire, and it hurt, hurt in a way that left you wishing, in that tiny part of your brain, you were dead. It was like my brain was pressing up against my skull and my skull my skin. My teeth were rattling inside my mouth, and I could smell the inside of my nose, feel particles on my skin, taste the roof of my tongue, feel the blood coursing through my veins and electrical nerves pulsating inside me and -- Then it went black. ------- [[<]] « [[[Burning Scarlet]]] [[/<]] [[>]] [[[???]]] » [[/>]] ----- [[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>]]	2023-03-09T22:53:00	[ "_licensebox", "asci", "tale" ]	Where There's Smoke - SCP Foundation	8	[ "burning-scarlet", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1446611236	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/where-there-s-smoke
whiskey-business	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>Whiskey Business</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><strong>By:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/corax-d" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7851860); return false;"><img alt="Corax D" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=7851860&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645217" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=7851860)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/corax-d" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(7851860); return false;">Corax D</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1686181621 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">07 Jun 2023 23:47</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/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="journal"> <p>It was supposed to be a simple job, dammit. Just a handoff of some anomalous relic for a nice payday. We should have known that the deal had gone sour before we even stepped in the door. I even mentioned that something was fishy as we were pulling up to the warehouse, but Sid just flashed that winning smile of his and told me I should know he always has a plan. Rook just let out a deep, rumbling chuckle in response. Sid nearly jumped into the backseat as he berated Rook for a few minutes before he finally calmed down and we could get to business.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Sid was decked out in his usual suit fashion, opting for a red jacket for this job. In contrast, Rook wore a simple black shirt and that broad-brimmed fedora. Like Rook, my style rarely changes from my sky-blue jacket and white pants. I’ve never been partial to suits as they restrict my movements a bit, but Sid always insists upon it.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The guard at the door had eyes on us as soon as we entered the main yard, though I’m sure Rook had noticed him back in the car–as I had. Of course, he wanted to confiscate our weapons, which Sid and Rook obliged by each handing over one of their weapons–the other hidden weapons made such a simple formality. For myself, I didn’t even need to threaten the man. A simple denial and a hard look were enough to get the man to back down. He must be new. Inside the warehouse sat dozens of crates of varying sizes, no doubt all full of anomalous artifacts of some type. In the center of the room was a large table surrounded by chairs, several of them already occupied. At the head of the table sat Donovan Reail. He was an up-and-coming dealer within the anomalous community, and his rapid success showed in his arrogance. Rook and I had already counted the half-dozen men up in the catwalks and the four in the shadows around the crates. Counting the three enforcers sitting at the table, that made thirteen goons we might have to deal with. I’d count the one at the door, but I’m certain he’ll run at the first sign of trouble.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> My mouth barely moved as I shared a few muttered words with Rook. ‘I don’t like this.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Yeah, Sid, they got mooks all over the place.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Calm down, guys. I told ya I got a plan.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Rook and I shared an all too common look as Sid butted into our concerns. My hand gripped the handle of my cane a bit harder at Sid’s swagger and assurance. Rook’s fingers were twitching but didn’t make a move toward the hidden gun under his left arm.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Donny, ol’ pal! How the hell are ya?! I don’t think we’ve seen each other since that job in Backdoor Soho!’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The look that Donovan cast Sid’s way held little more than contempt and a fraying patience that only held because of the prospect of a payday.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Yes, Inside, I remember that particular deal…intimately. As I recall, our transaction went quite smoothly! However, when the UIU showed up to bust up the scene, you three immediately ran when you saw that ‘Pops’ was leading the charge. Leaving us to deal with those zealous, underpaid idiots.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> For once, Sid’s haughty attitude faltered. A nervous cough came from him as he pulled lightly at the collar of his shirt.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Oh-ho…yes, that. Well, you know how these things go sometimes! When the feds bust down the door, it’s every man for himself!’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> As Sid was speaking, he was using his usual flare with dramatic gestures and bombastic philosophy. While it grated on me, it did always give Rook and I a chance to watch the scene while Sid did the dealing. As it was, both of us were acutely aware that the twelve goons had moved out of the shadows. And they looked ready for something.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Oh, Inside. It’s funny that you say that. Because I couldn’t agree more.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> It was always so quick when things go to shit.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Donovan had finished his statement by drawing a revolver and leveling it at Sid. At the first sight of the metal flashing in the warehouse lights, I was moving. In one fluid sequence, I was in the air, my sword already leaving the false cane scabbard. Then I was on the table in front of Sid. It was a trifling matter for me to intercept the bullet and slice it in half. I wasn’t finished, though, and in a matter of a moment, I was across the large table and kneeling in front of Donovan. In one hand, I gripped his hair and held his head back, neck fully exposed. In my other was my blade, held steadily against his throat.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Six gunshots rang out in the time it took me to protect Sid and pacify Donovan—not that I was concerned about any of them. Not a single one had come from the surrounding goons.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> A few moments later, I counted the sound of six bodies falling and slamming into the surrounding concrete. Rook had cleared out the half-dozen men on the catwalks.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> A familiar laughter rang out behind me and I was soon joined by Sid as he popped up on the conference table and took a long, exaggerated stretch before gingerly strolling down towards Donovan and I. He’d squat down next to me and grin broadly at the captive man before us.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Now, now, Donny. I know you’re miffed about Soho, but did you need to try and take us out like this? That’s just in poor taste and not becoming of upstanding criminals like us, ain’t it?’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> It was then that Sid noticed the bottle of liquor sitting next to Donovan and would make a show of surveying it.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Well, shit, would ya look at this? 160 proof? Donny, you’re really looking to have a good time, ain’t ya? OH! And it’s Dwarven fire whiskey, too!’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> With more flourish, Sid produced a handkerchief from inside his coat and poured the whiskey on it to soak it a bit. Before stuffing the bottle, he’d consider the soaking rag and the bottle for a few moments.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> 'Hang on now, this stuff is too high quality to just waste it all!'<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> With a shrug, he raised the bottle in a salute, then taking a long drink. The plume of smoke that rose from his mouth was proof that the liquor was genuine Dwarven fire whiskey.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘OOOOO! Hot damn, that’ll really get your engine running. Kami, you want some?’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Hands’re full.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Oh, yeah, right. Rook?’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Kinda making sure you don’t get put full of holes.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Well, fine, more for the pyre.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Sid’s eyes leveled with Donovan’s, and that playful smile spread back over his lips as he firmly stuffed the soaking rag into the bottle and produced a lighter. As he flicked the lighter open and closed a few times he leaned in close to the sweating, overweight gangster in my hands, and the smile faded.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Donny, I’m gonna let you live. Oh, you’re going to lose all your stock here while we’re keeping the relic and taking the money, but I’m letting you live. You wanna know why?’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Donovan swallowed so hard that his throat pressed against my blade and nicked him lightly. A small trail of blood trickled down as he weakly answered.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘I-I don’t know…’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Finally, Sid flicked on the flame and held it up to the soaked rag. It went up quickly, though Sid held the bottle as he gave one last declaration.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Because someone needs to tell everyone else not to fuck with The Chicago Spectre. The ones who will inherit Richie D.’s legacy. The One Vault is real, Donny. And I’m gonna be the one to find it.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> And just like that, the playful grin returned to Sid’s face. He popped back up to his feet, reeled back, and hurled the bottle into the stack of crates. The flames spread easily because of the Dwarven whiskey, but we were already beating a retreat before they had a chance to hop more than a couple of crates.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Sid grabbed the cash and the relic before I released Donovan and kicked his chair over with him in it. Rook began opening fire to cover our escape, which was soon returned as we neared the door.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Over the din of the gunfire I could hear Rook roaring, ‘SID, YOU SAID YOU HAD A FUCKING PLAN!’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> In his usual fashion, Sid let out a cackle as he returned a few shots of his own. ‘What’re you talking about?! <em>THIS IS THE PLAN!’</em><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> We barrelled through the door with bullets flying all around and quickly beat it to the car. It would have been suspicious to leave the engine running, but I had left the keys in the ignition in case we needed to beat this likely retreat. The engine was roaring to life as Sid and Rook hopped in and I was already redlining the engine before the doors even closed. Donny’s boy at the door had closed the chain-link fence behind us, but it was barely of note as I slammed through it, turned the wheel, and skidded us around onto the main road.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> I hadn’t driven more than a mile before Rook slapped my shoulder and shouted, ‘Hey, that’s the fucker with my gun!’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> As I thought, the kid at the door had taken off at the first sign of trouble. Although Donovan was surely a few dozen seconds behind us, I slammed on the brakes and we skidded to a halt beside the runner.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Guns. Now.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Rook simply growled at the fledgling goon and he was instantly fumbling in his pockets for Rook and Sid’s guns.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> ‘Good. Now fuck off and get a proper job, kid.’<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> With a quick flick of the doorhandle and a swing of his arm, Rook slammed the door into the kid and knocked him off the road into the muddy ditch below. With a shared laugh, we sped away down the highway and left the blaze of the warehouse behind us.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> Though, Sid took a minute to hang out the window and look back as the flames found the rest of Donovan’s liquor. I could only see the explosion in the rear-view mirror, but fuck me if it didn’t look like a job well done.</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="/whiskey-business">Whiskey Business</a>" by Corax D, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/whiskey-business">https://scpwiki.com/whiskey-business</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">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle</a>]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="journal"]] It was supposed to be a simple job, dammit. Just a handoff of some anomalous relic for a nice payday. We should have known that the deal had gone sour before we even stepped in the door. I even mentioned that something was fishy as we were pulling up to the warehouse, but Sid just flashed that winning smile of his and told me I should know he always has a plan. Rook just let out a deep, rumbling chuckle in response. Sid nearly jumped into the backseat as he berated Rook for a few minutes before he finally calmed down and we could get to business. @@ @@ Sid was decked out in his usual suit fashion, opting for a red jacket for this job. In contrast, Rook wore a simple black shirt and that broad-brimmed fedora. Like Rook, my style rarely changes from my sky-blue jacket and white pants. I’ve never been partial to suits as they restrict my movements a bit, but Sid always insists upon it. @@ @@ The guard at the door had eyes on us as soon as we entered the main yard, though I’m sure Rook had noticed him back in the car–as I had. Of course, he wanted to confiscate our weapons, which Sid and Rook obliged by each handing over one of their weapons–the other hidden weapons made such a simple formality. For myself, I didn’t even need to threaten the man. A simple denial and a hard look were enough to get the man to back down. He must be new. Inside the warehouse sat dozens of crates of varying sizes, no doubt all full of anomalous artifacts of some type. In the center of the room was a large table surrounded by chairs, several of them already occupied. At the head of the table sat Donovan Reail. He was an up-and-coming dealer within the anomalous community, and his rapid success showed in his arrogance. Rook and I had already counted the half-dozen men up in the catwalks and the four in the shadows around the crates. Counting the three enforcers sitting at the table, that made thirteen goons we might have to deal with. I’d count the one at the door, but I’m certain he’ll run at the first sign of trouble. @@ @@ My mouth barely moved as I shared a few muttered words with Rook. ‘I don’t like this.’ @@ @@ ‘Yeah, Sid, they got mooks all over the place.’ @@ @@ ‘Calm down, guys. I told ya I got a plan.’ @@ @@ Rook and I shared an all too common look as Sid butted into our concerns. My hand gripped the handle of my cane a bit harder at Sid’s swagger and assurance. Rook’s fingers were twitching but didn’t make a move toward the hidden gun under his left arm. @@ @@ ‘Donny, ol’ pal! How the hell are ya?! I don’t think we’ve seen each other since that job in Backdoor Soho!’ @@ @@ The look that Donovan cast Sid’s way held little more than contempt and a fraying patience that only held because of the prospect of a payday. @@ @@ ‘Yes, Inside, I remember that particular deal…intimately. As I recall, our transaction went quite smoothly! However, when the UIU showed up to bust up the scene, you three immediately ran when you saw that ‘Pops’ was leading the charge. Leaving us to deal with those zealous, underpaid idiots.’ @@ @@ For once, Sid’s haughty attitude faltered. A nervous cough came from him as he pulled lightly at the collar of his shirt. @@ @@ ‘Oh-ho…yes, that. Well, you know how these things go sometimes! When the feds bust down the door, it’s every man for himself!’ @@ @@ As Sid was speaking, he was using his usual flare with dramatic gestures and bombastic philosophy. While it grated on me, it did always give Rook and I a chance to watch the scene while Sid did the dealing. As it was, both of us were acutely aware that the twelve goons had moved out of the shadows. And they looked ready for something. @@ @@ ‘Oh, Inside. It’s funny that you say that. Because I couldn’t agree more.’ @@ @@ It was always so quick when things go to shit. @@ @@ Donovan had finished his statement by drawing a revolver and leveling it at Sid. At the first sight of the metal flashing in the warehouse lights, I was moving. In one fluid sequence, I was in the air, my sword already leaving the false cane scabbard. Then I was on the table in front of Sid. It was a trifling matter for me to intercept the bullet and slice it in half. I wasn’t finished, though, and in a matter of a moment, I was across the large table and kneeling in front of Donovan. In one hand, I gripped his hair and held his head back, neck fully exposed. In my other was my blade, held steadily against his throat. @@ @@ Six gunshots rang out in the time it took me to protect Sid and pacify Donovan—not that I was concerned about any of them. Not a single one had come from the surrounding goons. @@ @@ A few moments later, I counted the sound of six bodies falling and slamming into the surrounding concrete. Rook had cleared out the half-dozen men on the catwalks. @@ @@ A familiar laughter rang out behind me and I was soon joined by Sid as he popped up on the conference table and took a long, exaggerated stretch before gingerly strolling down towards Donovan and I. He’d squat down next to me and grin broadly at the captive man before us. @@ @@ ‘Now, now, Donny. I know you’re miffed about Soho, but did you need to try and take us out like this? That’s just in poor taste and not becoming of upstanding criminals like us, ain’t it?’ @@ @@ It was then that Sid noticed the bottle of liquor sitting next to Donovan and would make a show of surveying it. @@ @@ ‘Well, shit, would ya look at this? 160 proof? Donny, you’re really looking to have a good time, ain’t ya? OH! And it’s Dwarven fire whiskey, too!’ @@ @@ With more flourish, Sid produced a handkerchief from inside his coat and poured the whiskey on it to soak it a bit. Before stuffing the bottle, he’d consider the soaking rag and the bottle for a few moments. @@ @@ 'Hang on now, this stuff is too high quality to just waste it all!' @@ @@ With a shrug, he raised the bottle in a salute, then taking a long drink. The plume of smoke that rose from his mouth was proof that the liquor was genuine Dwarven fire whiskey. @@ @@ ‘OOOOO! Hot damn, that’ll really get your engine running. Kami, you want some?’ @@ @@ ‘Hands’re full.’ @@ @@ ‘Oh, yeah, right. Rook?’ @@ @@ ‘Kinda making sure you don’t get put full of holes.’ @@ @@ ‘Well, fine, more for the pyre.’ @@ @@ Sid’s eyes leveled with Donovan’s, and that playful smile spread back over his lips as he firmly stuffed the soaking rag into the bottle and produced a lighter. As he flicked the lighter open and closed a few times he leaned in close to the sweating, overweight gangster in my hands, and the smile faded. @@ @@ ‘Donny, I’m gonna let you live. Oh, you’re going to lose all your stock here while we’re keeping the relic and taking the money, but I’m letting you live. You wanna know why?’ @@ @@ Donovan swallowed so hard that his throat pressed against my blade and nicked him lightly. A small trail of blood trickled down as he weakly answered. @@ @@ ‘I-I don’t know…’ @@ @@ Finally, Sid flicked on the flame and held it up to the soaked rag. It went up quickly, though Sid held the bottle as he gave one last declaration. @@ @@ ‘Because someone needs to tell everyone else not to fuck with The Chicago Spectre. The ones who will inherit Richie D.’s legacy. The One Vault is real, Donny. And I’m gonna be the one to find it.’ @@ @@ And just like that, the playful grin returned to Sid’s face. He popped back up to his feet, reeled back, and hurled the bottle into the stack of crates. The flames spread easily because of the Dwarven whiskey, but we were already beating a retreat before they had a chance to hop more than a couple of crates. @@ @@ Sid grabbed the cash and the relic before I released Donovan and kicked his chair over with him in it. Rook began opening fire to cover our escape, which was soon returned as we neared the door. @@ @@ Over the din of the gunfire I could hear Rook roaring, ‘SID, YOU SAID YOU HAD A FUCKING PLAN!’ @@ @@ In his usual fashion, Sid let out a cackle as he returned a few shots of his own. ‘What’re you talking about?! //THIS IS THE PLAN!’// @@ @@ We barrelled through the door with bullets flying all around and quickly beat it to the car. It would have been suspicious to leave the engine running, but I had left the keys in the ignition in case we needed to beat this likely retreat. The engine was roaring to life as Sid and Rook hopped in and I was already redlining the engine before the doors even closed. Donny’s boy at the door had closed the chain-link fence behind us, but it was barely of note as I slammed through it, turned the wheel, and skidded us around onto the main road. @@ @@ I hadn’t driven more than a mile before Rook slapped my shoulder and shouted, ‘Hey, that’s the fucker with my gun!’ @@ @@ As I thought, the kid at the door had taken off at the first sign of trouble. Although Donovan was surely a few dozen seconds behind us, I slammed on the brakes and we skidded to a halt beside the runner. @@ @@ ‘Guns. Now.’ @@ @@ Rook simply growled at the fledgling goon and he was instantly fumbling in his pockets for Rook and Sid’s guns. @@ @@ ‘Good. Now fuck off and get a proper job, kid.’ @@ @@ With a quick flick of the doorhandle and a swing of his arm, Rook slammed the door into the kid and knocked him off the road into the muddy ditch below. With a shared laugh, we sped away down the highway and left the blaze of the warehouse behind us. @@ @@ Though, Sid took a minute to hang out the window and look back as the flames found the rest of Donovan’s liquor. I could only see the explosion in the rear-view mirror, but fuck me if it didn’t look like a job well done. [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Corax D]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-07T23:47:00	[ "_licensebox", "chicago-spirit", "tale" ]	Whiskey Business - SCP Foundation	13	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "chicago-spirit" ]	[]	1448324429	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/whiskey-business
who-made-you	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>Who are you really, Charles Gears?</p> </div> <div style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-made-you/Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Thumbnail</p> </div> </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 style="text-align: center;">A reimagining/character study of Dr. Gears.</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/montagueetc">▸ 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 class="meta-title"> <p>Who Made You?</p> </div> <p>Charles Orson Gears is 21 years old, the day he joins the <a href="/system:page-tags/tag/asci">American Secure Containment Initiative</a>. The year is 1875.</p> <p>Charles' tie is pressed, his suit unwrinkled, his already-thinning hair neatly combed. To look at him, one might think he hasn't been sitting in an interrogation room for the past six hours. One would be wrong.</p> <p>A man enters the room. He isn't wearing a name tag—none of his interrogators have, though this one is new. The nameless man smiles thinly as he sits.</p> <p>"You're Charles Gears, is that right?"</p> <p>"That is correct."</p> <p>"Hell of a name. And you're the assistant to Mr. Rothwell, the lawyer assigned to <a href="/scp-1037">Dr. Claddeus'</a> estate?"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>"Wonderful. Now, I'd like you to tell me about what happened last afternoon."</p> <p>"Have you not been informed?" Charles' tone is placid, nearly serene. "I have described this to two of your colleagues already. In the latter case, I believe his subordinate was writing a transcription—"</p> <p>"I've read it. And I'm not afraid to say it seems a little… fantastical."</p> <p>"I do not lie, officer."</p> <p>The nameless man smiles again, leaning forward as if sharing a private joke. Charles notes that three of his teeth are rotten.</p> <p><em>"Everybody lies, kid."</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Dr. Gears is 143 years old the day he meets Troy Lament. The year is 1997.</p> <p>Lament is young then and looks younger, all gawky limbs and nervous tics that haven't yet been smoothed out by hard-won experience. He is yet to grow into the overwhelming responsibility he will one day be made to bear. They are alike in this way, their deceptive youthfulness. Lament looms apologetically over Charles' desk, proffering a hand to shake, then retracting it when Gears makes no motion to stand.</p> <p>"It's nice to finally meet you, Doctor…" Lament trails off, suddenly uncertain if he's just been hazed. He yanks at his right cuff—his uniform is one size too small. Charles make a mental note to have him fitted for a new one. An ill-prepared assistant reflects poorly on their superior, after all.</p> <p>"Dr. Gears," he supplies.</p> <p>"Dr. Gears," Lament echoes. "Right. That's quite a memorable name you have, if you don't mind my saying. Is there a story there?"</p> <p>"<em>Geier</em> is a common German surname. My grandfather, like many immigrants, changed his name upon arriving to America. He was a clockmaker. I am told he had something of a sense of humor."</p> <p>There is a brief silence before Lament realizes that Dr. Gears' tale has ended with as little fanfare as it began.</p> <p>"That's… quite a story."</p> <p>"It is."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>You can learn a lot about someone by the questions they ask. You can learn even more by the questions they don't. These are questions that Dr. Gears has not been asked:</p> <p>Did you know what you'd find in Dr. Claddeus' estate?</p> <p>Geier may be a common surname, but was it <em>your</em> grandfather's surname?</p> <p>Who are you really, Charles Gears?</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Dr. Gears never lies. That does not mean he always tells the truth.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Charles Gears is 10 years old, the day his father first shows him the inside of the family clock. The year is 1864.</p> <p>The exterior of the clock is rather unimpressive; plain, roughly cut wood, uncarved and unadorned. It looks more like a lopsided box with a clock face slapped on it than a proper grandfather clock. But the <em>interior</em>…</p> <p>There is no pendulum inside this clock, no series of weights with which to measure the passing of days. There are, from the base of the clock to the very top, hundreds upon hundreds of intermeshed gears. They twist about in perfect geometric harmony, gold flashing upon gold, silver upon silver. Countless cogs move about its length in a perfect synchronized dance, intermingled, hands twined. The clock is reason and beauty and harmony all in one. The clock is the sky and the stars, and Charles, still so young, can no longer imagine a world without it.</p> <p>"Remember this moment," his father says. "Capture it in your mind, the feeling of it. The glory. This is the wholeness of our Unbroken God. The world, as it could be. As it <em>should</em> be." His father's hands are firm on his shoulders. The clock is beautiful. "Remember this. <em>Remember who made you.</em>"</p> <p>"Don't worry, father," he says. "I will not forget."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <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>MontagueETC'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-6462">SCP-6462</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7354">SCP-7354</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7701">SCP-7701</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7408">SCP-7408</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8200">SCP-8200</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7376">SCP-7376</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-1908">SCP-1908</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6607">SCP-6607</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8408">SCP-8408</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7009">SCP-7009</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6454">SCP-6454</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6445">SCP-⌘</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6751">SCP-6751</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-744">SCP-744</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8066">SCP-8066</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="/did-it-hurt-when-you-fell-from-heaven">Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven?</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/six-codas">Six Codas</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-betamax-suicide-note">A Betamax Suicide Note</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/dr-kondraki-cut-up-while-thinking">DR. KONDRAKI CUT UP WHILE THINKING</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/omnigenesis-and-the-law-of-blades">Omnigenesis and the Law of Blades</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="/montagueetc">etcetera, etcetera</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:montagueetc-sciptember-2022">MontagueETC's SCiPTEMBER 2022 Art</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/art:art-exchange-6759">Art Exchange 2023 \| SCP-6759</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </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="/who-made-you">Who Made You?</a>" by MontagueETC, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/who-made-you">https://scpwiki.com/who-made-you</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> Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png, Cog.png, & Cogbreak.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <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=1735052764" 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><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Derivative of:</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>Name:</strong> Cog font awesome.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Dave Gandy<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cog_font_awesome.svg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text=Who are you really, Charles Gears? ]] ===== [[div style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name=Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png \| caption=Thumbnail \| width=100% \| align=center]] [[/div]] [[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/component:toggle-sidebar-bhl">:scp-wiki:component:toggle-sidebar-bhl</a>]] [[module css]] #page-content .info-container { --link-color: rgb(var(--swatch-text-general)); } #page-content .info-container .translation_block { display: none; } #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-link, #page-content .info-container:hover .collapsible-block-link { line-height: 1.6em; } #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-folded, #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-unfolded-link { display: grid; } #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-folded .collapsible-block-link, #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-link { -webkit-mask: unset; mask: unset; background: transparent; grid-column: 1; grid-row: 1; opacity: 0; } #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-folded::before, #page-content .info-container .collapsible-block-unfolded-link::before { --wght: 800; content: "ETC"; color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Inter, Arimo, Verdana, Geneva, "Helvetica Neue", "Helvetica", Arial, sans-serif;; display: block; pointer-events: none; grid-column: 1; grid-row: 1; line-height: 2.75ex; } #page-title{ display: none; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=a-gear-unturning \|authorPage=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/montagueetc \|comments= = A reimagining/character study of Dr. Gears. ]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[div class="meta-title"]] Who Made You? [[/div]] Charles Orson Gears is 21 years old, the day he joins the [[[/system:page-tags/tag/asci \| American Secure Containment Initiative]]]. The year is 1875. Charles' tie is pressed, his suit unwrinkled, his already-thinning hair neatly combed. To look at him, one might think he hasn't been sitting in an interrogation room for the past six hours. One would be wrong. A man enters the room. He isn't wearing a name tag--none of his interrogators have, though this one is new. The nameless man smiles thinly as he sits. "You're Charles Gears, is that right?" "That is correct." "Hell of a name. And you're the assistant to Mr. Rothwell, the lawyer assigned to [[[SCP-1037 \| Dr. Claddeus']]] estate?" "Yes." "Wonderful. Now, I'd like you to tell me about what happened last afternoon." "Have you not been informed?" Charles' tone is placid, nearly serene. "I have described this to two of your colleagues already. In the latter case, I believe his subordinate was writing a transcription--" "I've read it. And I'm not afraid to say it seems a little... fantastical." "I do not lie, officer." The nameless man smiles again, leaning forward as if sharing a private joke. Charles notes that three of his teeth are rotten. //"Everybody lies, kid."// @@ @@ [[=]] [[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ Dr. Gears is 143 years old the day he meets Troy Lament. The year is 1997. Lament is young then and looks younger, all gawky limbs and nervous tics that haven't yet been smoothed out by hard-won experience. He is yet to grow into the overwhelming responsibility he will one day be made to bear. They are alike in this way, their deceptive youthfulness. Lament looms apologetically over Charles' desk, proffering a hand to shake, then retracting it when Gears makes no motion to stand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Doctor..." Lament trails off, suddenly uncertain if he's just been hazed. He yanks at his right cuff--his uniform is one size too small. Charles make a mental note to have him fitted for a new one. An ill-prepared assistant reflects poorly on their superior, after all. "Dr. Gears," he supplies. "Dr. Gears," Lament echoes. "Right. That's quite a memorable name you have, if you don't mind my saying. Is there a story there?" "//Geier// is a common German surname. My grandfather, like many immigrants, changed his name upon arriving to America. He was a clockmaker. I am told he had something of a sense of humor." There is a brief silence before Lament realizes that Dr. Gears' tale has ended with as little fanfare as it began. "That's... quite a story." "It is." @@ @@ [[=]] [[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ You can learn a lot about someone by the questions they ask. You can learn even more by the questions they don't. These are questions that Dr. Gears has not been asked: Did you know what you'd find in Dr. Claddeus' estate? Geier may be a common surname, but was it //your// grandfather's surname? Who are you really, Charles Gears? @@ @@ [[=]] [[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ Dr. Gears never lies. That does not mean he always tells the truth. @@ @@ [[=]] [[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]][[image Cog.png width="25px"]] [[/=]] @@ @@ Charles Gears is 10 years old, the day his father first shows him the inside of the family clock. The year is 1864. The exterior of the clock is rather unimpressive; plain, roughly cut wood, uncarved and unadorned. It looks more like a lopsided box with a clock face slapped on it than a proper grandfather clock. But the //interior//... There is no pendulum inside this clock, no series of weights with which to measure the passing of days. There are, from the base of the clock to the very top, hundreds upon hundreds of intermeshed gears. They twist about in perfect geometric harmony, gold flashing upon gold, silver upon silver. Countless cogs move about its length in a perfect synchronized dance, intermingled, hands twined. The clock is reason and beauty and harmony all in one. The clock is the sky and the stars, and Charles, still so young, can no longer imagine a world without it. "Remember this moment," his father says. "Capture it in your mind, the feeling of it. The glory. This is the wholeness of our Unbroken God. The world, as it could be. As it //should// be." His father's hands are firm on his shoulders. The clock is beautiful. "Remember this. //Remember who made you.//" "Don't worry, father," he says. "I will not forget." @@ @@ [[=image Cogbreak.png]] @@ @@ ----- [[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: Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png, Cog.png, & Cogbreak.png > Author: [[user MontagueETC]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Derivative of: > ----- > Name: Cog font awesome.svg > Author: Dave Gandy > License: CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cog_font_awesome.svg \| Wikimedia Commons]]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-06-13T02:32:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "agent-lament", "asci", "broken-god", "doctor-gears", "tale" ]	Who Made You? - SCP Foundation	38	[ "montagueetc", "component:info-ayers", "system:page-tags/tag/asci", "scp-1037", "scp-6462", "scp-7354", "scp-7701", "scp-7408", "scp-8200", "scp-7376", "scp-1908", "scp-6607", "scp-8408", "scp-7009", "scp-6454", "scp-6445", "scp-6751", "scp-744", "scp-8066", "did-it-hurt-when-you-fell-from-heaven", "six-codas", "a-betamax-suicide-note", "dr-kondraki-cut-up-while-thinking", "omnigenesis-and-the-law-of-blades", "art:montagueetc-sciptember-2022", "art:art-exchange-6759", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "church-of-the-broken-god-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/who-made-you/Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png" ]	1448460478	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/who-made-you
why-aren-t-you-helping	<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%3Aminimal/1&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div style="display: none"> <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">These</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">two</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">arguments</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">are</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">in</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">a</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">quirked-up</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CSS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Module</span><span class="hl-code"> (</span><span class="hl-identifier">rather</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">than</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">the</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">main</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">code</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">block</span><span class="hl-code">) </span><span class="hl-identifier">so</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">users</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">can</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">feed</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Wikidot</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">variables</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">into</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">them</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"> "Cool War </span><span class="hl-number">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">black</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-identifier">span</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"> "Ruiz From Your Grave"</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></pre></div> </div> </div> <p>It's so hard watching another live a life you yourself dream to live.</p> <p>You watch as their success grows and grows like tumors upon your skin as you are forced to sit in silence, happy to watch their smiles and the smiles of their ever-growing congregation of associates twist and beam down onto you, their eyes looking down upon you feeling burning rays of desire. You sit back and silently rage inside, boiling and seething within the confines of your self-imposed limitations. You are tortured by their growth when you know you will never reach that height of accomplishment in your own life. Your brain fills with static and want as you fail to understand why you could never hope to be half as interesting or meaningful as they.</p> <p>These feelings of worthless self-loathing crash down upon you moment after moment as if your confines are digging into your skin like rusted chains. You fail to understand why you even care to be anything other than what you are. You want to scream, to snap your chains, and finally silence the static and the desire with the same sort of crashing echoes heard from your own brain. The days blur into each other in an endless spiral downward of despair as you try and fail to become who you wish you could be.</p> <p>You attempt, in a way, to escape this prison of limitation. Trying and failing over and over and over and over again to free yourself, each time being met with yet another wave to come once again and knock you to your knees. Your body reacts in the only way it knows how; with fight or flight. You fight and you flee, trying and failing to shake yourself from the depths of despair. You slip into a state of near exhaustion and collapse onto the cold hard floor into an undignified heap.</p> <p>You are unsure as to how long you sat there, the sweat burning your eyes like needles digging their way into your flesh. Your heart beats frantically, its loud thuds and rapid pulsing like the heartbeat of a thousand already dead and dying people. It beats loudly as if attempting to break through the deafening screams of your own skull. You choke as your eyes, once so full of promise, slowly begin to fill with pools of black. Your mouth and throat are dry and burning, fighting to take in each gulp of air just as your lungs struggle to get oxygen.</p> <p>There is nothing that can quell the anger, the hate, the urge to simply just <em>give up</em>. Every action, each look, every word you speak is met with that heavy sound of static.</p> <p>You feel yourself slowly begin to turn pale and feel your pulse begin to slow. Your vision becomes hazy and your body weak. There is nothing that can help you.</p> <p>You can't feel the thudding of your own heart. It seems to have stopped as you lay on your side, eyes wide open and staring straight at the floor.</p> <p>You begin to go through the motions of your life, getting up and getting dressed and not having a clue as to why you are moving at all. Your mind begins to fuzz. The static, the desire, and the hate seem to grow at the very center of you, crowding your senses and slowly drawing you down into that dark abyss, that no light can ever reach.</p> <p>You force yourself back to your feet, tightening the chains around your flesh as you take breath after deep breath.</p> <p>There is nothing else you can do.</p> <p>You take one last look at yourself, shaking your head as if you were some desperate onlooker to your own existence. You attempt to make eye contact with yourself, trying and failing to get any sort of response as you begin to turn away.</p> <p>You are not yourself anymore.</p> <p>With the last trace of your want worn away, you become what you were always meant to be.</p> <p>You realize that your body has now become numb. You just want to let it rest and pretend that it is just another part of you and not some foreign object that has replaced who you were. The rest of you slowly slips away, coming out of the shadows and lying at your side. The voices of the one you wish to be echoing through the walls and the laughing faces of their compatriots twisting and growing ever louder. You sit for a moment, letting it all sink in.</p> <p>The chains loosen their grip.</p> <p>It is done.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-hub\|" target="_blank">You</a> are gone to the static once again.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/la-foi-de-la-paix-circa-2011\|">Mutually Artsured Destruction</a> \| <a href="/cool-war-2-hub">Hub</a> \| <a class="newpage" href="/overgang-loses-every-pair-of-glasses-but-nineteen-of-them">Overgang Loses Every Pair Of Glasses But Nineteen Of Them</a> »</strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:80%;">With thanks to BankerPaul.</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="/why-aren-t-you-helping">Why Aren't You Helping</a>" by DrGooday, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/why-aren-t-you-helping">https://scpwiki.com/why-aren-t-you-helping</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:minimal">:scp-wiki:theme:minimal</a> \|title=Cool War 2 \|subtitle=Ruiz From Your Grave]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/ theme:calibri-logos">:scp-wiki: theme:calibri-logos</a> \|inc-s9-awcy= --]]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] It's so hard watching another live a life you yourself dream to live. You watch as their success grows and grows like tumors upon your skin as you are forced to sit in silence, happy to watch their smiles and the smiles of their ever-growing congregation of associates twist and beam down onto you, their eyes looking down upon you feeling burning rays of desire. You sit back and silently rage inside, boiling and seething within the confines of your self-imposed limitations. You are tortured by their growth when you know you will never reach that height of accomplishment in your own life. Your brain fills with static and want as you fail to understand why you could never hope to be half as interesting or meaningful as they. These feelings of worthless self-loathing crash down upon you moment after moment as if your confines are digging into your skin like rusted chains. You fail to understand why you even care to be anything other than what you are. You want to scream, to snap your chains, and finally silence the static and the desire with the same sort of crashing echoes heard from your own brain. The days blur into each other in an endless spiral downward of despair as you try and fail to become who you wish you could be. You attempt, in a way, to escape this prison of limitation. Trying and failing over and over and over and over again to free yourself, each time being met with yet another wave to come once again and knock you to your knees. Your body reacts in the only way it knows how; with fight or flight. You fight and you flee, trying and failing to shake yourself from the depths of despair. You slip into a state of near exhaustion and collapse onto the cold hard floor into an undignified heap. You are unsure as to how long you sat there, the sweat burning your eyes like needles digging their way into your flesh. Your heart beats frantically, its loud thuds and rapid pulsing like the heartbeat of a thousand already dead and dying people. It beats loudly as if attempting to break through the deafening screams of your own skull. You choke as your eyes, once so full of promise, slowly begin to fill with pools of black. Your mouth and throat are dry and burning, fighting to take in each gulp of air just as your lungs struggle to get oxygen. There is nothing that can quell the anger, the hate, the urge to simply just //give up//. Every action, each look, every word you speak is met with that heavy sound of static. You feel yourself slowly begin to turn pale and feel your pulse begin to slow. Your vision becomes hazy and your body weak. There is nothing that can help you. You can't feel the thudding of your own heart. It seems to have stopped as you lay on your side, eyes wide open and staring straight at the floor. You begin to go through the motions of your life, getting up and getting dressed and not having a clue as to why you are moving at all. Your mind begins to fuzz. The static, the desire, and the hate seem to grow at the very center of you, crowding your senses and slowly drawing you down into that dark abyss, that no light can ever reach. You force yourself back to your feet, tightening the chains around your flesh as you take breath after deep breath. There is nothing else you can do. You take one last look at yourself, shaking your head as if you were some desperate onlooker to your own existence. You attempt to make eye contact with yourself, trying and failing to get any sort of response as you begin to turn away. You are not yourself anymore. With the last trace of your want worn away, you become what you were always meant to be. You realize that your body has now become numb. You just want to let it rest and pretend that it is just another part of you and not some foreign object that has replaced who you were. The rest of you slowly slips away, coming out of the shadows and lying at your side. The voices of the one you wish to be echoing through the walls and the laughing faces of their compatriots twisting and growing ever louder. You sit for a moment, letting it all sink in. The chains loosen their grip. It is done. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/nobody-hub\| You] are gone to the static once again. [[=]] << [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/la-foi-de-la-paix-circa-2011\| Mutually Artsured Destruction] \| [[[cool-war-2-hub\|Hub]]] \| [[[Overgang Loses Every Pair Of Glasses But Nineteen Of Them]]] >>* [[/=]] ----- [[size 80%]] = With thanks to BankerPaul. [[/size]] [[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>]]	2023-03-23T05:06:00	[ "_licensebox", "cool-war-2", "nobody", "tale" ]	Why Aren't You Helping - SCP Foundation	13	[ "nobody-hub%7C", "la-foi-de-la-paix-circa-2011%7C", "cool-war-2-hub", "overgang-loses-every-pair-of-glasses-but-nineteen-of-them", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023", "nobody-hub", "cool-war-2-hub" ]	[]	1446938322	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/why-aren-t-you-helping
will-winter	<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> <div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"> <p>by <a href="/ethagon-s-author-page">Ethagon</a></p> </div> <p>Alex Thorley has a letter on their desk. The Foundation doesn't use letters. Everything of note or not of note gets sent over the secure scipnet system. They open the letter.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><em>You are invited to the Winter Court</em><br/> <em>The event will be</em><br/> <em>at the hut</em></p> </div> </div> <p>Alex briefly thinks about the contents of the letter before crumbling it and discarding it in the overfilled trashcan.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Once upon a time, there was a Name.<br/> The Fool, a human name.</p> <p>One day the Fool came upon a barren land and in it, the Fool found nothing worth being.</p> <p>The Fool died alone.</p> <p>For Winter's Domain is that which is not, from commoner to throne. And nothing of value is found in nothingness.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><a href="/scp-5925">An old man with a white beard and many names</a> trudged through the snow, a fir tree under his arm. Behind him, the lifeless plane of snow animated into a blizzard.</p> <p>His destination was a hut at the edge of <a href="/they-had-names">the Winter Court</a>, barely keeping itself tethered to the real world.</p> <p>With the Father's presence, the hut brightened a bit again, kept from fading a day longer.</p> <p>His right hand holding the tree, the man grabbed the old wooden door handle with his left hand. It didn't budge. He turned to stand sideways towards the door and tried to open it again, this time with more weight behind it. The door still didn't budge but creaks emerged from it. It creaked more in the middle than it did at the side of the handle. Finally, he set down the tree, leaning it against the wooden wall of the hub. Now he pushed with both hands and his full weight against the door.</p> <p>One door hinge broke off and he stumbled inside and fell. He stood up with a groan and hauled the fir tree inside.</p> <p>When the blizzard tried to follow the Father of Winter stared at it with a stern look. The ice storm would stay outside, an impenetrable wall for anything else that lived.</p> <p>He held the door to the frame and breathed on the hinge until it froze in its old place.</p> <p>The old man sighed.</p> <p>Out of his reddish mantle, he took some apples and hung them on the tree.</p> <p>Finally, he searched in one of the hut's crates until he found wood. The old man took all logs out of the crates, carrying them with both arms, and then dropped them into the chimney with a groan.</p> <p>Then he finally set down. He sighed again.</p> <p>He heard the door creak and a child come in. The child was covered from head to toe in woollen clothes, only its fae eyes being free.</p> <p>The child walked towards the Father of Winter and gave him a matchbox. He gratefully accepted the matchbox and took out one of its matches with a blue top. <a href="/scp-649">When he struck the match, only snowflakes came out.</a></p> <p>The child giggled.</p> <p>The Father of Winter struck the match two more times before giving up. He returned the matchbox with an acted stern look.</p> <p>The child giggled more and jumped into his lap. It left its feet dangling.</p> <p>The old man stroke his white beard for a bit.</p> <p>After a while, he stretched his left hand towards the fir tree. One of the apples grew colder until it was completely frozen. While the apple was freezing small sparks appeared in the chimney. With the third spark came the fire.</p> <p>Now they waited.</p> <p>The Winter Court was a realm that lay over the world, mostly without interaction. In this hut, which was halfway in Winter the phantasmal fog native to the Court had no trouble entering the hut. At first, the windows fogged up from the inside, then the fog crawled across the floor towards the live-giving fire. The closer it got to the fire the more parts got loose from the fog and coalesced into forms. They would not leave the fog completely.</p> <p>The only discernible form grasping towards the fire now was a ghost entwined in racks of regal scarfs and robes, coloured in all the way the pale sunlight breaks at dusk. The figure's clothes were set, frozen mid-movement. Two cold dead hands warmed themselves over the fire. The figure was silent.</p> <p>The Father of Winter leaned forward.</p> <p><em>Welcome to the Hut, Holder of Twilight.</em></p> <p><em><tt>There is no one with that name. It was taken like everything else.</tt></em></p> <p>The white-bearded man winced. For a moment their being split, dozens of different faces looking through the facade before the Father of Winter reaffirmed himself.</p> <p><em>Please, call me Father of Winter. It's what I'm here as and I fear no other name will be of help to you.</em></p> <p><em><tt>Nothing can be of help.</tt></em></p> <p>Then they waited again.</p> <p>A shadow too big for the hut squeezed itself through the door. After it was through it ripped an apple from the fir tree and ventured to the fire as well. It was the shadow of a <a href="/scp-1000">Yeren</a>.</p> <p>The dead god in robes did not react.</p> <p><em><tt>The Yeren have no place in the Winter Court. The Winter Court is a resting place for the Fae, not the Yeren.</tt></em></p> <p>The shadow ignored the former god. It was plain that there was a bond of pure hard contempt between the two, fostered through millennia of hatred.</p> <p><em><tt>The Yeren have no place in the Winter Court. The Winter Court is a resting place for the Fae, not the Yeren.</tt></em></p> <p><em>Enough of that. <a href="/awakenings">Ur-An-Uum</a> entwined herself deeply into our magic during her rebellion. And while she may still be out there in the sky now, the shadow she left behind on the world is just as dead as the rest of Winter. They remember her as much as they remember you.</em></p> <p>And so they all stood and sat around the fire in what the Father of Winter would often understand as the true meaning of the season: To huddle together around a warm fire so they would not die to the cold.</p> <p>One of the columns near the chimney looked a bit like it was guarding the group if you looked at it right.</p> <p><em>I see the Pattern Warden is here.</em></p> <p>They waited a while longer, but nobody else entered the hut.</p> <p><em>It seems like Alex isn't coming. I'm sure I sent out the letter correctly. I know the Pattern Warden wanted to clear up how we stand with the Unreality situation.</em></p> <p>The hut wasn't airtight. The wind hissed through the wall and it almost sounded like a sigh.</p> <p><em>It seems like we're missing something if there is no human new to all of this. They add a bit of life to it all.</em></p> <p>The child looked at the old man for a moment. The rest showed no reaction.</p> <p><em>So be it. There are quite a few things to share. Anyone want to start?</em></p> <p>The chair the old man set on with the Child became a bit more uncomfortable after sitting for a long time.</p> <p><em>My apologies. As always this is no official court sitting for the Winter Court and there never will be. I just wanted to catch up with some old friends.</em></p> <p>The former Holder of Twilight stared at him.</p> <p><em><tt>No one here is your friend. You are not really a part of the Court, Many-Named.</tt></em></p> <p>The white-bearded man winced. For a moment their being split, dozens of different faces looking through the facade before the Father of Winter reaffirmed himself.</p> <p><em>Has anyone something to share?</em></p> <p>No one responded.</p> <p><em>Then I will start. Has anyone heard of the Summer Court?</em></p> <p>The Shadow of Ur-An-Uum slowly shook her head. The other dead god still didn't move.</p> <p><em><tt>Maybe two-hundred years ago there was. No. Nevermind.</tt></em></p> <p><em>What? This might be helpful.</em></p> <p><em><tt>I can't remember.</tt></em></p> <p>The blizzard was howling outside. The Father of Winter looked outside.</p> <p><em>Autumn said Summer is gone. Something must keep it away.</em></p> <p>No interest.</p> <p>It was cold in the hut. They all huddled a bit closer to the chimney.</p> <p><em>There must be something we can do. Can some of you reach out to Spring?</em></p> <p><em><tt>Why should we?</tt></em></p> <p><em>If the <a href="/cycle-of-seasons-hub">Cycle of Seasons</a> remains broken, everything will eventually turn to Winter.</em></p> <p><em><tt>Then that is what will happen.</tt></em></p> <p>The old man looked at the former god, sadness in his eyes. The child was still dangling its feet from the Father of Winter's lap.</p> <p><em>What about the children? Should they also fall so completely into Winter?</em></p> <p><em><tt>No, not the children.</tt></em></p> <p><em>Then we must reach out to Spring.</em></p> <p><em><tt>Why should we?</tt></em></p> <p>The Father of Winter sighed. At the second mention of Spring, there was at least a spark in the eyes of Ur-An-Uum's shadow, but nothing more. He turned his face to no one in particular.</p> <p><em>Pattern Warden, surely some of the vanished could be released? We could bring at least them to Spring.</em></p> <p>Caused by the storm outside the hut creaked. The creak sounded a bit like a growl from a certain perspective.</p> <p><em>I suppose that is it then.</em></p> <p>They waited around the fire until it had burnt down completely. Some left before the final flame, others collapsed back into the fog with the final ember going out. In the end, the old man was alone in his hut. In truth, he hadn't expected much to come out of this, just as the other times. One spark in the eyes of a long-forgotten queen's shadow would have to be enough.</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-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Secure Facility Dossier: Site-118"> <p><a href="/secure-facility-dossier-site-118">Secure Facility Dossier: Site-118</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="Cycle of Seasons"> <p><a href="/cycle-of-seasons-hub">Cycle of Seasons</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="SC-05/321-05/335: Usurpation"> <p><a href="/sc-05-321-05-335">SC-05/321-05/335: Usurpation</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="/will-winter">Will Winter?</a>" by Ethagon, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/will-winter">https://scpwiki.com/will-winter</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 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]] [[/>]] [[div style="text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; margin-top: -20px;"]] by [[[Ethagon's Author Page\| Ethagon]]] [[/div]] Alex Thorley has a letter on their desk. The Foundation doesn't use letters. Everything of note or not of note gets sent over the secure scipnet system. They open the letter. [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] //You are invited to the Winter Court// //The event will be// //at the hut// [[/=]] [[/div]] Alex briefly thinks about the contents of the letter before crumbling it and discarding it in the overfilled trashcan. @@ @@ ----- @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] Once upon a time, there was a Name. The Fool, a human name. One day the Fool came upon a barren land and in it, the Fool found nothing worth being. The Fool died alone. For Winter's Domain is that which is not, from commoner to throne. And nothing of value is found in nothingness. [[/div]] @@ @@ ---- @@ @@ [[[SCP-5925\|An old man with a white beard and many names]]] trudged through the snow, a fir tree under his arm. Behind him, the lifeless plane of snow animated into a blizzard. His destination was a hut at the edge of [[[they had names\|the Winter Court]]], barely keeping itself tethered to the real world. With the Father's presence, the hut brightened a bit again, kept from fading a day longer. His right hand holding the tree, the man grabbed the old wooden door handle with his left hand. It didn't budge. He turned to stand sideways towards the door and tried to open it again, this time with more weight behind it. The door still didn't budge but creaks emerged from it. It creaked more in the middle than it did at the side of the handle. Finally, he set down the tree, leaning it against the wooden wall of the hub. Now he pushed with both hands and his full weight against the door. One door hinge broke off and he stumbled inside and fell. He stood up with a groan and hauled the fir tree inside. When the blizzard tried to follow the Father of Winter stared at it with a stern look. The ice storm would stay outside, an impenetrable wall for anything else that lived. He held the door to the frame and breathed on the hinge until it froze in its old place. The old man sighed. Out of his reddish mantle, he took some apples and hung them on the tree. Finally, he searched in one of the hut's crates until he found wood. The old man took all logs out of the crates, carrying them with both arms, and then dropped them into the chimney with a groan. Then he finally set down. He sighed again. He heard the door creak and a child come in. The child was covered from head to toe in woollen clothes, only its fae eyes being free. The child walked towards the Father of Winter and gave him a matchbox. He gratefully accepted the matchbox and took out one of its matches with a blue top. [[[SCP-649\|When he struck the match, only snowflakes came out.]]] The child giggled. The Father of Winter struck the match two more times before giving up. He returned the matchbox with an acted stern look. The child giggled more and jumped into his lap. It left its feet dangling. The old man stroke his white beard for a bit. After a while, he stretched his left hand towards the fir tree. One of the apples grew colder until it was completely frozen. While the apple was freezing small sparks appeared in the chimney. With the third spark came the fire. Now they waited. The Winter Court was a realm that lay over the world, mostly without interaction. In this hut, which was halfway in Winter the phantasmal fog native to the Court had no trouble entering the hut. At first, the windows fogged up from the inside, then the fog crawled across the floor towards the live-giving fire. The closer it got to the fire the more parts got loose from the fog and coalesced into forms. They would not leave the fog completely. The only discernible form grasping towards the fire now was a ghost entwined in racks of regal scarfs and robes, coloured in all the way the pale sunlight breaks at dusk. The figure's clothes were set, frozen mid-movement. Two cold dead hands warmed themselves over the fire. The figure was silent. The Father of Winter leaned forward. //Welcome to the Hut, Holder of Twilight.// //{{There is no one with that name. It was taken like everything else.}}// The white-bearded man winced. For a moment their being split, dozens of different faces looking through the facade before the Father of Winter reaffirmed himself. //Please, call me Father of Winter. It's what I'm here as and I fear no other name will be of help to you.// //{{Nothing can be of help.}}// Then they waited again. A shadow too big for the hut squeezed itself through the door. After it was through it ripped an apple from the fir tree and ventured to the fire as well. It was the shadow of a [[[SCP-1000\|Yeren]]]. The dead god in robes did not react. //{{The Yeren have no place in the Winter Court. The Winter Court is a resting place for the Fae, not the Yeren.}}// The shadow ignored the former god. It was plain that there was a bond of pure hard contempt between the two, fostered through millennia of hatred. //{{The Yeren have no place in the Winter Court. The Winter Court is a resting place for the Fae, not the Yeren.}}// //Enough of that. [[[awakenings\|Ur-An-Uum]]] entwined herself deeply into our magic during her rebellion. And while she may still be out there in the sky now, the shadow she left behind on the world is just as dead as the rest of Winter. They remember her as much as they remember you.// And so they all stood and sat around the fire in what the Father of Winter would often understand as the true meaning of the season: To huddle together around a warm fire so they would not die to the cold. One of the columns near the chimney looked a bit like it was guarding the group if you looked at it right. //I see the Pattern Warden is here.// They waited a while longer, but nobody else entered the hut. //It seems like Alex isn't coming. I'm sure I sent out the letter correctly. I know the Pattern Warden wanted to clear up how we stand with the Unreality situation.// The hut wasn't airtight. The wind hissed through the wall and it almost sounded like a sigh. //It seems like we're missing something if there is no human new to all of this. They add a bit of life to it all.// The child looked at the old man for a moment. The rest showed no reaction. //So be it. There are quite a few things to share. Anyone want to start?// The chair the old man set on with the Child became a bit more uncomfortable after sitting for a long time. //My apologies. As always this is no official court sitting for the Winter Court and there never will be. I just wanted to catch up with some old friends.// The former Holder of Twilight stared at him. //{{No one here is your friend. You are not really a part of the Court, Many-Named.}}// The white-bearded man winced. For a moment their being split, dozens of different faces looking through the facade before the Father of Winter reaffirmed himself. //Has anyone something to share?// No one responded. //Then I will start. Has anyone heard of the Summer Court?// The Shadow of Ur-An-Uum slowly shook her head. The other dead god still didn't move. //{{Maybe two-hundred years ago there was. No. Nevermind.}}// //What? This might be helpful.// //{{I can't remember.}}// The blizzard was howling outside. The Father of Winter looked outside. //Autumn said Summer is gone. Something must keep it away.// No interest. It was cold in the hut. They all huddled a bit closer to the chimney. //There must be something we can do. Can some of you reach out to Spring?// //{{Why should we?}}// //If the [[[cycle-of-seasons-hub\|Cycle of Seasons]]] remains broken, everything will eventually turn to Winter.// //{{Then that is what will happen.}}// The old man looked at the former god, sadness in his eyes. The child was still dangling its feet from the Father of Winter's lap. //What about the children? Should they also fall so completely into Winter?// //{{No, not the children.}}// //Then we must reach out to Spring.// //{{Why should we?}}// The Father of Winter sighed. At the second mention of Spring, there was at least a spark in the eyes of Ur-An-Uum's shadow, but nothing more. He turned his face to no one in particular. //Pattern Warden, surely some of the vanished could be released? We could bring at least them to Spring.// Caused by the storm outside the hut creaked. The creak sounded a bit like a growl from a certain perspective. //I suppose that is it then.// They waited around the fire until it had burnt down completely. Some left before the final flame, others collapsed back into the fog with the final ember going out. In the end, the old man was alone in his hut. In truth, he hadn't expected much to come out of this, just as the other times. One spark in the eyes of a long-forgotten queen's shadow would have to be enough. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=false \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/secure-facility-dossier-site-118 \| previous-title= Secure Facility Dossier: Site-118 \| next-url=/sc-05-321-05-335 \| next-title= SC-05/321-05/335: Usurpation \| hub-url=/cycle-of-seasons-hub \| hub-title=Cycle of Seasons ]] [[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>]]	2023-01-06T22:54:00	[ "_licensebox", "alex-thorley", "bleak", "children-of-the-night", "cycle-of-seasons", "fantasy", "from-120s-archives", "homo-sapiens-sidhe", "nameless", "pattern-screamer", "tale" ]	Will Winter? - SCP Foundation	26	[ "ethagon-s-author-page", "scp-5925", "they-had-names", "scp-649", "scp-1000", "awakenings", "cycle-of-seasons-hub", "secure-facility-dossier-site-118", "sc-05-321-05-335", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "from-120-s-archives-hub", "cycle-of-seasons-hub" ]	[]	1445406507	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/will-winter
william-reinalds-wannabe-cowboy	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>The sound of music repeated a thousand times play through my headphones, while I mop the floor of a liquid I don't, and don't want to, know. Two men stood behind me, arguing over some gambling dispute, until one said something slightly meaner. The second man recommend they take it outside, and in my peripheral I see him brush his hand over his revolver. The first man agrees, and push through the door, with the second close behind. Minutes later I hear a gun fire, and something hard hit the ground. Seconds later, both men return to gambling, the first laughing about how bad of a shot the second is.</p> <p>What normally would be the highlight of a day was just another example of repetition. Those two men did it almost every day, they would argue, duel, one would die, then return to gambling like nothing happened. Just a cost of working at a Nexus. This nexus forced those to play into stereotypes and literary tropes, usually ones in the past. Since it was in Texas, cowboys were a staple of the area.</p> <p>Once I'd finish the mess caused either by an anomaly or average customers I exited the building, and walked with the street, to the county police station. Sunshine County Police station was another Foundation front, which I'd only know since I worked there. Being a janitor for the most powerful organization in the world was an interesting thing to bring up, but it could only really be brought up to people who would look at him like he was expendable.</p> <p>While I didn't mind my current life, I have always preferred it to be much more adventurous, like any one a level higher would have. If I could choose, a field agent would be my top choice.</p> <p>While I daydreamed of that impossibility I entered the "police" station.</p> <p>" 'ey William" The man in the receptionist seat said, focusing on something on his computer.</p> <p>" Hey Smith," I replied, while heading further into the facility. The first floor was technically a police station, it held all the necessary requirements, which made emergency calls easy.</p> <p>For today I needed to collect some rock, which "could hold the secret to explaining how nexuses work." Other then that tidbit, I knew little about what I was carrying, and simply took the case to the directed room.</p> <p>On my walk there, I grew a sense of unwellness, as if something was going to jump out at me at any moment. I looked behind me, and saw nothing but an empty hallway. I looked the way I was going, same lack of people. Site-83 was usually crawling with people, where was everyone? Then the lights turned off.</p> <p>The lights quickly turned back on, but now in a deep red. The emergency sound blared from a nearby intercom, while I wildly looked left and right, trying to imagine where the closest emergency shelter is. While I scrambled to think of a plan, the smell of fire crept into my nostrils. Then the sound of screams, which got ever closer every second. I heard a low growl right behind me. I don't even think of what it is, and run as fast as I can, away from the noise.</p> <p>My sprint seemed to surprise the owner of the growl, as it paused for a second. Then the sound of a four legged animal running quickly started to gain on him, until he turned the corner, slamming right into the wall when he tried to squeeze by. The surprising pain to his side pushed him to the ground, and he dropped the container he was holding. The container shattered, the fragments spread across the ground. I try and pull myself up, but a sharp pain in my leg lightninged across my body.</p> <p>I breath in and try and think of something, and look across the floor, still hearing the pounding of paws against the floor. A light shines beneath a fragment of the container, which I pull myself towards. I push off the broken container, and collect the thing I was couriering across the site. I easily hold the small crystal in my hand. It looked like a light blue diamond, and seemed to vibrate with every second. I breath in, realizing death was only seconds away, as the pounding of paws got louder and louder. I hold the crystal close, feeling safer with it in my grasp. The beast is practically atop me, its breath feels more like ashes, and it growls at me. I try and pull myself up again, or distance myself, do anything to stop the inevitable, yet I can't move any of my body. I close my eyes, brace myself for death…</p> <p>Nothing happens. The emergency alarm is no longer screaming in my ears, and the bright red light is nothing but a memory. I open my eyes. I'm in an antique of a house, in what appears to be a living room. I'm atop a rocking chair, and I see a fireplace ahead of me. I look around, and to my left, a second rocking chair is besides mine. Atop the chair is a man, jaw on the floor, eyes bulging out of his head.</p> <p>I realize that I might have just appeared near this man, and realize the danger it poses to the veil.</p> <p>"How the hell?" The man says, with the same facial expression. I stare back, and attempt to compose myself.</p> <p>"I, uh, I fell." I pause, realizing how stupid that sounds. I decide the truth sounds more like a lie, but I go for it despite that. "I, sir, don't know."</p> <p>We stare at each other for a few more moments.</p> <p>"Do you want to go out and get some beer?" The man said, already accepting a stranger popping into existence beside him.</p> <hr/> <p>I took the man up on the offer, as it seemed easier to amnesticize a drunk man then one sober. That, and the man seemed friendly enough. Now that he allowed his mind to calm a little, he was able to get a better view of the man.</p> <p>He was white, seemed to be in his early twenties. He had a stubble, one a teenager might brag about. He was also about the same size of a teen, about being average for a male. Personality wise he seemed like he took nothing less then the death of a loved one seriously, and seemed more than open to making new friends.</p> <p>Something that confused me however, was the lack of cars. Sunshine County wasn't infested by cars, a large amount of the streets weren't paved, but it didn't shun them. Everyone also looked like they walked out of a western, which was still quite normal for the area. I then thought of a question, to guarantee nothing drastic happened when the crystal… wait. Where's the crystal? I padded myself feverously, and found a hard spot in one of my pockets. I took it out, and there it was. The crystal looked the same, so I placed it back where it was.</p> <p>"So, what's your name, boy?" The man said, looking at him. The dust kicked up almost made me cough.</p> <p>"William. Reinalds. William Reinalds." I said, not expecting the question. I attempted to ask him a question in turn, but he snuck in a comment.</p> <p>"Well there William. I, am the widely renowned James Pitt." He exclaimed, doing an exaggerated bow, which made me roll my eyes. The grin James had on since they left his house only grew, as they made the final steps to entering the tavern.</p> <p>"James Pitt, I have a bit of an unusual question," I start, as I take a seat in the tavern. "Who is the president?"</p> <p>"Oh you stumped me there. I myself am not the most political, nor am I the best at keeping up with the news. I think the president is James Garfield." Pitt continued to himself, but I zoned out after he said the president, and did some math. Garfield was the 20th president, meaning 1881. I had somehow traveled back in time. My entire life is gone, I have no where to go. The foundation doesn't even exist…</p> <p>I took out the crystal and stared at it, feeling a panic attack breaking down my door and forcibly entering.</p> <p>"Oh, sorry if I was boring you. You don't seem to be from 'round here. Pretty small town, visitors aren't common." Pitt questioned, forcing me out of my head.</p> <p>I look up at him, thinking of a lie. "Yeah, I uh, heard there was gold around here."</p> <p>Pitt's grin vanished, and he looked quite upset. "Oh. sorry, but there ain't a lick of gold anywhere near this county. This town's hard to get to, sucks you wasted so much time getting here."</p> <p>I realize I should have thought of a better cover story, but I just run with it. "Well, I guess I could stay? Any work I can find around here?"</p> <p>"Well." He said, taking a swig of his beer. "Sheriff has been needing help recently, there's a nasty gang running around, but I could take some help."</p> <p>"What would the work look like?" I ask, questioning where he got the beer from.</p> <p>"There's been rumors that someone is gravediggin'' from the graveyard, since every other mornin' another grave has been dug and the bodies gone. Whoever's probably been stealing all around." He scooted closer to me. "I say we steal right back, eh?" He said, grinning. I think about my options, I have nothing on me other then the crystal and my clothes. However, I've never done fieldwork before, and I have the smallest inkling on how to use a gun. Another thought inches into my brain. I have always wanted to work in the field.</p> <p>"I'll take you up on that, Pitt. Whatcha want from me?"</p> <p>He smiled at me, and stood up. "I assume you don't have a gun, do ya." I shake my head. "Well lets get you un' then!" He said slapping my back.</p> <p>We both exit the tavern, and the sounds of bullets cause me to jump. I follow the sound with my eyes, seeing a small group entering the bank.</p> <p>"Hey, what'd I say. Nasty gang right there. Welp, nun of our business."</p> <p>"But their criminals, shouldn't we do something?"</p> <p>"The sheriff already knows. Probably dealing with them right now. Now, you want a gun right? I wanna catch that gravedigger."</p> <p>I continue to stare at the bank, seeing unusual lights in the building. I shrug, and turn around to catch up to James.</p> <p><a class="newpage" href="/currently-unreleased">Next Entry ▶</a></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="/william-reinalds-wannabe-cowboy">William Reinalds, Wannabe Cowboy</a>" by Numberzz, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/william-reinalds-wannabe-cowboy">https://scpwiki.com/william-reinalds-wannabe-cowboy</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 sound of music repeated a thousand times play through my headphones, while I mop the floor of a liquid I don't, and don't want to, know. Two men stood behind me, arguing over some gambling dispute, until one said something slightly meaner. The second man recommend they take it outside, and in my peripheral I see him brush his hand over his revolver. The first man agrees, and push through the door, with the second close behind. Minutes later I hear a gun fire, and something hard hit the ground. Seconds later, both men return to gambling, the first laughing about how bad of a shot the second is. What normally would be the highlight of a day was just another example of repetition. Those two men did it almost every day, they would argue, duel, one would die, then return to gambling like nothing happened. Just a cost of working at a Nexus. This nexus forced those to play into stereotypes and literary tropes, usually ones in the past. Since it was in Texas, cowboys were a staple of the area. Once I'd finish the mess caused either by an anomaly or average customers I exited the building, and walked with the street, to the county police station. Sunshine County Police station was another Foundation front, which I'd only know since I worked there. Being a janitor for the most powerful organization in the world was an interesting thing to bring up, but it could only really be brought up to people who would look at him like he was expendable. While I didn't mind my current life, I have always preferred it to be much more adventurous, like any one a level higher would have. If I could choose, a field agent would be my top choice. While I daydreamed of that impossibility I entered the "police" station. " 'ey William" The man in the receptionist seat said, focusing on something on his computer. " Hey Smith," I replied, while heading further into the facility. The first floor was technically a police station, it held all the necessary requirements, which made emergency calls easy. For today I needed to collect some rock, which "could hold the secret to explaining how nexuses work." Other then that tidbit, I knew little about what I was carrying, and simply took the case to the directed room. On my walk there, I grew a sense of unwellness, as if something was going to jump out at me at any moment. I looked behind me, and saw nothing but an empty hallway. I looked the way I was going, same lack of people. Site-83 was usually crawling with people, where was everyone? Then the lights turned off. The lights quickly turned back on, but now in a deep red. The emergency sound blared from a nearby intercom, while I wildly looked left and right, trying to imagine where the closest emergency shelter is. While I scrambled to think of a plan, the smell of fire crept into my nostrils. Then the sound of screams, which got ever closer every second. I heard a low growl right behind me. I don't even think of what it is, and run as fast as I can, away from the noise. My sprint seemed to surprise the owner of the growl, as it paused for a second. Then the sound of a four legged animal running quickly started to gain on him, until he turned the corner, slamming right into the wall when he tried to squeeze by. The surprising pain to his side pushed him to the ground, and he dropped the container he was holding. The container shattered, the fragments spread across the ground. I try and pull myself up, but a sharp pain in my leg lightninged across my body. I breath in and try and think of something, and look across the floor, still hearing the pounding of paws against the floor. A light shines beneath a fragment of the container, which I pull myself towards. I push off the broken container, and collect the thing I was couriering across the site. I easily hold the small crystal in my hand. It looked like a light blue diamond, and seemed to vibrate with every second. I breath in, realizing death was only seconds away, as the pounding of paws got louder and louder. I hold the crystal close, feeling safer with it in my grasp. The beast is practically atop me, its breath feels more like ashes, and it growls at me. I try and pull myself up again, or distance myself, do anything to stop the inevitable, yet I can't move any of my body. I close my eyes, brace myself for death... Nothing happens. The emergency alarm is no longer screaming in my ears, and the bright red light is nothing but a memory. I open my eyes. I'm in an antique of a house, in what appears to be a living room. I'm atop a rocking chair, and I see a fireplace ahead of me. I look around, and to my left, a second rocking chair is besides mine. Atop the chair is a man, jaw on the floor, eyes bulging out of his head. I realize that I might have just appeared near this man, and realize the danger it poses to the veil. "How the hell?" The man says, with the same facial expression. I stare back, and attempt to compose myself. "I, uh, I fell." I pause, realizing how stupid that sounds. I decide the truth sounds more like a lie, but I go for it despite that. "I, sir, don't know." We stare at each other for a few more moments. "Do you want to go out and get some beer?" The man said, already accepting a stranger popping into existence beside him. ------ I took the man up on the offer, as it seemed easier to amnesticize a drunk man then one sober. That, and the man seemed friendly enough. Now that he allowed his mind to calm a little, he was able to get a better view of the man. He was white, seemed to be in his early twenties. He had a stubble, one a teenager might brag about. He was also about the same size of a teen, about being average for a male. Personality wise he seemed like he took nothing less then the death of a loved one seriously, and seemed more than open to making new friends. Something that confused me however, was the lack of cars. Sunshine County wasn't infested by cars, a large amount of the streets weren't paved, but it didn't shun them. Everyone also looked like they walked out of a western, which was still quite normal for the area. I then thought of a question, to guarantee nothing drastic happened when the crystal... wait. Where's the crystal? I padded myself feverously, and found a hard spot in one of my pockets. I took it out, and there it was. The crystal looked the same, so I placed it back where it was. "So, what's your name, boy?" The man said, looking at him. The dust kicked up almost made me cough. "William. Reinalds. William Reinalds." I said, not expecting the question. I attempted to ask him a question in turn, but he snuck in a comment. "Well there William. I, am the widely renowned James Pitt." He exclaimed, doing an exaggerated bow, which made me roll my eyes. The grin James had on since they left his house only grew, as they made the final steps to entering the tavern. "James Pitt, I have a bit of an unusual question," I start, as I take a seat in the tavern. "Who is the president?" "Oh you stumped me there. I myself am not the most political, nor am I the best at keeping up with the news. I think the president is James Garfield." Pitt continued to himself, but I zoned out after he said the president, and did some math. Garfield was the 20th president, meaning 1881. I had somehow traveled back in time. My entire life is gone, I have no where to go. The foundation doesn't even exist... I took out the crystal and stared at it, feeling a panic attack breaking down my door and forcibly entering. "Oh, sorry if I was boring you. You don't seem to be from 'round here. Pretty small town, visitors aren't common." Pitt questioned, forcing me out of my head. I look up at him, thinking of a lie. "Yeah, I uh, heard there was gold around here." Pitt's grin vanished, and he looked quite upset. "Oh. sorry, but there ain't a lick of gold anywhere near this county. This town's hard to get to, sucks you wasted so much time getting here." I realize I should have thought of a better cover story, but I just run with it. "Well, I guess I could stay? Any work I can find around here?" "Well." He said, taking a swig of his beer. "Sheriff has been needing help recently, there's a nasty gang running around, but I could take some help." "What would the work look like?" I ask, questioning where he got the beer from. "There's been rumors that someone is gravediggin'' from the graveyard, since every other mornin' another grave has been dug and the bodies gone. Whoever's probably been stealing all around." He scooted closer to me. "I say we steal right back, eh?" He said, grinning. I think about my options, I have nothing on me other then the crystal and my clothes. However, I've never done fieldwork before, and I have the smallest inkling on how to use a gun. Another thought inches into my brain. I have always wanted to work in the field. "I'll take you up on that, Pitt. Whatcha want from me?" He smiled at me, and stood up. "I assume you don't have a gun, do ya." I shake my head. "Well lets get you un' then!" He said slapping my back. We both exit the tavern, and the sounds of bullets cause me to jump. I follow the sound with my eyes, seeing a small group entering the bank. "Hey, what'd I say. Nasty gang right there. Welp, nun of our business." "But their criminals, shouldn't we do something?" "The sheriff already knows. Probably dealing with them right now. Now, you want a gun right? I wanna catch that gravedigger." I continue to stare at the bank, seeing unusual lights in the building. I shrug, and turn around to catch up to James. [[[Currently Unreleased!\|Next Entry ▶]]] [[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>]]	2023-08-17T21:19:00	[ "_licensebox", "first-person", "tale", "western" ]	William Reinalds, Wannabe Cowboy - SCP Foundation	4	[ "currently-unreleased", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449425768	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/william-reinalds-wannabe-cowboy
willie-wettle-washed-up-while-walking	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div class="authorlink-wrapper"><a href="javascript:;">Prismal</a> <div class="authorbox"> <div class="authorcontent"> <p><a href="/prismal" target="_blank">More by Prismal</a></p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h2 id="toc0"><span>September, 2022</span></h2> <p><strong><em>The SS Swelll Guy</em>, Atlantic City, New Jersey</strong></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <p>The weather was shitty in Atlantic City. It always was, and the sea was no better. <em>The SS Swelll Guy</em> (or so the speedboat declared itself to be) was buffeted by rain and waves, as were the three seafarers onboard. It was an unpleasant day for unpleasant business, just like the Segretos liked it. One of them anyway.</p> <p>“I’m not saying I <em>like</em> cruddy weather, Jess,” claimed a far too jovial voice. “I’m just saying it’s appropriate-like, you know? Doin' crimes in the rain! Sea-crimes!”</p> <p>Jess had no idea how her blue haired partner in crime could do it, looking on the bright side in such poor circumstances. Ever since being exiled to this horrible place, Jamie had been nothing but chipper come hell or high tide. Even when they got their teeth kicked in they muddled through with a bloody smile. She herself frankly found such naiveté delusional, given the nature of their work and the nature of their situation. She rolled her eyes at her companion and tried to give them a clue.</p> <p>“The weather doesn’t matter, Jamie; if anything this makes it much harder to sail this hunk of junk! What if we hit something? What if we capsize?!”</p> <p>Jamie smiled back, their eyes laughing, right hand on their hip and left pointing in a dramatic pose.</p> <p>“Oh Jess, don’t be so <em>dramatic</em>. Look, your hair isn't even wet!”</p> <p>As the Swelll Guy muddled through the storm, a wave crested it, drenching them both.</p> <p>Jamie laughed. Jess set down the anchor, teeth clenched. God, she hated Atlantic City.</p> <p>“Let’s just get this over with so we can get out of here.”</p> <p>Jess magically fixed her hair and smoothed out her trenchcoat as she approached their 'guest': an old, ugly, balding man with a patchy beard, snot encrusted nose and a black eye. Unlike his companions, he was dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather, having apparently decided to wear a Hawaiian shirt and plaid, poorly fitting shorts.</p> <p>He was sprawled on the boat like some sort of useless, pathetic, garbage <em>thing</em>.</p> <p>The mobster moved to slap the man, before being stopped by her companion.</p> <p>“Wait, wait, wait a minute here! You did the last guy, it’s my turn!”</p> <p>Jess sighed. Handling her mafioso partner could at times be remarkably like handling a child.</p> <p>“Jamie, I don't know, last time didn’t turn out so well, you should probably just let me…”</p> <p>Jamie stared at Jess and made a face, a face filled with all the sadness and pleading of a small dog begging for food, a face not fit to be resisted by a beast, much less a mobster. A face that really said “Jesse if you don’t let me commit sea-crime on this man, I will guilt-trip you for the rest of our unnatural lives.”</p> <p>“Ugh, fine!” said Jess. “Clearly you’re much more ruthless than I thought.”</p> <p>Jamie gently shook the man, but he remained dead to the world. They shook him a bit harder, still nothing.</p> <p>Jess rolled her eyes.</p> <p>“Oh come on Jamie, slap him or something.”</p> <p>“Don't backseat!”</p> <p>Jamie slapped the man. No reaction.</p> <p>“Damn, heavy sleeper.”</p> <p>“I'll get a bucket of water.”</p> <p>“No, come on, I've got this!”</p> <p>Jamie slapped him again, hard enough to sting their hand.</p> <p>He groggily began to awaken.</p> <p>“Guess who's waking up over here?”</p> <p>“Huh-wha?” said the bleary-eyed man.</p> <p>“From where you're sitting it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is… the game was rigged from th-”</p> <p>“Jamie, are you seriously quoting <em>New Vegas</em> right now?”</p> <p>“It’s apropos!”</p> <p>Jess ran a hand through her still pristine hair, and pinched the bridge of her nose.</p> <p>“No. It isn’t,” she said quietly. “We aren’t killing him or else we’d just send the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7853">Big Guy</a> after him.”</p> <p>“We aren’t?!” exclaimed Jamie “Wha- Jess, come on, you know communication is key to success in the workplace!”</p> <p>“Jamie, come <em>on</em>, he’s <em>the guy</em> remember? He’s the guy!”</p> <p>“What are you talking about?!” despaired Jamie.</p> <p>“Where am I?” the man said, weakly.</p> <p>“Christ, Jamie, did you dip into the amnestic supply again? Okay, I got this.” Jess cleared her throat and turned towards their guest. “You’re in a lot of trouble, buddy. Lost something that didn’t belong to you."</p> <p>She gripped him by the shirt collar, slightly ripping its subpar fabric, and held his head over the edge of the boat.</p> <p>“Now, with some other palookas, you’d already be sleeping with the fishes, but the Duke’s a forgiving sort.”</p> <p>“Yeah! The Duke’s a nice guy!”</p> <p>“<em>Thank you, Jamie.</em>” said Jess between clenched teeth, then returned her attention to the struggling hungover man “You have one chance. Recover the case, bring it back to us, and you’re a free man. Fail to, or try to run?”</p> <p>Jess motioned shooting a finger gun with ensuing sound effects.</p> <p>“Capi-”</p> <p>It was at this point that the man’s shirt ripped entirely, and he fell into the water.</p> <p>“Fuck!” exclaimed Jesse, searching the waves for the man.</p> <p>“Oh! There he is!” yelled Jamie, pointing out a body quickly floating ashore. “He’s face up, I think he’s okay!”</p> <p>“Thank God.” Jess said under her breath. “Well. At least it went better than last time.“</p> <p>The storm raged on as the two mobsters stood in silence, watching the man wash ashore.</p> <p>“We’re so cool,” Jamie said.</p> <p>A large wave crested the boat, drenching them both.</p> <hr/> <p>A man wakes up on the shore. It is cold and clammy and he has a horrible pounding headache. He lost his shirt and he is drenched to the bone. His nipples are cold. He feels like shit; a familiar state of affairs. He turns away from the ocean, making him feel seasick by its mere presence. He turns away and hurls. He looks up and sees a city; it is familiar to him. He’s home, whether he likes it or not.</p> <p>“Fuck, not again,” says Dr. William Wettle, as he looks upon Atlantic City.</p> <div class="Uno"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:200%;"><span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;">Vikander-Kneed Technical Media</span></span></p> <p>PRESENTS<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:200%;"><span class="ature">a Site-333 Venture</span></span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:124%;">William Wettle</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:125%;">Vincent Bohart</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> with<br/> Jesse Arion and Jamie Laufey<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:75%;">in association with the Segreto Crime Family</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> and introducing<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:125%;">SLIMEY THE GIANT MORAY EEL</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="font-size:300%;"><span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"><span style="color: #ffffff">WASHED UP</span></span></span></p> </div> </div> <p>Wettle checked himself over. No wallet, waterlogged phone, torn shirt. How did he get here? Why? Why would he <em>ever</em> come to Atlantic City? He had no memory of these things, save vague impressions. Images whirled through his mind: Site-22, a casino, a briefcase, Vincent Bohart. None of it lining up right. Well, nothing for it, Vincent would have the answers, and a line to Site-43. There was no point in putting it off; it was the last place Wettle wanted to be after all, and so surely where he would have to go. Just his luck.</p> <p>He made to stand up and the world spun. He must have really had some night to get blackout drunk like that. Well, he'd had the right idea. Anything bringing him here was worth forgetting.</p> <p>He stumbled his way towards Atlantic City. Towards Site-333, his old haunting grounds.</p> <hr/> <p>Unfortunately, upon his arrival at the Site, he reached his first hurdle: Tony Catalano, gatekeeper of the gift shop.</p> <p>"Tony, for fuck's sake, you <em>know</em> me, we worked together!"</p> <p>Tony looked him up down, turning his nose up.</p> <p>"I don't think so, sir." he said. "Now, we may have a pretty liberal policy re: shirts and shoes, but, if you're not going to buy anything, I'll have to ask that you move on."</p> <p>"My wallet's been stolen!" lamented the smelly scientist. "Come on, you know me! Wettle, William Wettle! Call Vinnie, get him down here."</p> <p>Tony sniffed.</p> <p>"Can't say I know anybody by that name."</p> <p>Wettle could only tug his sparse hair in protest. What the hell did… oh.</p> <p>Wettle sighed.</p> <p>"It's Willie."</p> <p>Tony perked up.</p> <p>"What's that?"</p> <p>"It's Willie, Wet Willie."</p> <p>Tony let out a weaselly laugh.</p> <p>"Well you should have just said so! I didn't recognize you in your… outfit." He laughed, tossing him an 'I heart Atlantic City' t-shirt. "And put a shirt on, you filthy animal!" he said, ushering Wettle to the Site offices.</p> <p>As he went on his way, he caught a glance of Tony reflexively noting down a debt of $40 dollars from Site-43 for the shirt, along with other fanciful expenses Wettle had had nothing to do with. Some things never changed. Many Foundation Sites paid their employees well, exorbitantly so in some cases, something about them being the 'best of the best of the best', paying for secrecy, all that.</p> <p>At Site-333, employees were lucky not to leave in debt. Not that Site-333 employees ever <em>left</em>. Not really. Once the Foundation had you, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6630/offset/1">they never let you go</a>; even the incompetents they sent to Atlantic City. You could always transfer out, to another Department, to another Site, but 333 wasn't exactly the cream of the crop. The only person he'd heard of getting out of 333 in recent memory was himself, and that's because William Wettle was a fucking maestro at replication studies; he certainly couldn't think of any other reason he'd been able to transfer to 43.</p> <p>He hoped to find himself back to Site-43, back to Canada, soon, rather than this smelly, dingy, rented office space. The place looked worse off then it did when he started working there, if that was even possible. Boxes of files and miscellaneous objects littered the hallway, making movement difficult. Were it not for the thin layer of dust and the stains lining the carpet, one might think these were new tenants. And the less said about the bathroom the better. No, this was the decor of the hopeless, of those frightened of setting down roots lest they be ripped away, of those who asked "why bother?"</p> <p>It'd happened before after all. Twice, famously so. First the amusement park, then the diner. Surely one would follow after this one as well. Peugh, someone could definitely stand to apply some Febreeze though, surely that wasn't too much to ask.</p> <p>Wettle gagged as the smell overpowered him. This was worse than any scent Willie had smelled, worse than the time he’d been trapped in an outhouse as a child, worse than the time he’d tried VKTM smell-o-vision technology. The smell worsened as he approached the office of Vincent Bohart, Director of Site-333.</p> <p>He knocked on the office door before barging in to find the man eating the most foul smelling fish he'd ever experienced as he looked over pictures of extravagant toilets.</p> <p>“Willie? Wet Willie? As I live and breathe! Come here buddy!”</p> <p>Before he knew it, William Wettle was wrapped in the tree trunk like limbs of his former coworker, smelling his fishy breath up close and personal.</p> <p>“Hello, Vincent.” he said, dripping with as much sarcasm and loathing as humanly possible. The other man either did not notice, or pretended not to.</p> <p>“What are you doing here?! Our meeting at 22 make you nostalgic for the old place? You finally decide to come home from moose country? The Canadians decide they don’t want you anymore, eh? Eh? Eh?”</p> <p>Wettle ignored the fake Canadian accent and suggestion of a joke.</p> <p>"Actually… I'm not sure why I'm here," said Wettle, "I kind of just… <em>washed up</em> here."</p> <p>"That bad huh?" laughed Vincent. "I certainly can't blame you with how bad I beat you at cards last night at 22."</p> <p>"I don't remember that at all."</p> <p>"Ha! Mission success then, huh?"</p> <p>"Guess so." Wettle hesitated, feeling the need to ask "Hey, it's silly, but do you know anything about a briefcase by any chance?"</p> <p>"Your briefcase!" exclaimed Bohart. "Of course, of course. Is that what you're after? Well you lost it to me fair and square. As my good friend Randall House always says, 'The Bohart Always Wins'! haha. No refunds."</p> <p>Director House had likely never said this, but Site-333 employees wouldn't be wrong to. Vincent was a perpetual gambler and cheat, maybe even an addict, but he was damn good at it. Compared to the rubes at 333, anyway; he couldn't have been <em>that</em> good for how deep in gambling debt Vince always was. When Wettle'd been there, Vince used to always clean up at the weekly poker tournaments, screwing the crew out of their meager wages - Wettle most of all - only to lose it all at the casino the next day.</p> <p>Wettle didn't gamble or play games of chance; he was a perpetual loser, sometimes he even felt like <em>the</em> Loser. His brand of luck didn’t play well with them, so he avoided playing, unless he was <em>really</em> hating himself. He hadn’t been a consistent gambler since… well, since he worked at Site-333. Apparently he'd been having quite the night to resort to such a thing. His thrumming headache could attest to that much.</p> <p>"Any chance I could get that back?" Wettle asked weakly. "For old times' sake?"</p> <p>“Well, now, I wouldn't do that for just anybody. But, well, for a <em>friend</em> I just might.”</p> <p>"So you'll give it to me?" Wettle asked, hopeful despite himself.</p> <p>“I don’t know, Willie; are you my friend?”</p> <p>God no, absolutely not, no way in Hell would anybody willingly be this loser's friend.</p> <p>“Yes.” Wettle said tersely, teeth grit.</p> <p>“<em>Really?</em> You don’t sound like you mean it."</p> <p>“I’m your friend.”</p> <p>“I can’t hear you!”</p> <p>“I’m your friend!”</p> <p>“My <em>best</em> friend?”</p> <p>Wettle sighed.</p> <p>“Sure, your best friend.”</p> <p>Vincent grinned like the cat that caught the canary, and Wettle knew he had fucked up.</p> <p>“<em>Well,</em> Wettle, if we’re <em>such</em> good <em>friends,</em> then you shouldn’t mind doing me a favor, hm?”</p> <p>This couldn’t be good.</p> <hr/> <p>Wettle, still hungover and sick to his stomach, entered the Brutus along with Vincent. How he got roped into this, he had no idea. Surely he didn't need the suitcase in question that badly? He barely remembered the thing, and he'd been willing to gamble it away, it couldn't be <em>that</em> important, right? Surely his past self wouldn't have done anything so stupid? Well, this <em>was</em> Wettle, apparently a drunk one too, so it could have been the holy grail and he'd still probably have frittered it away.</p> <p>Vincent asked him this one favor first, then he'd get the suitcase back, call Site-43, get travel arrangements set for the way home and be back in time for dinner. What could go wrong?</p> <p>Except he was in a casino with Vince Bohart, in Atlantic City; <em>anything</em> could go wrong. He was expected to <em>gamble,</em> too.</p> <p>“Uh, Vincent, I’m still not so sure this is a good idea,” said Wettle “I’m not, ah, very good at poker.”</p> <p>“It’ll be fine Willie, it’ll be <em>fine</em>. I’ve got it all planned out, you see? You don’t have to win, we just have to make the <em>others</em> lose so <em>I</em> can win.”</p> <p>"Okay?"</p> <p>"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Willie. You're my good luck charm! Just sit near me so I can rub your head."</p> <p>Vincent noogied him, a sign of things to come.</p> <hr/> <p>An hour later, two men were getting booted out of the casino and barred from future entry.</p> <p>“Damn it, I was sure that would work.” said Vincent Bohart, the would-be mastermind, standing up and stretching his aching back.</p> <p>“How was that even supposed to work, Vincent?” asked Wettle. “You <em>know</em> how bad I am at cards.”</p> <p>“Ha, I sure do, flushed you out of your paycheck more than enough times in our day. That was <em>part</em> of the plan."</p> <p>“But how-” Wettle began to ask, before deciding he didn't really want to know the inner-workings of a Sokolsky wannabe with an IQ of 50. “Fuck it, drinks are on you, let’s go to the Rusty Cow.”</p> <p>“Aw Wettle you old softie, you still remember that place?”</p> <p>No shit he did; he’d wiled the nights away more than a few times there with the guys from the Site, on nights where he really should have gone home to Rita. Seeing all those Site-333 lifers, night after night with no-one to go home to; well, it’s where he'd really learned the meaning of rock bottom. Where he'd decided he’d be better, do better.</p> <p>Look how that’d turned out, eh?</p> <p>He did make it to Forty-Three, to Canada. A new place, new people, a new start. Where the genius of William Wettle might finally be appreciated.</p> <p>But it wasn’t to be, Wet Willie would always remain who he was inside. Like a little piece of Atlantic City had been lodged within from birth.</p> <p>Hell, maybe he’d been praying to the same thing that’d caused that Rapture Event all those years ago, that wouldn’t be too farfetched. Dr. William Wettle, patron saint of Atlantic City. He’d heard odder.</p> <hr/> <p>The Rusty Cow stank worse than the Site. Like hopelessness and regret, and stories best left forgotten. Vincent ordered two drinks from the bartender, they were vaguely brown and smelled of paint thinner, the men both downed them, Wettle’s headache let up some.</p> <p>“Just like old times, eh Willie?”</p> <p>It was. Being pulled in the undertow of Site-333 and its staff’s schemes, failure ensuing, winding up at the bar, waking up hungover to do it all over again; it <em>was</em> just like old times. Like a puzzle piece that fits in perfectly, like coming home. But it was an ugly picture, a broken home. Wettle was in replication studies, he knew the pattern, couldn’t let himself get caught in it again, lest he remain stuck. Just one more drink.</p> <p>“Just one more drink.” Wettle said, as if voicing it would make it so.</p> <p>“That’s the spirit, Willie.” cheered Vincent, ordering another round, “Always one more.”</p> <p>Wettle drank in the surroundings as the liquid burned down his throat. The bar hadn’t changed in the past two decades, either. Same bartender, same decor; he even recognized some of the patrons. Worse for wear of course, but not unrecognizable. There was Lonely Susan, Small Jack, even Bob the Plumber and…</p> <p>Wettle felt a pang in his head at the sight of a stranger. Wettle glanced at them again, like an idiot, and he was feeling as he had when he first washed up there this morning.</p> <p><em>Exactly</em> the same sort of pain. Hm, was it really due to the…</p> <p>Wettle glanced over again, the vague silhouette looked right at him. He elbowed Vincent, and nudged unsubtly in their direction. Vincent’s eyes widened.</p> <p>“Oh, shit; Segretos,” he whispered under his breath.</p> <p>“<em>Segretos?!</em>”</p> <p>“Shhhh” loudly motioned Bohart. “Not so loud, I don’t think they've noticed us yet. Act natural, let's step out the back.”</p> <p>Wettle downed the rest of the oily substance and the two drunks stumbled their way towards the side door.</p> <p>The Segretos. Wettle knew of them, of course, everybody at 333 did. Couldn’t so much as jaywalk in Jersey without their say so, and they were as influential behind the Veil as outside of it. You crossed them, and you didn’t just disappear; it was like you were never born. Truer successors to the Chicago Spirit there may not be.</p> <p>And so it was damn distressing that Vincent <em>recognized</em> one. Sure it was possible Bohart was assigned to an anomaly or investigation concerning them; hell, he was the Site Director, he’d know about that anyway. Any other Site, any other city, any other man would deserve the benefit of the doubt. But this was Site-333, Wettle knew how things worked here.</p> <p>“How much do you owe them, Vincent?” he asked, as they quickly turned a corner down an alleyway.</p> <p>“Are you implying I’d associate myself with an enemy GoI, Willie?” Bohart said, side-eyeing him.</p> <p>“Don’t bullshit me, Bohart, not when you got me roped into this.”</p> <p>“Damn it Wettle, if you’d just <em>followed the plan,</em> I’d have it all <em>back</em> by now.”</p> <p>“What <em>‘plan’?</em>” hissed Wettle. “The one that failed miserably? <em>That</em> plan?”</p> <p>They turned another corner.</p> <p>"Will you quit criticizing me and focus on where we're going?"</p> <p>"I was following you!"</p> <p>"Oh, so <em>now</em> you follow my directions," said Vincent, rolling his eyes.</p> <p>"You <em>live</em> here, you piece—"</p> <p>Suddenly Wettle felt cool metal on his back, and was interrupted by a suave feminine voice.</p> <p>"The only piece you need to worry about, dear doctor, is the one to your back."</p> <div class="Uno"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="font-size:200%;"><span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;">WILL WILLIE WETTLE GET SHOT IN HIS STUPID FACE?</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:200%;"><span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;">WILL VINCENT BOHART'S GAMBLING DEBT WIN HIM A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH?</span></span></p> <p><span style="font-size:200%;"><span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;">WILL THE PAIN EVER END?</span></span></p> <p>Find out next time! Same Wet-time, Same Wet-channel!</p> <p>on</p> <p><span style="font-size:300%;"><span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"><span style="color: #ffffff">WASHED UP</span></span></span></p> </div> </div> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <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>Prime Girl'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-6458">SCP-6458</a> <em>(+41)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-227-fr">SCP-227-FR</a> <em>(+11)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7195">SCP-7195</a> <em>(+247)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6361">SCP-6361</a> <em>(+51)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6569">SCP-6569</a> <em>(+25)</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="/fae-myths-and-legends">Fae Myths and Legends</a> <em>(+47)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/siggy-and-the-slumbering-woods">Siggy and the Slumbering Woods</a> <em>(+45)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/the-blank-page">The Blank Page</a> <em>(+42)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/capitalism-a-love-story">Capitalism, A love story</a> <em>(+14)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/siggy-and-the-forgotten-kingdom">Siggy and the Forgotten Kingdom</a> <em>(+28)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight">OpusConfidant April 1st 2023 Spotlight</a> <em>(+65)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/9-to-5">9 to 5</a> <em>(+31)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/acopalypse">aCOPalypse</a> <em>(+56)</em> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> <tr> <th class="titlecolumn">Other</th> <th class="articlecolumn"></th> </tr> </table> </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: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]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Playfair+Display:ital,wght@0,900;1,900&display=swap'); 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} .custom2 .wiki-content-table { width: 100%; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> start=-- \|name=Prismal \|center=]] [/prismal More by Prismal] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:author-label-source">:scp-wiki:component:author-label-source</a> end=--]] [[/=]] [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] ++ September, 2022 //The SS Swelll Guy//, Atlantic City, New Jersey* [[/=]] [[/div]] ------ The weather was shitty in Atlantic City. It always was, and the sea was no better. //The SS Swelll Guy// (or so the speedboat declared itself to be) was buffeted by rain and waves, as were the three seafarers onboard. It was an unpleasant day for unpleasant business, just like the Segretos liked it. One of them anyway. “I’m not saying I //like// cruddy weather, Jess,” claimed a far too jovial voice. “I’m just saying it’s appropriate-like, you know? Doin' crimes in the rain! Sea-crimes!” Jess had no idea how her blue haired partner in crime could do it, looking on the bright side in such poor circumstances. Ever since being exiled to this horrible place, Jamie had been nothing but chipper come hell or high tide. Even when they got their teeth kicked in they muddled through with a bloody smile. She herself frankly found such naiveté delusional, given the nature of their work and the nature of their situation. She rolled her eyes at her companion and tried to give them a clue. “The weather doesn’t matter, Jamie; if anything this makes it much harder to sail this hunk of junk! What if we hit something? What if we capsize?!” Jamie smiled back, their eyes laughing, right hand on their hip and left pointing in a dramatic pose. “Oh Jess, don’t be so //dramatic//. Look, your hair isn't even wet!” As the Swelll Guy muddled through the storm, a wave crested it, drenching them both. Jamie laughed. Jess set down the anchor, teeth clenched. God, she hated Atlantic City. “Let’s just get this over with so we can get out of here.” Jess magically fixed her hair and smoothed out her trenchcoat as she approached their 'guest': an old, ugly, balding man with a patchy beard, snot encrusted nose and a black eye. Unlike his companions, he was dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather, having apparently decided to wear a Hawaiian shirt and plaid, poorly fitting shorts. He was sprawled on the boat like some sort of useless, pathetic, garbage //thing//. The mobster moved to slap the man, before being stopped by her companion. “Wait, wait, wait a minute here! You did the last guy, it’s my turn!” Jess sighed. Handling her mafioso partner could at times be remarkably like handling a child. “Jamie, I don't know, last time didn’t turn out so well, you should probably just let me…” Jamie stared at Jess and made a face, a face filled with all the sadness and pleading of a small dog begging for food, a face not fit to be resisted by a beast, much less a mobster. A face that really said “Jesse if you don’t let me commit sea-crime on this man, I will guilt-trip you for the rest of our unnatural lives.” “Ugh, fine!” said Jess. “Clearly you’re much more ruthless than I thought.” Jamie gently shook the man, but he remained dead to the world. They shook him a bit harder, still nothing. Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh come on Jamie, slap him or something.” “Don't backseat!” Jamie slapped the man. No reaction. “Damn, heavy sleeper.” “I'll get a bucket of water.” “No, come on, I've got this!” Jamie slapped him again, hard enough to sting their hand. He groggily began to awaken. “Guess who's waking up over here?” “Huh-wha?” said the bleary-eyed man. “From where you're sitting it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is... the game was rigged from th-” “Jamie, are you seriously quoting //New Vegas// right now?” “It’s apropos!” Jess ran a hand through her still pristine hair, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. It isn’t,” she said quietly. “We aren’t killing him or else we’d just send the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7853 Big Guy] after him.” “We aren’t?!” exclaimed Jamie “Wha- Jess, come on, you know communication is key to success in the workplace!” “Jamie, come //on//, he’s //the guy// remember? He’s the guy!” “What are you talking about?!” despaired Jamie. “Where am I?” the man said, weakly. “Christ, Jamie, did you dip into the amnestic supply again? Okay, I got this.” Jess cleared her throat and turned towards their guest. “You’re in a lot of trouble, buddy. Lost something that didn’t belong to you." She gripped him by the shirt collar, slightly ripping its subpar fabric, and held his head over the edge of the boat. “Now, with some other palookas, you’d already be sleeping with the fishes, but the Duke’s a forgiving sort.” “Yeah! The Duke’s a nice guy!” “//Thank you, Jamie.//” said Jess between clenched teeth, then returned her attention to the struggling hungover man “You have one chance. Recover the case, bring it back to us, and you’re a free man. Fail to, or try to run?” Jess motioned shooting a finger gun with ensuing sound effects. “Capi-” It was at this point that the man’s shirt ripped entirely, and he fell into the water. “Fuck!” exclaimed Jesse, searching the waves for the man. “Oh! There he is!” yelled Jamie, pointing out a body quickly floating ashore. “He’s face up, I think he’s okay!” “Thank God.” Jess said under her breath. “Well. At least it went better than last time.“ The storm raged on as the two mobsters stood in silence, watching the man wash ashore. “We’re so cool,” Jamie said. A large wave crested the boat, drenching them both. ------ A man wakes up on the shore. It is cold and clammy and he has a horrible pounding headache. He lost his shirt and he is drenched to the bone. His nipples are cold. He feels like shit; a familiar state of affairs. He turns away from the ocean, making him feel seasick by its mere presence. He turns away and hurls. He looks up and sees a city; it is familiar to him. He’s home, whether he likes it or not. “Fuck, not again,” says Dr. William Wettle, as he looks upon Atlantic City. [[module CSS]] .Uno { background-image: url("https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2c/Atlantic_City%2C_aerial_view.jpg/800px-Atlantic_City%2C_aerial_view.jpg?20080406191410"); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: top center; background-attachment: fixed; background-size: contain; color: #feff00; font-size: 15px; padding: 15px; text-shadow: rgb(0, 0, 0) 3px 0px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 2.83487px 0.981584px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 2.35766px 1.85511px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 1.62091px 2.52441px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 0.705713px 2.91581px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -0.287171px 2.98622px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -1.24844px 2.72789px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -2.07227px 2.16926px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -2.66798px 1.37182px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -2.96998px 0.42336px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -2.94502px -0.571704px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -2.59586px -1.50383px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -1.96093px -2.27041px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -1.11013px -2.78704px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) -0.137119px -2.99686px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 0.850987px -2.87677px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 1.74541px -2.43999px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 2.44769px -1.73459px 0px, rgb(0, 0, 0) 2.88051px -0.838247px 0px; } @media only screen and (max-width: 700px) { .Uno { background-image: url("http://smlt.wikidot.com/local--files/cassandra-prime:washed-up-episode-1/Atlantic-city-crop"); background-position: center center; } [[/module]] [[div class="Uno"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[size 200%]] [[span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"]]Vikander-Kneed Technical Media[[/span]] [[/size]] [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/groups-of-interest/vktmlogo.png width="96px"]] PRESENTS @@ @@ @@ @@ [[size 200%]][[span class="ature"]]a Site-333 Venture[[/span]][[/size]] [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/secure-facilities-locations/Site-333.svg width="128px"]] @@ @@ @@ @@ [[size 124%]]William Wettle[[/size]] @@ @@ [[size 125%]]Vincent Bohart[[/size]] @@ @@ with Jesse Arion and Jamie Laufey @@ @@ [[size 75%]]in association with the Segreto Crime Family[[/size]] @@ @@ and introducing @@ @@ [[size 125%]]SLIMEY THE GIANT MORAY EEL[[/size]] @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[size 300%]] [[span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"]]##FFFFFF\|WASHED UP##[[/span]] [[/size]] [[/=]] [[/div]] Wettle checked himself over. No wallet, waterlogged phone, torn shirt. How did he get here? Why? Why would he //ever// come to Atlantic City? He had no memory of these things, save vague impressions. Images whirled through his mind: Site-22, a casino, a briefcase, Vincent Bohart. None of it lining up right. Well, nothing for it, Vincent would have the answers, and a line to Site-43. There was no point in putting it off; it was the last place Wettle wanted to be after all, and so surely where he would have to go. Just his luck. He made to stand up and the world spun. He must have really had some night to get blackout drunk like that. Well, he'd had the right idea. Anything bringing him here was worth forgetting. He stumbled his way towards Atlantic City. Towards Site-333, his old haunting grounds. ----- Unfortunately, upon his arrival at the Site, he reached his first hurdle: Tony Catalano, gatekeeper of the gift shop. "Tony, for fuck's sake, you //know// me, we worked together!" Tony looked him up down, turning his nose up. "I don't think so, sir." he said. "Now, we may have a pretty liberal policy re: shirts and shoes, but, if you're not going to buy anything, I'll have to ask that you move on." "My wallet's been stolen!" lamented the smelly scientist. "Come on, you know me! Wettle, William Wettle! Call Vinnie, get him down here." Tony sniffed. "Can't say I know anybody by that name." Wettle could only tug his sparse hair in protest. What the hell did... oh. Wettle sighed. "It's Willie." Tony perked up. "What's that?" "It's Willie, Wet Willie." Tony let out a weaselly laugh. "Well you should have just said so! I didn't recognize you in your... outfit." He laughed, tossing him an 'I heart Atlantic City' t-shirt. "And put a shirt on, you filthy animal!" he said, ushering Wettle to the Site offices. As he went on his way, he caught a glance of Tony reflexively noting down a debt of $40 dollars from Site-43 for the shirt, along with other fanciful expenses Wettle had had nothing to do with. Some things never changed. Many Foundation Sites paid their employees well, exorbitantly so in some cases, something about them being the 'best of the best of the best', paying for secrecy, all that. At Site-333, employees were lucky not to leave in debt. Not that Site-333 employees ever //left//. Not really. Once the Foundation had you, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6630/offset/1 they never let you go]; even the incompetents they sent to Atlantic City. You could always transfer out, to another Department, to another Site, but 333 wasn't exactly the cream of the crop. The only person he'd heard of getting out of 333 in recent memory was himself, and that's because William Wettle was a fucking maestro at replication studies; he certainly couldn't think of any other reason he'd been able to transfer to 43. He hoped to find himself back to Site-43, back to Canada, soon, rather than this smelly, dingy, rented office space. The place looked worse off then it did when he started working there, if that was even possible. Boxes of files and miscellaneous objects littered the hallway, making movement difficult. Were it not for the thin layer of dust and the stains lining the carpet, one might think these were new tenants. And the less said about the bathroom the better. No, this was the decor of the hopeless, of those frightened of setting down roots lest they be ripped away, of those who asked "why bother?" It'd happened before after all. Twice, famously so. First the amusement park, then the diner. Surely one would follow after this one as well. Peugh, someone could definitely stand to apply some Febreeze though, surely that wasn't too much to ask. Wettle gagged as the smell overpowered him. This was worse than any scent Willie had smelled, worse than the time he’d been trapped in an outhouse as a child, worse than the time he’d tried VKTM smell-o-vision technology. The smell worsened as he approached the office of Vincent Bohart, Director of Site-333. He knocked on the office door before barging in to find the man eating the most foul smelling fish he'd ever experienced as he looked over pictures of extravagant toilets. “Willie? Wet Willie? As I live and breathe! Come here buddy!” Before he knew it, William Wettle was wrapped in the tree trunk like limbs of his former coworker, smelling his fishy breath up close and personal. “Hello, Vincent.” he said, dripping with as much sarcasm and loathing as humanly possible. The other man either did not notice, or pretended not to. “What are you doing here?! Our meeting at 22 make you nostalgic for the old place? You finally decide to come home from moose country? The Canadians decide they don’t want you anymore, eh? Eh? Eh?” Wettle ignored the fake Canadian accent and suggestion of a joke. "Actually... I'm not sure why I'm here," said Wettle, "I kind of just... //washed up// here." "That bad huh?" laughed Vincent. "I certainly can't blame you with how bad I beat you at cards last night at 22." "I don't remember that at all." "Ha! Mission success then, huh?" "Guess so." Wettle hesitated, feeling the need to ask "Hey, it's silly, but do you know anything about a briefcase by any chance?" "Your briefcase!" exclaimed Bohart. "Of course, of course. Is that what you're after? Well you lost it to me fair and square. As my good friend Randall House always says, 'The Bohart Always Wins'! haha. No refunds." Director House had likely never said this, but Site-333 employees wouldn't be wrong to. Vincent was a perpetual gambler and cheat, maybe even an addict, but he was damn good at it. Compared to the rubes at 333, anyway; he couldn't have been //that// good for how deep in gambling debt Vince always was. When Wettle'd been there, Vince used to always clean up at the weekly poker tournaments, screwing the crew out of their meager wages - Wettle most of all - only to lose it all at the casino the next day. Wettle didn't gamble or play games of chance; he was a perpetual loser, sometimes he even felt like //the// Loser. His brand of luck didn’t play well with them, so he avoided playing, unless he was //really// hating himself. He hadn’t been a consistent gambler since… well, since he worked at Site-333. Apparently he'd been having quite the night to resort to such a thing. His thrumming headache could attest to that much. "Any chance I could get that back?" Wettle asked weakly. "For old times' sake?" “Well, now, I wouldn't do that for just anybody. But, well, for a //friend// I just might.” "So you'll give it to me?" Wettle asked, hopeful despite himself. “I don’t know, Willie; are you my friend?” God no, absolutely not, no way in Hell would anybody willingly be this loser's friend. “Yes.” Wettle said tersely, teeth grit. “//Really?// You don’t sound like you mean it." “I’m your friend.” “I can’t hear you!” “I’m your friend!” “My //best// friend?” Wettle sighed. “Sure, your best friend.” Vincent grinned like the cat that caught the canary, and Wettle knew he had fucked up. “//Well,// Wettle, if we’re //such// good //friends,// then you shouldn’t mind doing me a favor, hm?” This couldn’t be good. ----- Wettle, still hungover and sick to his stomach, entered the Brutus along with Vincent. How he got roped into this, he had no idea. Surely he didn't need the suitcase in question that badly? He barely remembered the thing, and he'd been willing to gamble it away, it couldn't be //that// important, right? Surely his past self wouldn't have done anything so stupid? Well, this //was// Wettle, apparently a drunk one too, so it could have been the holy grail and he'd still probably have frittered it away. Vincent asked him this one favor first, then he'd get the suitcase back, call Site-43, get travel arrangements set for the way home and be back in time for dinner. What could go wrong? Except he was in a casino with Vince Bohart, in Atlantic City; //anything// could go wrong. He was expected to //gamble,// too. “Uh, Vincent, I’m still not so sure this is a good idea,” said Wettle “I’m not, ah, very good at poker.” “It’ll be fine Willie, it’ll be //fine//. I’ve got it all planned out, you see? You don’t have to win, we just have to make the //others// lose so //I// can win.” "Okay?" "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Willie. You're my good luck charm! Just sit near me so I can rub your head." Vincent noogied him, a sign of things to come. ---- An hour later, two men were getting booted out of the casino and barred from future entry. “Damn it, I was sure that would work.” said Vincent Bohart, the would-be mastermind, standing up and stretching his aching back. “How was that even supposed to work, Vincent?” asked Wettle. “You //know// how bad I am at cards.” “Ha, I sure do, flushed you out of your paycheck more than enough times in our day. That was //part// of the plan." “But how-” Wettle began to ask, before deciding he didn't really want to know the inner-workings of a Sokolsky wannabe with an IQ of 50. “Fuck it, drinks are on you, let’s go to the Rusty Cow.” “Aw Wettle you old softie, you still remember that place?” No shit he did; he’d wiled the nights away more than a few times there with the guys from the Site, on nights where he really should have gone home to Rita. Seeing all those Site-333 lifers, night after night with no-one to go home to; well, it’s where he'd really learned the meaning of rock bottom. Where he'd decided he’d be better, do better. Look how that’d turned out, eh? He did make it to Forty-Three, to Canada. A new place, new people, a new start. Where the genius of William Wettle might finally be appreciated. But it wasn’t to be, Wet Willie would always remain who he was inside. Like a little piece of Atlantic City had been lodged within from birth. Hell, maybe he’d been praying to the same thing that’d caused that Rapture Event all those years ago, that wouldn’t be too farfetched. Dr. William Wettle, patron saint of Atlantic City. He’d heard odder. ---- The Rusty Cow stank worse than the Site. Like hopelessness and regret, and stories best left forgotten. Vincent ordered two drinks from the bartender, they were vaguely brown and smelled of paint thinner, the men both downed them, Wettle’s headache let up some. “Just like old times, eh Willie?” It was. Being pulled in the undertow of Site-333 and its staff’s schemes, failure ensuing, winding up at the bar, waking up hungover to do it all over again; it //was// just like old times. Like a puzzle piece that fits in perfectly, like coming home. But it was an ugly picture, a broken home. Wettle was in replication studies, he knew the pattern, couldn’t let himself get caught in it again, lest he remain stuck. Just one more drink. “Just one more drink.” Wettle said, as if voicing it would make it so. “That’s the spirit, Willie.” cheered Vincent, ordering another round, “Always one more.” Wettle drank in the surroundings as the liquid burned down his throat. The bar hadn’t changed in the past two decades, either. Same bartender, same decor; he even recognized some of the patrons. Worse for wear of course, but not unrecognizable. There was Lonely Susan, Small Jack, even Bob the Plumber and… Wettle felt a pang in his head at the sight of a stranger. Wettle glanced at them again, like an idiot, and he was feeling as he had when he first washed up there this morning. //Exactly// the same sort of pain. Hm, was it really due to the… Wettle glanced over again, the vague silhouette looked right at him. He elbowed Vincent, and nudged unsubtly in their direction. Vincent’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit; Segretos,” he whispered under his breath. “//Segretos?!//” “Shhhh” loudly motioned Bohart. “Not so loud, I don’t think they've noticed us yet. Act natural, let's step out the back.” Wettle downed the rest of the oily substance and the two drunks stumbled their way towards the side door. The Segretos. Wettle knew of them, of course, everybody at 333 did. Couldn’t so much as jaywalk in Jersey without their say so, and they were as influential behind the Veil as outside of it. You crossed them, and you didn’t just disappear; it was like you were never born. Truer successors to the Chicago Spirit there may not be. And so it was damn distressing that Vincent //recognized// one. Sure it was possible Bohart was assigned to an anomaly or investigation concerning them; hell, he was the Site Director, he’d know about that anyway. Any other Site, any other city, any other man would deserve the benefit of the doubt. But this was Site-333, Wettle knew how things worked here. “How much do you owe them, Vincent?” he asked, as they quickly turned a corner down an alleyway. “Are you implying I’d associate myself with an enemy GoI, Willie?” Bohart said, side-eyeing him. “Don’t bullshit me, Bohart, not when you got me roped into this.” “Damn it Wettle, if you’d just //followed the plan,// I’d have it all //back// by now.” “What //‘plan’?//” hissed Wettle. “The one that failed miserably? //That// plan?” They turned another corner. "Will you quit criticizing me and focus on where we're going?" "I was following you!" "Oh, so //now// you follow my directions," said Vincent, rolling his eyes. "You //live// here, you piece--" Suddenly Wettle felt cool metal on his back, and was interrupted by a suave feminine voice. "The only piece you need to worry about, dear doctor, is the one to your back." [[div class="Uno"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[size 200%]] [[span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"]]WILL WILLIE WETTLE GET SHOT IN HIS STUPID FACE?[[/span]] [[/size]] [[size 200%]] [[span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"]]WILL VINCENT BOHART'S GAMBLING DEBT WIN HIM A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH?[[/span]] [[/size]] [[size 200%]] [[span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"]]WILL THE PAIN EVER END?[[/span]] [[/size]] Find out next time! Same Wet-time, Same Wet-channel! on [[size 300%]] [[span style="font-family: 'Alfa Slab One', cursive;"]]##FFFFFF\|WASHED UP##[[/span]] [[/size]] [[=image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/groups-of-interest/vktmlogo.png width="96px"]] [[/=]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|ratings= --]]]	2023-06-08T20:08:00	[ "_cc", "action", "comedy", "director-bohart", "doctor-wettle", "mystery", "on-guard-43", "tale", "vikander-kneed" ]	WILLIE WETTLE WASHED UP WHILE WALKING - SCP Foundation	84	[ "prismal", "scp-7853", "scp-6630/offset/1", "scp-6458", "scp-227-fr", "scp-7195", "scp-6361", "scp-6569", "fae-myths-and-legends", "siggy-and-the-slumbering-woods", "the-blank-page", "capitalism-a-love-story", "siggy-and-the-forgotten-kingdom", "opusconfidant-april-1st-2023-spotlight", "9-to-5", "acopalypse" ]	[ "secure-facility-dossier-site-333", "vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "on-guard-43-hub" ]	[]	1448365468	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/willie-wettle-washed-up-while-walking
with-astraeus-watching-over	<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%3Acalamity/2&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>With Astraeus Watching Over</strong><br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="/oboebandgeek99">Oboebandgeek99</a><br/> This article is something of a follow up to <a href="/color-and-light">Color and Light</a>. Check that out if you want!<br/> ⚠️ <strong>Content warning:</strong> This article contains themes of death, depression, and implied suicidal ideation.</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>Reynix and PrischA lie down on top of the building on Grove street. The tall one, that goes beyond all the others. Her feet are by their head, and vice versa. She points up to a star, and their hand guides her to complete the constellation.</p> <p>“Taurus,” Reynix says, tracing the horns for PrischA. “The Bull.”</p> <p>“I knew that. Somewhere deep in there.” She retraces it. “I think I see the bull.”</p> <p>“And then… did I already do Orion?” PrischA shakes her head. Reynix grabs her hand again and traces it. “He’s a… he was a hunter? I think?”</p> <p>“I don’t see it at all.”</p> <p>“Start with the belt, three stars in the middle.” They trace the belt over and over. “He was a hunter,” they repeat. “In… Greek mythology? I think. Killed by… Artemis? Yeah. Greek. Artemis was the goddess of the hunt. And she hunted him. But, to save and honor him, the gods placed him among the stars.”</p> <p>“Immortality,” PrischA says.</p> <p>“Of a sort.” Reynix sighs, their breath visible in the chilled winter air. “Prolly beats whatever we have.”</p> <p>“You think?”</p> <p>Reynix shrugs, laying their arm down. “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”</p> <p>“About what?”</p> <p>“Immortality. Life.” Reynix pauses. “Death.”</p> <p>“In what way?”</p> <p>Reynix could lie. They consider it. They’re just not sure what the point would be.</p> <p>“Viscerally.” They think about it. “You know when I was young, before all this, I never thought I’d make it past twenty-one.”</p> <p>“Why not?”</p> <p>“Couldn’t tell you. Just had a feeling. Then suddenly, I’m twenty-five, no direction, no plan, no path forward.” They sigh. “And then, by some miracle, I practically stumbled into anart. Sometimes I think I chose it not because of the art or the message– or, not <em>just</em> because of that– but because it was easy."</p> <p>"<a href="/color-and-light">Having done art myself</a>, no it isn't."</p> <p>"Fair enough, artiste. No, but what I mean is it was so easy to come up with some bullshit brief, apply to residencies and grants and then just earn a shit ton of money." They chuckle. "I heard one guy made a killing by <em>not</em> making a shark. What the fuck does that even mean?” PrischA even has a wry smile on her face, a rare occurrence (though it seems to be getting more common, especially around Reynix).</p> <p>Reynix calms down, returning to their story to reminisce and critique <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">(the only two things they’re capable of)</span>.</p> <p>“The field of anart was young and wild and if you impressed one of the weirdo higher-ups, you were basically set for life because money was no object. We thought we were revolutionary, fighting the system, yet we never asked where the money came from."</p> <p>"Where did it come from?"</p> <p>"The system itself. The weirdo high-ups? Not as independent as they liked to make themselves out to be."</p> <p>"Figures."</p> <p>"But somewhere in my guts, I knew that wouldn’t last forever, and I knew that when the bottom fell out from all of us, I was beyond fucked. I was dead for real.” A breeze gently passes over them, and Reynix shivers.</p> <p>“So what happened?” PrishcA’s silences are never judgemental. She takes in what Reynix says and simply asks what interests her.</p> <p>“Everyone else was dead for real. But not me. Another miracle.” There’s another pause. Reynix debates saying it, but again they feel compelled not to lie (or, in this case, omit). “The Calamity spared the wrong person. I should’ve been dead ten times over by now. Yet, here I am. Still. Somehow. Surviving it all. Miracle after miracle after miracle, keeping me alive. And what’s the point?” Reynix scoffs. “What am I doing here? Who is helped by my being here? Why am I still alive if I still just feel this… emptiness?”</p> <p>Something shifts in the silence. Reynix can’t describe what, but realizes that for once PrischA’s voice is not dispassionate and observant. It’s personal, and genuine. And if Reynix didn’t know any better, they’d say there’s fear there. “Are you saying you wish you were dead?”</p> <p>Reynix doesn’t respond. They don’t have an answer. They simply trace another constellation with their hand.</p> <p>The silence becomes more comfortable and PrischA’s voice returns to its normal timbre. “It’s odd, death. Thinking I’ve died once before. Or at least this body has.”</p> <p>"Do you… remember dying?"</p> <p>She seems to struggle to word the response. “I don’t really have her memories. But there’s… flashes of something. Muscle memory. And when I consider death, my body tenses up and I… feel it. I feel the car that crashed into me. Her. This.” PrischA pauses. "Do you?"</p> <p>Reynix pauses. "I don't even remember if I died now. Feels like it but maybe I just… forgot I survived."</p> <p>PrischA hums in affirmation. “So there's this physical imprint of death,” she continues, “but there’s also me. My consciousness, my soul, my… whatever ‘I’ am. And that’s never known death. Except the death of others. And I didn’t know many others. Not well enough for their death to affect me. I’ve never understood loss because I’ve never… had anything. And death, when not your own, is loss. And I don’t know how I’d feel about that. I don't know what to think about it at all.”</p> <p>“Well. What are you thinking now?” Reynix doesn’t think she’s holding back intentionally, but knows that whatever’s on her mind will be worth hearing.</p> <p>“I think none of us ask to be born or made. And none of us ask to die one day. And none of us ask to come back, or survive, and none of us ask for immortality. But things happen to us one way or another.”</p> <p>"Things do keep happening," Reynix whispers.</p> <p>“And I’m thinking about miracles. I don’t understand miracles, I don’t think they happen. But things do happen, and surely some of those things are miracles. Because somehow you and I are on the same rooftop in the same town at the same time, and your hand leads mine to show me the constellations, and you explain the ones you remember while I try to see a picture in disconnected points of light. Somehow, for the first time, I have something. And that is the closest I think I’ll ever get to understanding what a miracle is.”</p> <p>Reynix can hardly breath. “This is… mundane, PrischA, two friends sharing time? It’s not noteworthy, it’s not special, it’s not miraculous.”</p> <p>“It is to me.”</p> <p>And that’s the end of that conversation. PrischA goes back to tracing the constellations Reynix just showed her.</p> <p>“Orion?” she asks, checking.</p> <p>“Yeah.”</p> <p>“He was a hunter. Killed by artemis.”</p> <p>“Yeah. Though,” they take their time saying this, “I think she was… actually friends with him.”</p> <p>“Like us,” PrischA says, half a question.</p> <p>“Well, I hope you’re not planning on killing me.”</p> <p>“I hope you’re not planning on dying.”</p> <p>“I guess not.”</p> <p>“I still don’t see a hunter,” she says.</p> <p>“Well, what do you see?”</p> <p>This time, PrischA guides Reynix’s hand. “I see two people. There–” she traces one side of Orion– “and there–” the other side– “and in the middle?” She traces the belt, but doesn’t elaborate.</p> <p>“Yeah?”</p> <p>“They’re holding hands.”</p> <p>And they are.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="/unhuman-hub">Unhuman Hub</a></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="/with-astraeus-watching-over">With Astraeus Watching Over</a>" by Oboebandgeek99, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/with-astraeus-watching-over">https://scpwiki.com/with-astraeus-watching-over</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:calamity">:scp-wiki:theme:calamity</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] With Astraeus Watching Over Author: [[[Oboebandgeek99]]] This article is something of a follow up to [[[Color and Light]]]. Check that out if you want! ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains themes of death, depression, and implied suicidal ideation. [[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>]] Reynix and PrischA lie down on top of the building on Grove street. The tall one, that goes beyond all the others. Her feet are by their head, and vice versa. She points up to a star, and their hand guides her to complete the constellation. “Taurus,” Reynix says, tracing the horns for PrischA. “The Bull.” “I knew that. Somewhere deep in there.” She retraces it. “I think I see the bull.” “And then… did I already do Orion?” PrischA shakes her head. Reynix grabs her hand again and traces it. “He’s a… he was a hunter? I think?” “I don’t see it at all.” “Start with the belt, three stars in the middle.” They trace the belt over and over. “He was a hunter,” they repeat. “In… Greek mythology? I think. Killed by… Artemis? Yeah. Greek. Artemis was the goddess of the hunt. And she hunted him. But, to save and honor him, the gods placed him among the stars.” “Immortality,” PrischA says. “Of a sort.” Reynix sighs, their breath visible in the chilled winter air. “Prolly beats whatever we have.” “You think?” Reynix shrugs, laying their arm down. “I’ve been thinking about it lately.” “About what?” “Immortality. Life.” Reynix pauses. “Death.” “In what way?” Reynix could lie. They consider it. They’re just not sure what the point would be. “Viscerally.” They think about it. “You know when I was young, before all this, I never thought I’d make it past twenty-one.” “Why not?” “Couldn’t tell you. Just had a feeling. Then suddenly, I’m twenty-five, no direction, no plan, no path forward.” They sigh. “And then, by some miracle, I practically stumbled into anart. Sometimes I think I chose it not because of the art or the message– or, not //just// because of that– but because it was easy." "[[[color-and-light \|Having done art myself]]], no it isn't." "Fair enough, artiste. No, but what I mean is it was so easy to come up with some bullshit brief, apply to residencies and grants and then just earn a shit ton of money." They chuckle. "I heard one guy made a killing by //not// making a shark. What the fuck does that even mean?” PrischA even has a wry smile on her face, a rare occurrence (though it seems to be getting more common, especially around Reynix). Reynix calms down, returning to their story to reminisce and critique --(the only two things they’re capable of)--. “The field of anart was young and wild and if you impressed one of the weirdo higher-ups, you were basically set for life because money was no object. We thought we were revolutionary, fighting the system, yet we never asked where the money came from." "Where did it come from?" "The system itself. The weirdo high-ups? Not as independent as they liked to make themselves out to be." "Figures." "But somewhere in my guts, I knew that wouldn’t last forever, and I knew that when the bottom fell out from all of us, I was beyond fucked. I was dead for real.” A breeze gently passes over them, and Reynix shivers. “So what happened?” PrishcA’s silences are never judgemental. She takes in what Reynix says and simply asks what interests her. “Everyone else was dead for real. But not me. Another miracle.” There’s another pause. Reynix debates saying it, but again they feel compelled not to lie (or, in this case, omit). “The Calamity spared the wrong person. I should’ve been dead ten times over by now. Yet, here I am. Still. Somehow. Surviving it all. Miracle after miracle after miracle, keeping me alive. And what’s the point?” Reynix scoffs. “What am I doing here? Who is helped by my being here? Why am I still alive if I still just feel this… emptiness?” Something shifts in the silence. Reynix can’t describe what, but realizes that for once PrischA’s voice is not dispassionate and observant. It’s personal, and genuine. And if Reynix didn’t know any better, they’d say there’s fear there. “Are you saying you wish you were dead?” Reynix doesn’t respond. They don’t have an answer. They simply trace another constellation with their hand. The silence becomes more comfortable and PrischA’s voice returns to its normal timbre. “It’s odd, death. Thinking I’ve died once before. Or at least this body has.” "Do you... remember dying?" She seems to struggle to word the response. “I don’t really have her memories. But there’s… flashes of something. Muscle memory. And when I consider death, my body tenses up and I… feel it. I feel the car that crashed into me. Her. This.” PrischA pauses. "Do you?" Reynix pauses. "I don't even remember if I died now. Feels like it but maybe I just... forgot I survived." PrischA hums in affirmation. “So there's this physical imprint of death,” she continues, “but there’s also me. My consciousness, my soul, my… whatever ‘I’ am. And that’s never known death. Except the death of others. And I didn’t know many others. Not well enough for their death to affect me. I’ve never understood loss because I’ve never… had anything. And death, when not your own, is loss. And I don’t know how I’d feel about that. I don't know what to think about it at all.” “Well. What are you thinking now?” Reynix doesn’t think she’s holding back intentionally, but knows that whatever’s on her mind will be worth hearing. “I think none of us ask to be born or made. And none of us ask to die one day. And none of us ask to come back, or survive, and none of us ask for immortality. But things happen to us one way or another.” "Things do keep happening," Reynix whispers. “And I’m thinking about miracles. I don’t understand miracles, I don’t think they happen. But things do happen, and surely some of those things are miracles. Because somehow you and I are on the same rooftop in the same town at the same time, and your hand leads mine to show me the constellations, and you explain the ones you remember while I try to see a picture in disconnected points of light. Somehow, for the first time, I have something. And that is the closest I think I’ll ever get to understanding what a miracle is.” Reynix can hardly breath. “This is… mundane, PrischA, two friends sharing time? It’s not noteworthy, it’s not special, it’s not miraculous.” “It is to me.” And that’s the end of that conversation. PrischA goes back to tracing the constellations Reynix just showed her. “Orion?” she asks, checking. “Yeah.” “He was a hunter. Killed by artemis.” “Yeah. Though,” they take their time saying this, “I think she was… actually friends with him.” “Like us,” PrischA says, half a question. “Well, I hope you’re not planning on killing me.” “I hope you’re not planning on dying.” “I guess not.” “I still don’t see a hunter,” she says. “Well, what do you see?” This time, PrischA guides Reynix’s hand. “I see two people. There–” she traces one side of Orion– “and there–” the other side– “and in the middle?” She traces the belt, but doesn’t elaborate. “Yeah?” “They’re holding hands.” And they are. = [[[Unhuman Hub]]] [[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>]]	2023-01-13T01:21:00	[ "_licensebox", "tale", "unhuman" ]	With Astraeus Watching Over - SCP Foundation	15	[ "oboebandgeek99", "color-and-light", "unhuman-hub", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "unhuman-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1445461108	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/with-astraeus-watching-over
wonder-amongst-corpses	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><tt>I recall I wept for the first couple minutes (or hours). Wondered if this was death and father was right. No heaven or hell or purgatory, just emptiness. What's the point? What does the endless struggle lead to? Quiet oblivion? No… No… I am a little ways off track. Better rewind the time. Prior to the fruits of my youth.</tt></p> <p><tt>My earliest memory, or as early I can recall, is traveling with my old man and brother (or sister). Ma died a few years back along with the rest our history. I think. Although, maybe she abandoned us, or maybe she quietly tagged along? I lived longer than expected. The human mind was not meant for such longevity like my own. It’s gotten to the point where the line between memories and dreams blurs beyond recovery. I’m pretty sure there are a good amount of details long since faded. Nevertheless, certain pieces of my upbringing shall abandon me.</tt></p> <p><tt>No matter how hard I try.</tt></p> <p><tt>We marched onwards for weeks, if not months, nonstop to start anew. Going to a place of legend. Place where one both earns an honest days pay and lives a life of luxury. All over the country, rumors say such a paradise is there. Rumor say their crafts are absolute perfection. The bewildering claims were more solid: the evangelist distributed actual products from the place. Hell, even their dirt-cheap ham tasted like fireworks. No one was foolish enough to overlook the chance to work at such a business. It was for folk like ourselves to make the travel. From the lazy-slacker who desired a lofty life style. To the actual hard-workers who craved the challenge. Personally prefer to believe we were the latter.</tt></p> <p><tt>Remembrance of the reason behind our movement were quite vague. Pa too prideful to tell why. Every time we asked, he only ever looked the other way, sometimes his fists would tighten. Instead he’d move the conversation to a verse from the Bible. During the nights I often hear him angrily mutter random phrases in his sleep about ma. The phrases Pa utter continued to echo in my mind to this very day.</tt></p> <p><tt>“Wasn’t me who spilled false red. Damn the witch I killed in bed.”</tt></p> <p><tt>Me and my bother (or sister) figure it be wiser to keep Father sleep mutters a secret. Ultimately that was a lifetime ago. My brother (or sister) rarely pester more than once a day. Usually about trivial matters no one else care for. A single unsettling glare was enough to end any curiosity on his (or her) part. I was the more rebellious and chaotic sibling. I'd talk the night away over personal questions and inappropriate affairs. It took a good spanking or two to dampen me</tt></p> <p><tt>My mind was quite one-sided over whatever questions came to me. No one could blame me, I mean most days were just traveling an empty desert and reading the good book. My mind wanders from time to time. Sometime I thought I saw something bizarre like a metallic snake to drunken lady of greenery. Then again, maybe I did. I cannot recount my age at the time, but I was shorter than the horses legs. We will say four for simplicity sake. Regardless a child needs variety stay awake. It was a period when pestering all that matters, for pestering was the bread and butter of my daily life. With the Bible being a good cup of joe during the latter half.</tt></p> <p><tt>The closest the three of us ever got were during service. I still recall some those lesson like: “Call upon me on the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me.” Father made sure to use a thundering voice whenever he reference a verse. Father would educate us on a couple pages from the book. It was the only time I ever saw father smile. He claimed it was because he was teaching us about the lord.</tt></p> <p><tt>My brother (or sister) often whispered a different story to me. How it was the only time Pa got be smart. Then be followed by belittling father intelligent. claiming father knew nothing about birds or the sea or sand or even farming. He (or she) often claim mother would have done it right. I never figured out what that meant.</tt></p> <p><tt>Or maybe I figure thing out, only to purposely forget. Highly likely. Considering what happened to us. I prefer to remember them in the best light.</tt></p> <p><tt>Eventually the three of us arrived at our predestinate mortal heaven. The outer structures were breathtaking, simply breathtaking. Even after all these centuries and travels I have yet to find an equal. I dare not mock such architectural master-piece with a parody of a description. Words alone, regardless how scholarly are not capable of illustrating the mystical sights I glazed upon. There was a unforgettable and unreliable music be heard the closer we got. Easily succeeded the talents of both Mozart and Beethoven. I swear, my lips form the largest smile as we walk through the entrance. Every ounce of childhood wonder embraces the beautiful intoxicating aura. It flourished in the atmosphere like a bouquet of spring flowers.</tt></p> <p><tt>Entrance was impossible large. As we got close I wonder if those doors reached the clouds? Or perchance was the hole size of a mountain? I only saw and would ever see the entrance once in my entire life. For a brief moment we considered it heaven.</tt></p> <p><tt>Alas reality unveiled itself.</tt></p> <p><tt>It was actually a Venus Fly Trap masked as Bluebonnets. We realize the truth too late. Regardless, the very second our feet step inside, was the second our souls were forsaken. Once inside the delusion forever shattered. That fact reinforced by several tall men, all of whom beat us with heavy iron and strong wood. Aimed at the torso and legs. They actively avoided of the head and arms. Not from a thread of mercy, their sadistic laughter clarified how minor their humanity was, but because they still required operable meat.</tt></p> <p><tt>After the sudden thrashing, we take our place in a average work line. Their skin stained color red, eyes were yellow as the sand outside, broken hands continued claw away even when nothing was before them. The picture was quite clear. We were now another concomitant part in a soulless machine, conceal inside a world of thick rust and of dry blood and of boiling oil. The factory provided us the bare minimum. Comforts were few and far between. They fed us a single rat per day, and didn't bother to deliver it cooked or killed. We were all forced to sleep together in a single pile, which was an impossibility given the loud noise and cramped conditions. Offered one restroom break per day, we only ever wore a single attire.</tt></p> <p><tt>Children weren’t spared from this cruelty. Minus a single class, where me and other young could be educated on our task. My education was learning how create things. I don’t remember the class very well. The science was either too complex or too unorthodox. Somehow I subconsciously connected the dots. Soon enough, I am able to use magic without care. Don’t know how I do, I just do, like instinct or a reflex. failed to pick up the techniques was left to rot.</tt></p> <p><tt>The beaters were by far the worse part. They love their wipes, and their bats, and blades. Hitting us whenever the opportunity came. However they love torment a guy like me the most. Many workers were born, raised, and would perish here. I was different, I came from the outside world, I knew what I was being denied. They knew it too. They love telling what I was missing out on. Eating delicious burger before my eyes as they stomped on my stomach. Their favorite part was getting other slaves to attack me. It didn’t take much to provoke them, other slaves were downright livid over my presence, I’m unsure as to why though. If I had to guess, it is because I seemed stupid to them, being an outsider who blindly tossed aside his freedom over a lousy rumor. I had the life they craved and were denied from birth, yet ended up here by choice.</tt></p> <p><tt>Ironically their disdain became my survival.</tt></p> <p><tt>Usually when a worker suffers an injury, they were left to fend for themselves. I, however, was given actual medical attention, something withheld from the beaters. Out of pity or sadistic pressure, the doctor informed me of the reason behind the special treatment. Apparently Anderson noticed how productive his slaves operated following my inflictions. The jovial mentality resulting my pain, or “atonement” as they phrase as, what renewed their spirits. Anderson was quick to exploit an easy profit. I soon received exclusive benefits. Rats were cooked, I was allowed to sleep alone, as well as continuous physical treatment. Of course the rest of the factory slaves would learn about these perks by Anderson himself. He used whispers to depict me as smug and egotistical over them. Word travel fast from ear to ear like wild fire.</tt></p> <p><tt>The suffocating livid air choked the lungs. Reached my own brother (or sister) who was engulfed by the factory wraith. That one became an effective beater, who loved to hit wherever he (or she) could. That one relished the sound of crackling bones and unfathomable screams. There was nothing left of my sibling. Just a monster wearing his (or her) skin.</tt></p> <p><tt>It was father who truly destroyed me. Me and my brother (or sister) stop aging. No, more accurately our aging slowed to an unnoticeable level. I looked thirteen when I was sixty? Brother (or sister) looked twenty when he (or she) was sixty-five? Father, though? Was ninety and looked ninety, and far worse for wear. I was allowed a brief moment say goodbye. Can’t recall much, but the last bit the encounter shall forever haunt me.</tt></p> <p><tt>“Father! Father!” I cried.</tt></p> <p><tt>“I am sorry… So sorry.” He remarks.</tt></p> <p><tt>“Don’t… Don’t say that dad. This is not your fault, okay? You did not know this would happen.”</tt></p> <p><tt>“No… No… I am sorry for telling you fairy tales. For deluding you… With nonsense. I… I should have known… It's all gibberish.”</tt></p> <p><tt>“What?”</tt></p> <p><tt>“The book… Is a lie. God is a lie. Do not mistake… My words… God not dead, for… He never alive to began with…”</tt></p> <p><tt>“…” I pause at those words. They shook me to the core. The last statement dampened what spark of a soul was left in those eyes. “Dad? D… Don’t…”</tt></p> <p><tt>“Why not? How could… a god allow this? This nightmare, this pain… This evil? There is no god… I filled your head with nonsense… Forgive me…”</tt></p> <p><tt>Father’s eyes closed one final time. The coldness in that final stare burned into my mind, I see it whenever I close my eyes. With that, the final piece of my soul faded away. I was no longer capable of finding a spark of life within me. No matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t smile again. Whatever glimpse of happiness left then engulfed by the darkness. Leaving merely a shell of a man. Beatings grew worse and worse by the day. Wiping, the taunts, and hatred increase rapidly without end.</tt></p> <p><tt>You may be wondering by now how I escaped?</tt></p> <p><tt>What elaborate plan was forge to save me?</tt></p> <p><tt>To be frank, your guess is as good as mine. For we go back to the start this tale, where I awakened in the dark. I had nothing, but the remaining cloth still clung to my skin. I could barely move more than a twitch at a time. I was forced to utilize the other senses to comprehend the environment. My ears were as good as my eyes. The surroundings reek of a scent of rotten meat. My entire body rubbed up against something thick and moist. Suddenly I realize the truth, surrounding me were corpses, faceless slaves tossed aside like myself.</tt></p> <p><tt>I am clueless as to the whys and hows I got there. All I knew is that it took a a ton of effort to wiggle forward, and that was all there was to do. The longer I wiggled, the harder it got, eventually the effort require became too much. Part of me was semi-thankful for all the experience of torment Anderson had given me. It helped thicken my skin and increase my durability. Otherwise the lack of oxygen and tight shape would’ve been a death sentence.</tt></p> <p><tt>The other part of me is still absolutely livid. Perchance this ending suited me, and I was just wasting time struggling in vain. In the end I thought I was destined to perish amongst the deceased. I couldn’t think of a single reason why I was better than the faceless corpses around me. Not like anyone actually cared about me. I had nothing to cling to and nowhere to go. Everyone I cherished was already gone, in more ways than one. So why continue?</tt></p> <p><tt>For the longest time I lay still and waiting for the peace.</tt></p> <p><tt>That sweet, peaceful oblivion.</tt></p> <p><tt>Suddenly when the mind surrendered to the nihilism, but that’s when I heard it. “Call upon me on the day of trouble…” I recalled those words of encouragement. The very words my pa told me long, long ago. The words of my savior whispers to me. I had long since forsaken him however he did not forsaken me. “Call upon me on the day of trouble…” The phrase repeatedly sang to me.</tt></p> <p><tt>Telling me, no demanding me forward. To grasp the last once of strength to finally regain control of my life. Naturally I wiggled and dug and clawed forth. The only alternative was to embrace madness, and I had been doing that long enough.</tt></p> <p><tt>Arms reached onward with minimum meat or muscle. Used what little spirit remained within me to peel the decayed fresh. The rotted bones snap upon my grip. Blood leaked into my mouth for every movement. At a certain point my fingernails started to rip-off. Whole body driven purely on adrenaline. There is no light, air has gone thinner, and the body grows heavier. I crawled for what felt like centuries upon centuries.</tt></p> <p><tt>Nevertheless, the idea of death refuses to stick anymore. Maybe a part of me desired to live after all. Or maybe deep down I desired to perish on my own terms? Regardless, I was determined to never allow others to shape my fate ever again..</tt></p> <p><tt>Finally, after god knows how long, my fingertips felt sand. Not meat, but sand, warm desert sand. They scratch the crust until they pierce through the ground. I allow my hand to grasp the empty air for a while, idea of the outdoor a distance memory so I hadn’t a clue what to expect. Yet I knew I needed seize it. Right arm reached out to touch my left hand. Once both palms touch one another, I pull them down with whatever force is still within me. Rushed to the surface like a rocket causing the ground to explode.</tt></p> <p><tt>It was midday, the sun shines down on me, providing a warmth I haven't felt in years. The soft breeze stroked my chin. Meanwhile my lungs took in every bit of the fresh air. My eyes poured a rainstorm and arm continuously attempted to hug the cold gush of wind. I did it… After so many years, I… I was saved. It then the entirety of the verse stated. “Call upon me on the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me.”</tt></p> <p><tt>Took a minute till the dust settled and the honeymoon success wore-off. I recognized the situation, I was right back to square one, only worse off. I managed to escape The Factory, but now what? I had nothing, not even a name. My family is all gone. There is no home to return to. My sole possession was the filthy wore-out attire barely clinging to me. I had no semblance of joy or happiness inside. I asked both myself and the lord: “What now?”</tt></p> <p><tt>There was a soft noise of rolling broken wood behind me. Eyes glance to the source, it looked like a traveling sign demolished in a heavy storm. Half of it busted, other half missing. The pieces I could recognize was the tip of a red arrow pointing north, with a single word: “Marshall”.</tt></p> <p><tt>I nodded and understood. With that I had a name and a direction. With that I took a step forward.</tt></p> <p>…</p> <p>“Okay, that's enough for tonight.” A pale man in a black attire got up from his wooden Chair. He possessed a deep rough southern accent. He stood-up and reached towards the light-switch to call it a night. “Now get some sleep, Abigale.”</p> <p><span style="color: blue">“What?”</span> Abigale asked in confusion. She was a bizarre little girl in every sense of the term. Tall as a pillow, had blue skin, her freckles were stars that dimly glowed, downward curry metallic hair, pitch-black eyes with soft neon pupils, two sharp points on both ears, and cherry nose and cheeks. Her voice was like a warm summer, full of jovial energy with a southern accent. <span style="color: blue">“What happened next? What happened next? What happened next?”</span></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-left" style="width:300px;"><img alt="abigale.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/wonder-amongst-corpses/abigale.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Abigale Wondertainment<br/> By John Asknes</p> </div> </div> <p>“I walked. Duh.”</p> <p><span style="color: blue">“No, no, ah’ mean where to? It can’t just end like that! You tell me you endure all that, and end the story there? Are you kidding me?”</span></p> <p>“What happens next is another story, for another time. Right now we have a lot to do tomorrow. Lots of toys for good boys and sweet girls. We need to get plenty of shut-eye.”</p> <p><span style="color: blue">“Man! Ah’ really wanna know.”</span></p> <p>“Tell you what. If you help me make the quarter tomorrow, I will tell you how I became Dr. Marshall Wondertainment.”</p> <p><span style="color: blue">“It’s a done deal, pa!”</span></p> <p>Marshall stood by the door frame when hearing those words. The words from the adopted blue child he considered his own. He desired to reward her with a smile or express return some affection back, but instead could only muster a small nod with a straight face.</p> <p><span style="color: purple">heh</span></p> <p>He left quickly afterward. He didn't want to face sweet Abigale's frown. The toymaker would be ashamed by the transaction, if he had any emotion that is. In the end, despite all the years and hardship the wounds never healed. No, they grew deeper and deeper and deeper.</p> <p><span style="color: purple">heh heh heh ah aH AH</span></p> <p>The hollow man sat down beside an empty table. He began to feel the shackles of life grip him again. “You do not own me.” He whimpered.</p> <p><span style="color: purple">AH AH AH AH AH AH AH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA</span></p> <div class="scp-image-block block-left" style="width:300px;"><img alt="marshall.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/wonder-amongst-corpses/marshall.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>Dr Marshall Wondertainment<br/> By John Asknes</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="/wonder-amongst-corpses">Wonder Amongst Corpses</a>" by John Asknes, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/wonder-amongst-corpses">https://scpwiki.com/wonder-amongst-corpses</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> abigale.jpg, marshall.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/john-asknes" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8115755); return false;"><img alt="John Asknes" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8115755&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728676843" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8115755)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/john-asknes" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8115755); return false;">John Asknes</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wonder-amongst-corpses">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module rate]] [[/>]] {{I recall I wept for the first couple minutes (or hours). Wondered if this was death and father was right. No heaven or hell or purgatory, just emptiness. What's the point? What does the endless struggle lead to? Quiet oblivion? No… No… I am a little ways off track. Better rewind the time. Prior to the fruits of my youth.}} {{My earliest memory, or as early I can recall, is traveling with my old man and brother (or sister). Ma died a few years back along with the rest our history. I think. Although, maybe she abandoned us, or maybe she quietly tagged along? I lived longer than expected. The human mind was not meant for such longevity like my own. It’s gotten to the point where the line between memories and dreams blurs beyond recovery. I’m pretty sure there are a good amount of details long since faded. Nevertheless, certain pieces of my upbringing shall abandon me.}} {{No matter how hard I try.}} {{We marched onwards for weeks, if not months, nonstop to start anew. Going to a place of legend. Place where one both earns an honest days pay and lives a life of luxury. All over the country, rumors say such a paradise is there. Rumor say their crafts are absolute perfection. The bewildering claims were more solid: the evangelist distributed actual products from the place. Hell, even their dirt-cheap ham tasted like fireworks. No one was foolish enough to overlook the chance to work at such a business. It was for folk like ourselves to make the travel. From the lazy-slacker who desired a lofty life style. To the actual hard-workers who craved the challenge. Personally prefer to believe we were the latter.}} {{Remembrance of the reason behind our movement were quite vague. Pa too prideful to tell why. Every time we asked, he only ever looked the other way, sometimes his fists would tighten. Instead he’d move the conversation to a verse from the Bible. During the nights I often hear him angrily mutter random phrases in his sleep about ma. The phrases Pa utter continued to echo in my mind to this very day.}} {{“Wasn’t me who spilled false red. Damn the witch I killed in bed.”}} {{Me and my bother (or sister) figure it be wiser to keep Father sleep mutters a secret. Ultimately that was a lifetime ago. My brother (or sister) rarely pester more than once a day. Usually about trivial matters no one else care for. A single unsettling glare was enough to end any curiosity on his (or her) part. I was the more rebellious and chaotic sibling. I'd talk the night away over personal questions and inappropriate affairs. It took a good spanking or two to dampen me}} {{My mind was quite one-sided over whatever questions came to me. No one could blame me, I mean most days were just traveling an empty desert and reading the good book. My mind wanders from time to time. Sometime I thought I saw something bizarre like a metallic snake to drunken lady of greenery. Then again, maybe I did. I cannot recount my age at the time, but I was shorter than the horses legs. We will say four for simplicity sake. Regardless a child needs variety stay awake. It was a period when pestering all that matters, for pestering was the bread and butter of my daily life. With the Bible being a good cup of joe during the latter half.}} {{The closest the three of us ever got were during service. I still recall some those lesson like: “Call upon me on the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me.” Father made sure to use a thundering voice whenever he reference a verse. Father would educate us on a couple pages from the book. It was the only time I ever saw father smile. He claimed it was because he was teaching us about the lord.}} {{My brother (or sister) often whispered a different story to me. How it was the only time Pa got be smart. Then be followed by belittling father intelligent. claiming father knew nothing about birds or the sea or sand or even farming. He (or she) often claim mother would have done it right. I never figured out what that meant.}} {{Or maybe I figure thing out, only to purposely forget. Highly likely. Considering what happened to us. I prefer to remember them in the best light.}} {{Eventually the three of us arrived at our predestinate mortal heaven. The outer structures were breathtaking, simply breathtaking. Even after all these centuries and travels I have yet to find an equal. I dare not mock such architectural master-piece with a parody of a description. Words alone, regardless how scholarly are not capable of illustrating the mystical sights I glazed upon. There was a unforgettable and unreliable music be heard the closer we got. Easily succeeded the talents of both Mozart and Beethoven. I swear, my lips form the largest smile as we walk through the entrance. Every ounce of childhood wonder embraces the beautiful intoxicating aura. It flourished in the atmosphere like a bouquet of spring flowers.}} {{Entrance was impossible large. As we got close I wonder if those doors reached the clouds? Or perchance was the hole size of a mountain? I only saw and would ever see the entrance once in my entire life. For a brief moment we considered it heaven.}} {{Alas reality unveiled itself.}} {{It was actually a Venus Fly Trap masked as Bluebonnets. We realize the truth too late. Regardless, the very second our feet step inside, was the second our souls were forsaken. Once inside the delusion forever shattered. That fact reinforced by several tall men, all of whom beat us with heavy iron and strong wood. Aimed at the torso and legs. They actively avoided of the head and arms. Not from a thread of mercy, their sadistic laughter clarified how minor their humanity was, but because they still required operable meat.}} {{After the sudden thrashing, we take our place in a average work line. Their skin stained color red, eyes were yellow as the sand outside, broken hands continued claw away even when nothing was before them. The picture was quite clear. We were now another concomitant part in a soulless machine, conceal inside a world of thick rust and of dry blood and of boiling oil. The factory provided us the bare minimum. Comforts were few and far between. They fed us a single rat per day, and didn't bother to deliver it cooked or killed. We were all forced to sleep together in a single pile, which was an impossibility given the loud noise and cramped conditions. Offered one restroom break per day, we only ever wore a single attire.}} {{Children weren’t spared from this cruelty. Minus a single class, where me and other young could be educated on our task. My education was learning how create things. I don’t remember the class very well. The science was either too complex or too unorthodox. Somehow I subconsciously connected the dots. Soon enough, I am able to use magic without care. Don’t know how I do, I just do, like instinct or a reflex. failed to pick up the techniques was left to rot.}} {{The beaters were by far the worse part. They love their wipes, and their bats, and blades. Hitting us whenever the opportunity came. However they love torment a guy like me the most. Many workers were born, raised, and would perish here. I was different, I came from the outside world, I knew what I was being denied. They knew it too. They love telling what I was missing out on. Eating delicious burger before my eyes as they stomped on my stomach. Their favorite part was getting other slaves to attack me. It didn’t take much to provoke them, other slaves were downright livid over my presence, I’m unsure as to why though. If I had to guess, it is because I seemed stupid to them, being an outsider who blindly tossed aside his freedom over a lousy rumor. I had the life they craved and were denied from birth, yet ended up here by choice.}} {{Ironically their disdain became my survival.}} {{Usually when a worker suffers an injury, they were left to fend for themselves. I, however, was given actual medical attention, something withheld from the beaters. Out of pity or sadistic pressure, the doctor informed me of the reason behind the special treatment. Apparently Anderson noticed how productive his slaves operated following my inflictions. The jovial mentality resulting my pain, or “atonement” as they phrase as, what renewed their spirits. Anderson was quick to exploit an easy profit. I soon received exclusive benefits. Rats were cooked, I was allowed to sleep alone, as well as continuous physical treatment. Of course the rest of the factory slaves would learn about these perks by Anderson himself. He used whispers to depict me as smug and egotistical over them. Word travel fast from ear to ear like wild fire.}} {{The suffocating livid air choked the lungs. Reached my own brother (or sister) who was engulfed by the factory wraith. That one became an effective beater, who loved to hit wherever he (or she) could. That one relished the sound of crackling bones and unfathomable screams. There was nothing left of my sibling. Just a monster wearing his (or her) skin.}} {{It was father who truly destroyed me. Me and my brother (or sister) stop aging. No, more accurately our aging slowed to an unnoticeable level. I looked thirteen when I was sixty? Brother (or sister) looked twenty when he (or she) was sixty-five? Father, though? Was ninety and looked ninety, and far worse for wear. I was allowed a brief moment say goodbye. Can’t recall much, but the last bit the encounter shall forever haunt me.}} {{“Father! Father!” I cried.}} {{“I am sorry… So sorry.” He remarks.}} {{“Don’t… Don’t say that dad. This is not your fault, okay? You did not know this would happen.”}} {{“No… No… I am sorry for telling you fairy tales. For deluding you… With nonsense. I… I should have known… It's all gibberish.”}} {{“What?”}} {{“The book… Is a lie. God is a lie. Do not mistake… My words… God not dead, for… He never alive to began with…”}} {{“…” I pause at those words. They shook me to the core. The last statement dampened what spark of a soul was left in those eyes. “Dad? D… Don’t…”}} {{“Why not? How could… a god allow this? This nightmare, this pain… This evil? There is no god… I filled your head with nonsense… Forgive me…”}} {{Father’s eyes closed one final time. The coldness in that final stare burned into my mind, I see it whenever I close my eyes. With that, the final piece of my soul faded away. I was no longer capable of finding a spark of life within me. No matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t smile again. Whatever glimpse of happiness left then engulfed by the darkness. Leaving merely a shell of a man. Beatings grew worse and worse by the day. Wiping, the taunts, and hatred increase rapidly without end.}} {{You may be wondering by now how I escaped?}} {{What elaborate plan was forge to save me?}} {{To be frank, your guess is as good as mine. For we go back to the start this tale, where I awakened in the dark. I had nothing, but the remaining cloth still clung to my skin. I could barely move more than a twitch at a time. I was forced to utilize the other senses to comprehend the environment. My ears were as good as my eyes. The surroundings reek of a scent of rotten meat. My entire body rubbed up against something thick and moist. Suddenly I realize the truth, surrounding me were corpses, faceless slaves tossed aside like myself.}} {{I am clueless as to the whys and hows I got there. All I knew is that it took a a ton of effort to wiggle forward, and that was all there was to do. The longer I wiggled, the harder it got, eventually the effort require became too much. Part of me was semi-thankful for all the experience of torment Anderson had given me. It helped thicken my skin and increase my durability. Otherwise the lack of oxygen and tight shape would’ve been a death sentence.}} {{The other part of me is still absolutely livid. Perchance this ending suited me, and I was just wasting time struggling in vain. In the end I thought I was destined to perish amongst the deceased. I couldn’t think of a single reason why I was better than the faceless corpses around me. Not like anyone actually cared about me. I had nothing to cling to and nowhere to go. Everyone I cherished was already gone, in more ways than one. So why continue?}} {{For the longest time I lay still and waiting for the peace.}} {{That sweet, peaceful oblivion.}} {{Suddenly when the mind surrendered to the nihilism, but that’s when I heard it. “Call upon me on the day of trouble...” I recalled those words of encouragement. The very words my pa told me long, long ago. The words of my savior whispers to me. I had long since forsaken him however he did not forsaken me. “Call upon me on the day of trouble…” The phrase repeatedly sang to me.}} {{Telling me, no demanding me forward. To grasp the last once of strength to finally regain control of my life. Naturally I wiggled and dug and clawed forth. The only alternative was to embrace madness, and I had been doing that long enough.}} {{Arms reached onward with minimum meat or muscle. Used what little spirit remained within me to peel the decayed fresh. The rotted bones snap upon my grip. Blood leaked into my mouth for every movement. At a certain point my fingernails started to rip-off. Whole body driven purely on adrenaline. There is no light, air has gone thinner, and the body grows heavier. I crawled for what felt like centuries upon centuries.}} {{Nevertheless, the idea of death refuses to stick anymore. Maybe a part of me desired to live after all. Or maybe deep down I desired to perish on my own terms? Regardless, I was determined to never allow others to shape my fate ever again..}} {{Finally, after god knows how long, my fingertips felt sand. Not meat, but sand, warm desert sand. They scratch the crust until they pierce through the ground. I allow my hand to grasp the empty air for a while, idea of the outdoor a distance memory so I hadn’t a clue what to expect. Yet I knew I needed seize it. Right arm reached out to touch my left hand. Once both palms touch one another, I pull them down with whatever force is still within me. Rushed to the surface like a rocket causing the ground to explode.}} {{It was midday, the sun shines down on me, providing a warmth I haven't felt in years. The soft breeze stroked my chin. Meanwhile my lungs took in every bit of the fresh air. My eyes poured a rainstorm and arm continuously attempted to hug the cold gush of wind. I did it… After so many years, I… I was saved. It then the entirety of the verse stated. “Call upon me on the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me.”}} {{Took a minute till the dust settled and the honeymoon success wore-off. I recognized the situation, I was right back to square one, only worse off. I managed to escape The Factory, but now what? I had nothing, not even a name. My family is all gone. There is no home to return to. My sole possession was the filthy wore-out attire barely clinging to me. I had no semblance of joy or happiness inside. I asked both myself and the lord: “What now?”}} {{There was a soft noise of rolling broken wood behind me. Eyes glance to the source, it looked like a traveling sign demolished in a heavy storm. Half of it busted, other half missing. The pieces I could recognize was the tip of a red arrow pointing north, with a single word: “Marshall”.}} {{I nodded and understood. With that I had a name and a direction. With that I took a step forward.}} … “Okay, that's enough for tonight.” A pale man in a black attire got up from his wooden Chair. He possessed a deep rough southern accent. He stood-up and reached towards the light-switch to call it a night. “Now get some sleep, Abigale.” ##Blue\|“What?”## Abigale asked in confusion. She was a bizarre little girl in every sense of the term. Tall as a pillow, had blue skin, her freckles were stars that dimly glowed, downward curry metallic hair, pitch-black eyes with soft neon pupils, two sharp points on both ears, and cherry nose and cheeks. Her voice was like a warm summer, full of jovial energy with a southern accent. ##Blue\|“What happened next? What happened next? What happened next?”## [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name=abigale.jpg \| align=left \| caption=Abigale Wondertainment By John Asknes ]] “I walked. Duh.” ##Blue\|“No, no, ah’ mean where to? It can’t just end like that! You tell me you endure all that, and end the story there? Are you kidding me?”## “What happens next is another story, for another time. Right now we have a lot to do tomorrow. Lots of toys for good boys and sweet girls. We need to get plenty of shut-eye.” ##Blue\|“Man! Ah’ really wanna know.”## “Tell you what. If you help me make the quarter tomorrow, I will tell you how I became Dr. Marshall Wondertainment.” ##Blue\|“It’s a done deal, pa!”## Marshall stood by the door frame when hearing those words. The words from the adopted blue child he considered his own. He desired to reward her with a smile or express return some affection back, but instead could only muster a small nod with a straight face. ##Purple\|heh## He left quickly afterward. He didn't want to face sweet Abigale's frown. The toymaker would be ashamed by the transaction, if he had any emotion that is. In the end, despite all the years and hardship the wounds never healed. No, they grew deeper and deeper and deeper. ##Purple\|heh heh heh ah aH AH## The hollow man sat down beside an empty table. He began to feel the shackles of life grip him again. “You do not own me.” He whimpered. ##Purple\|AH AH AH AH AH AH AH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA## [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> \| name=marshall.jpg \| align=left \| caption=Dr Marshall Wondertainment By John Asknes ]] ~~~~~ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename: abigale.jpg, marshall.jpg > Author: [[user John Asknes]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wonder-amongst-corpses SCP Foundation Wiki] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-13T02:32:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "breakout", "dr-wondertainment", "factory", "horror", "illustrated", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "nameless", "tale" ]	Wonder Amongst Corpses - SCP Foundation	9	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "marshall-carter-and-dark-hub", "factory-hub", "dr-wondertainment-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/wonder-amongst-corpses/abigale.jpg", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/wonder-amongst-corpses/marshall.jpg" ]	1445461267	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/wonder-amongst-corpses
world-of-wolves-episode-one	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-prologue">Prologue</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub">World Of Wolves</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-two">Episode Two</a> »</strong></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em>Many months later…</em></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> The town stands empty & derelict, the buildings swaying in the stiff summer breeze. Flowers wilted in pots & gardens, their caretakers having departed without return. Houses have been thrown into disarray by scavenging wildlife, and cars bake in the unrelenting heat, their motors doomed to remain still & silent.</p> <p>From the woods, the bushes part, and an Old Man stumbles out into an empty pavilion, squinting in the overbearing light. Scanning the horizon, he sees only the birds, bugs & woodland critters that emerged & frolicked at this time of year, with nary a single sapient soul in sight.</p> <p>As he makes his way further into the commune, he passes numerous sights that each give him some pause:</p> <p>An overturned human head peers out from a nearby alley, and clicks its jawbones angrily before scampering out of sight on four legs of bloody brain matter.</p> <p>A gaggle of oversized bedbugs scurries their way out of a television storefront, each composed of the same static that plays on each and every screen. They tickle the Old Man's feet as they pass.</p> <p>A dead octopus rots in its pet shop tank, with eight human hands grafted to the ends of its tentacles. Several similar corpses line the pavement.</p> <p>Eventually, the Old Man can walk no more, and alights on a bench to silently lament. In the many months since that "bargain", he had come across three other settlements in this exact state of disarray.</p> <p>He then further ponders on the whereabouts of his "new owners"; the Brothers had said this "Haven of Man" would find him eventually, but so far he had seen no sign of them that he knew. Perhaps they were just too busy. Perhaps <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/house-of-jacinta" target="_blank">something catastrophic</a> had occurred to them. He did not know.</p> <p>Either way, they were absent, along with the rest of humanity.</p> <p>The Old Man was alone, as he had been, and as he would be.</p> <p>Stuck in his melancholic pondering, he barely hears the faint-yet-cacophonous rumbling right until it's all you <em>can</em> hear. Looking up, he sees a massive flood approaching in the distance; not one of water, but of tarantulas, maddened from starvation.</p> <p>Immediately, the Old Man is up from his seat, sprinting towards the shopfronts as the implausible deluge of arachnids quickly overruns the city. He reaches a clothing store & hurries inside, closing the glass door just as the wave rushes up and over the windows.</p> <p>He watches as the arachnids start laying webs at logically implausible speeds, eventually blotting out the sunlight in a veil of threaded white. He'd almost say it was beautiful, if it didn't terrify him.</p> <p>However, a noise from the back of the store snaps him out of his transfixion; a loud crash often attributed only to mischievous cats and oblivious klutzes.</p> <p>Slowly approaching the sound's source, the Old Man grabs a garment hook off a shelf, brandishing it in case he needed the defense.</p> <p>He weaves through the building's back corridors, eventually stopping at a room with a rather conspicuous trail of blood leading inside. Carefully, he pushes open the door, and espies a pile of scattered clothing, seeming to have originated from a fallen box.</p> <p>He slowly peers up and behind the cardboard container..</p> <p>..and sees a coiled mass of taut, pinkish flesh cowering against it, shivering in apparent fear.</p> <p>"…Hello?"</p> <p>The mass startles at the noise, immediately darting for the furthest corner.</p> <p>"P-please don't hurt me! I am fragile and weak!" it pleads in a scratchy, quavering voice.</p> <p>The Old Man hesitates, unsure of how to console the strange being.</p> <p>"Do not.. do not be alarmed. I am merely a lost wanderer, and do not intend harm."</p> <p>The mass lifts one of its' ends slightly, but does not uncoil.</p> <p>"A Wanderer? Like from the Library?"</p> <p>The Old Man thinks for a moment, before shaking his head.</p> <p>"No, I do not believe I came from a library."</p> <p>"Oh." The serpent lowers its' head in apparent disappointment, before raising it again. "But have you at least seen my owner?"</p> <p>"I do not know. What do they look like?"</p> <p>"Oh, he's tall, with a purple suit, and he has a mustache and a big hat with a W on it!" There's a marked enthusiasm in the creature's voice, now.</p> <p>The Old Man thinks for a long moment, before sighing.</p> <p>"No, I don't remember meeting anyone of that sort."</p> <p>Again the creature's head droops, this time accompanied by a quiet deluge of soft whimpering.</p> <p>The Old Man winces slightly, again unsure of how to console the beast.</p> <p>Eventually, he finds something to ask.</p> <p>"…May I, perhaps, know your name?"</p> <p>The mass's head-end lifts slightly, but remains limp.</p> <p>"…<a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2991" target="_blank">Scarf</a>. That's what.. w-what my owner c-called me."</p> <p>“And how, may I ask, did you come to reside here?”</p> <p>“W-well, I had left that big building the white-coated people were keeping me in, a-after they had all left. A-and I tried looking everywhere for my owner’s old apartment, but I didn’t recognize where I was, and I- I still don’t..”</p> <p>Scarf’s speech starts to quicken in panic.</p> <p>“And now I’m h-hiding from those things outside, and I don’t know where my owner is, a-and I’m alone, and I’m scared, and I.. I might not ever s-see him again, and…”</p> <p>The fast-paced explanation quickly devolves into rather ugly crying.</p> <p>“..i just d-don’t know what to do…”</p> <p>“…Hm.” The Old Man beholds the scene, and considers for a moment, before making a decision.</p> <p>“Well, Scarf, I am also looking to find, well, <em>anyone</em> else who yet remains here, and it has been a rather lonesome journey for me thus far as well, so perhaps you could accompany me, for a while?”</p> <p>Scarf looks up from their weeping, their surface glistening with tear-trails of spinal fluid.</p> <p>“Y-you could help me f-find my owner?”</p> <p>“I suppose I could, if he has chosen to stay as well.”</p> <p>A moment of silence, as Scarf seems to recover from the shock.</p> <p>“…thank you.”</p> <p>“You are most welcome.”</p> <p>With that, Scarf slithers over to the Old Man’s legs, and is ferried up onto his neck. It’s a bit cold and spongey, but the Old Man has faced worse situations before.</p> <p>“I-Is this a good place for me?” Scarf asks, as they wind around the Old Man’s neck, leaving a slight stain on his clothing.</p> <p>“I suppose so; I’m unbothered either way.”</p> <p>“Ok. This was my owner’s favorite spot for me, so I hope it isn’t too itchy for you..”</p> <p>“It’s quite alright. Now, we should probably check if the outside is safe to traverse.”</p> <p>“Oh, uh, yeah, that would probably be a good idea.”</p> <p>With that, the pair make their way back to the front of the store, finding a thick coating of webbing plastered across the glass windows, but not a single spider in sight.</p> <p>It takes the Old Man a few seconds to hack away the silk holding the door closed, but he eventually clears enough to allow the duo’s exit.</p> <p>As soon as they’re outside, they see a vast expanse of equally thick webs stretched across the entire lower cityscape like a big cloth; it fortunately does not appear to be adhesive, but there are some seemingly dead tarantulas embedded in its surface.</p> <p>The Old Man carefully navigates the uneven terrain, with Scarf providing some semi-helpful tips on how to stand and where next to step, until they reach an edge where the spiders seemingly refused to advance.</p> <p>Setting foot on non-silken grass, the pair take a moment to reflect.</p> <p>The Old Man is the first to speak; “So, where did you say your ‘owner’ resided?”</p> <p>“Oh! I think he said it was in a place called, er, ‘Baceloena’?”</p> <p>“I see. We have a rather extensive trek ahead of us, then.”</p> <p>The Old Man turns to the sun, then to the right of it, and begins to walk.</p> <p>“Let us make haste.”<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-prologue">Prologue</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub">World Of Wolves</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-two">Episode 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="/world-of-wolves-episode-one">World Of Wolves: Episode One</a>" by Clysm31201, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/world-of-wolves-episode-one">https://scpwiki.com/world-of-wolves-episode-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]] [[/>]] = << [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-prologue\|Prologue]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub\|World Of Wolves]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-two\|Episode Two]]] >> @@ @@ = //Many months later...// @@ @@ The town stands empty & derelict, the buildings swaying in the stiff summer breeze. Flowers wilted in pots & gardens, their caretakers having departed without return. Houses have been thrown into disarray by scavenging wildlife, and cars bake in the unrelenting heat, their motors doomed to remain still & silent. From the woods, the bushes part, and an Old Man stumbles out into an empty pavilion, squinting in the overbearing light. Scanning the horizon, he sees only the birds, bugs & woodland critters that emerged & frolicked at this time of year, with nary a single sapient soul in sight. As he makes his way further into the commune, he passes numerous sights that each give him some pause: An overturned human head peers out from a nearby alley, and clicks its jawbones angrily before scampering out of sight on four legs of bloody brain matter. A gaggle of oversized bedbugs scurries their way out of a television storefront, each composed of the same static that plays on each and every screen. They tickle the Old Man's feet as they pass. A dead octopus rots in its pet shop tank, with eight human hands grafted to the ends of its tentacles. Several similar corpses line the pavement. Eventually, the Old Man can walk no more, and alights on a bench to silently lament. In the many months since that "bargain", he had come across three other settlements in this exact state of disarray. He then further ponders on the whereabouts of his "new owners"; the Brothers had said this "Haven of Man" would find him eventually, but so far he had seen no sign of them that he knew. Perhaps they were just too busy. Perhaps [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/house-of-jacinta something catastrophic] had occurred to them. He did not know. Either way, they were absent, along with the rest of humanity. The Old Man was alone, as he had been, and as he would be. Stuck in his melancholic pondering, he barely hears the faint-yet-cacophonous rumbling right until it's all you //can// hear. Looking up, he sees a massive flood approaching in the distance; not one of water, but of tarantulas, maddened from starvation. Immediately, the Old Man is up from his seat, sprinting towards the shopfronts as the implausible deluge of arachnids quickly overruns the city. He reaches a clothing store & hurries inside, closing the glass door just as the wave rushes up and over the windows. He watches as the arachnids start laying webs at logically implausible speeds, eventually blotting out the sunlight in a veil of threaded white. He'd almost say it was beautiful, if it didn't terrify him. However, a noise from the back of the store snaps him out of his transfixion; a loud crash often attributed only to mischievous cats and oblivious klutzes. Slowly approaching the sound's source, the Old Man grabs a garment hook off a shelf, brandishing it in case he needed the defense. He weaves through the building's back corridors, eventually stopping at a room with a rather conspicuous trail of blood leading inside. Carefully, he pushes open the door, and espies a pile of scattered clothing, seeming to have originated from a fallen box. He slowly peers up and behind the cardboard container.. ..and sees a coiled mass of taut, pinkish flesh cowering against it, shivering in apparent fear. "...Hello?" The mass startles at the noise, immediately darting for the furthest corner. "P-please don't hurt me! I am fragile and weak!" it pleads in a scratchy, quavering voice. The Old Man hesitates, unsure of how to console the strange being. "Do not.. do not be alarmed. I am merely a lost wanderer, and do not intend harm." The mass lifts one of its' ends slightly, but does not uncoil. "A Wanderer? Like from the Library?" The Old Man thinks for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, I do not believe I came from a library." "Oh." The serpent lowers its' head in apparent disappointment, before raising it again. "But have you at least seen my owner?" "I do not know. What do they look like?" "Oh, he's tall, with a purple suit, and he has a mustache and a big hat with a W on it!" There's a marked enthusiasm in the creature's voice, now. The Old Man thinks for a long moment, before sighing. "No, I don't remember meeting anyone of that sort." Again the creature's head droops, this time accompanied by a quiet deluge of soft whimpering. The Old Man winces slightly, again unsure of how to console the beast. Eventually, he finds something to ask. "...May I, perhaps, know your name?" The mass's head-end lifts slightly, but remains limp. "...[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2991 Scarf]. That's what.. w-what my owner c-called me." “And how, may I ask, did you come to reside here?” “W-well, I had left that big building the white-coated people were keeping me in, a-after they had all left. A-and I tried looking everywhere for my owner’s old apartment, but I didn’t recognize where I was, and I- I still don’t..” Scarf’s speech starts to quicken in panic. “And now I’m h-hiding from those things outside, and I don’t know where my owner is, a-and I’m alone, and I’m scared, and I.. I might not ever s-see him again, and…” The fast-paced explanation quickly devolves into rather ugly crying. “..i just d-don’t know what to do…” “…Hm.” The Old Man beholds the scene, and considers for a moment, before making a decision. “Well, Scarf, I am also looking to find, well, //anyone// else who yet remains here, and it has been a rather lonesome journey for me thus far as well, so perhaps you could accompany me, for a while?” Scarf looks up from their weeping, their surface glistening with tear-trails of spinal fluid. “Y-you could help me f-find my owner?” “I suppose I could, if he has chosen to stay as well.” A moment of silence, as Scarf seems to recover from the shock. “…thank you.” “You are most welcome.” With that, Scarf slithers over to the Old Man’s legs, and is ferried up onto his neck. It’s a bit cold and spongey, but the Old Man has faced worse situations before. “I-Is this a good place for me?” Scarf asks, as they wind around the Old Man’s neck, leaving a slight stain on his clothing. “I suppose so; I’m unbothered either way.” “Ok. This was my owner’s favorite spot for me, so I hope it isn’t too itchy for you..” “It’s quite alright. Now, we should probably check if the outside is safe to traverse.” “Oh, uh, yeah, that would probably be a good idea.” With that, the pair make their way back to the front of the store, finding a thick coating of webbing plastered across the glass windows, but not a single spider in sight. It takes the Old Man a few seconds to hack away the silk holding the door closed, but he eventually clears enough to allow the duo’s exit. As soon as they’re outside, they see a vast expanse of equally thick webs stretched across the entire lower cityscape like a big cloth; it fortunately does not appear to be adhesive, but there are some seemingly dead tarantulas embedded in its surface. The Old Man carefully navigates the uneven terrain, with Scarf providing some semi-helpful tips on how to stand and where next to step, until they reach an edge where the spiders seemingly refused to advance. Setting foot on non-silken grass, the pair take a moment to reflect. The Old Man is the first to speak; “So, where did you say your ‘owner’ resided?” “Oh! I think he said it was in a place called, er, ‘Baceloena’?” “I see. We have a rather extensive trek ahead of us, then.” The Old Man turns to the sun, then to the right of it, and begins to walk. “Let us make haste.” @@ @@ = << [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-prologue\|Prologue]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub\|World Of Wolves]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-two\|Episode Two]]] >> [[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>]]	2023-02-02T23:50:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "post-apocalyptic", "tale" ]	World Of Wolves: Episode One - SCP Foundation	11	[ "world-of-wolves-prologue", "world-of-wolves-hub", "world-of-wolves-episode-two", "house-of-jacinta", "scp-2991", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "world-of-wolves-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "archived:shortest-pages-by-month-2023" ]	[]	1445865054	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-one
world-of-wolves-episode-two	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-one">Episode One</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub">World Of Wolves</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-interlude">Interlude</a> »</strong></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>1:13 A.M.</strong></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> “…so, <em>yawn,</em> how far is ‘Baceloena’ now?”</p> <p>The Old Man sighs as he trudges across the dense foliage of the forest, moving between the dead, blackened trees as Scarf asks this question for the sixth time in the past four hours.</p> <p>“Once again, we still have multiple weeks of travel ahead.”</p> <p>“Oh, ok..”</p> <p>Scarf appears to shrivel slightly, before puffing up once more.</p> <p>“Hey, can I share another story about my owner?”</p> <p>“Certainly; I enjoy hearing of his feats.” In truth, the Old Man tolerated the stories because they both were easy to tune out, and kept Scarf occupied on this otherwise quite boring trek.</p> <p>“Yay, thanks! Ok, so, he once said he rode a big firecracker all the way to the ‘Unturned Plateau’, he called it..”</p> <p>As Scarf rambled, the Old Man quietly considered… a lot of things.</p> <p>Knowing what little he did about the true state of the world, he did not hold the same conviction as Scarf did that this enigmatic “owner” would just be waiting at his house for a simple piece of winter gear.</p> <p>Beyond that apprehension, though, there was a growing concern within the Old Man’s mind, a nagging suspicion that blanketed his thoughts like the deluges of a flood:</p> <p>There was a possibility - and a rather large one, at that - that his curse might not have fully abated; that the Brothers’ wrath wouldn’t be stifled completely by a simple deal, that he would soon bring that same suffering upon his newfound companion.</p> <p>Both these thoughts shadow the Old Man as he weaves his way through the forest, clouding his vision as palpably as a high mountain blizzard.</p> <p>So preoccupied was his mind, in fact, that he does not notice the sudden, frantic motions of Scarf until they tighten around the Old Man’s neck like a wet noose, snapping him to attention.</p> <p>“<em>ack-</em> What- what is it?”</p> <p>“To the right, behind that thicket! I hear something!” Scarf quietly whispers, in contrast to their prior, chipper tone.</p> <p>The pair falls silent as the Old Man tries to listen, a challenge with how dulled his hearing has become across the ages.</p> <p>Eventually, though, he manages to catch a soft clicking noise, evidently mechanical from its even pace & sharp tone.</p> <p>Slowly, with stealth honed from centuries of practice, the Old Man sneaks right up to the thicket, and tries to peer through it, with Scarf anxiously attempting to follow suit.</p> <p>And there, in a small valley a good distance ahead, stands an eclectic trio of strange machines, their forms gleaming in the moonlight.</p> <p>The clicking comes from a bronze, wireframe automaton with an anatomy akin to a beast of burden, its head replaced by a large gear that loudly rotates in its neck-socket.</p> <p>Another machine stands close by, starkly contrasting its companion by virtue of its rectangular build, supported on a large metal stump connected to four cylindrical legs arranged in a cross-pattern.</p> <p>The third robot stands a distance away, bearing the most humanoid proportions of the group, though this did not count for much due to its lack of a head, as well as a black, rod-like right arm, a grey tube for its left, and no hands to speak of.</p> <p>What concerns the Old Man the most, however, was that all three machines appeared to be spattered in a considerable amount of dark fluid, as well as a clearer, less identifiable one.</p> <p>As the Old Man watches, the humanoid slowly rotates its torso, revealing a camera lens embedded in the center. The others moved to flank it, as a small black rod suddenly juts out of a hole in the humanoid’s shoulder.</p> <p>“…w-who.. who are those guys?” Scarf’s voice was the quietest the Old Man had ever heard it.</p> <p>“…I do not know.” The Old Man keeps his voice low as well, while still maintaining his level tone. “But I presume that they would not mean well for us.”</p> <p>“..d-do we run?”</p> <p>“That would likely draw their attention. I would suggest we instead retreat at a slow and measured pace - or, rather, <em>I</em> should do so, seeing as-”</p> <p>Suddenly, a soft breeze kicks up, blowing into the pair from behind.</p> <p>Almost immediately after, the humanoid’s antenna starts beeping with the pace & intensity of a bomb timer, and all three automatons rapidly maneuver themselves to face the thicket.</p> <p>“…Never mind, their attention has been drawn, and I suggest we run.”</p> <p>With that, the Old Man breaks into a sprint as Scarf clings to his neck with a vice-like grip, and the forest fills with whirrs and clanks as the machines give chase.</p> <p>On his right, the bronze robot gallops through the brush as two long, jointed arms unfold from its sides; one bearing a pair of stained shears on its end, and the other a long, hollow, equally stained rod.</p> <p>He veers to the left, only to see an array of black, pointed tendrils snaking between the trees, all leading back to the rectangular robot.</p> <p>Said robot’s front has opened like a fridge to reveal a human-shaped hole at the center of its interior, with a large concentration of what is definitely blood near the head area.</p> <p>The Old Man moves back towards the right, only for Scarf to shriek and yank his neck downwards as he hears a loud snap where his head just was.</p> <p>The shears retract back toward their owner, before lunging for the Old Man’s arm, which he pulls away in time to only tear his coat.</p> <p>The tendrils then start closing in, and the Old Man has to veer towards the bronze robot to avoid being snagged.</p> <p>The shears move again, and with every clean dodge the Old Man achieves, there is an instance where metal grazes his skin, leaving clean, linear wounds.</p> <p>Scarf is, at this point, coiling so tightly around the Old Man’s neck that it’s slightly asphyxiating, their only speech being soft whimpering.</p> <p>It’s at this point that the Old Man has the brilliant idea of stopping dead, and then sprinting right; his two pursuers keep forward long enough for him to gain considerable ground before they stop to reorient.</p> <p>The Old Man allows himself a small, silent chuckle, for somehow retaining enough stamina after all this time to be able to outwit pursuers so smoothly.</p> <p>This confidence fades when he realizes he hasn’t seen the humanoid robot at all, and then vanishes entirely when said robot shoves hard into his right side, sending him tumbling across the dirt into the trunk of a tree.</p> <p>Scarf unspools from The Old Man’s neck and tries to hastily slither away, but their pace slows as the robot’s tube-arm whirrs to life. The detritus of the forest is sucked in with force, and Scarf has to wrap around a tree branch to avoid following suit.</p> <p>Roused by the noise, the Old Man manages to shakily rise, in time to watch as the robot’s other arm somehow splits into two thinner arms, despite lacking a seam.</p> <p>The ends of both new arms each then start blurrily morphing as if sped up in a timelapse; the bottom one settling into a white, plasticine claw, and the top into a smooth, circular saw-blade of identical color.</p> <p>Before the Old Man can react, the claw wraps around his throat, pinning him to the tree behind. He tries to remove it, but the metal of the arm is too slick and oily.</p> <p>The robot walks forward, keeping its tube-arm trained on Scarf, whose grip is evidently starting to fail. Their screams are drowned out by the sound of the vacuum.</p> <p>The robot’s saw moves forward, orienting itself to be perpendicular to the Old Man’s forehead, just above his eyes. It moves in slowly, with medical precision, the camera-eye watching impassively as the Old Man desperately attempts to both free himself and hold the blade away.</p> <p>Said blades closes to three inches away, then two..</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> One…<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>thud</em></p> <p>The saw stops a fourth of an inch from the Old Man’s skin.</p> <p><em>thud thud thud</em></p> <p>The robot’s torso turns to its right, thankfully moving the saw away, but keeping the claw around the Old Man’s throat.</p> <p><em>thud thud THUD THUD THUD</em></p> <p>The Old Man also directs his gaze in the direction of the distant, heavy impacts, and notices a large figure lumbering out from the darkness.</p> <p><em>THUD THUD THUD THUD</em></p> <p>As it approaches, the figure’s shape becomes identifiable as humanoid, and its movement becomes identifiable as a full sprint.</p> <p><strong><em>CRUNCH</em></strong></p> <p>The robot barely has time to back away slightly before a large, stone foot slams into its midsection, releasing the Old Man as the automaton careens through the air, right into the trunk of another tree.</p> <p>The Old Man looks up at his savior, now identifiable as a giant statue of a monkey, constructed from a gray, cement-like substance; clad in carved garments of seemingly Ancient Chinese design, and sporting a large, intricately carved pillar upon its back, held in place by its tail.</p> <p>Scarf, now freed from the vacuum’s pull, shakily slithers back onto the Old Man’s neck, covered in soil and foliage.</p> <p>The statue pays both no mind, as it turns its attention to the other two robots, who charge forth from the brush (or reach forth, in one’s case).</p> <p>The bronze one darts haphazardly across the forest floor, loping around the left of the statue, and beelining for the Old Man & Scarf, both shears & chute bared.</p> <p>The statue - in one fluid, frighteningly quick motion - turns, pulls the pillar from its back, and brings it down upon both the quadruped’s extended arms, stopping it dead a mere foot from the shellshocked pair.</p> <p>With its other hand, the statue pulls the struggling robot away, dismembering both of the arms in the process, before crushing the bronze frame of the machine’s body within the monkey’s massive palm.</p> <p>The robot’s broken corpse falls stiff to the earth, seemingly bleeding a grey, gelatinous substance in addition to actual blood.</p> <p>The Old Man barely manages to comprehend the entire sequence before he feels something wrap around his ankles, and then yank his legs out from under him.</p> <p>More black tendrils wrap around both him, a fleeing Scarf, and the monkey statue, as the boxy robot slowly ambles forward, a harsh thrumming emanating from its open, bloodied interior as the Old Man is slowly dragged closer.</p> <p>With an oddly calm pace, the statue drops its pillar, reaches behind to grab several tendrils with one hand, and pulls, placing the extra length into its other hand before repeating.</p> <p>Eventually, there’s a loud thud from the inside of the box, and it subsequently topples over onto its front.</p> <p>The Old Man watches as the automaton is pulled right up to the back of the statue, and then winces as the giant then smoothly falls backwards, directly onto the robots’ immobilized form.</p> <p>The tendrils holding the Old Man spasm slightly before going limp, and he rises once more as the statue rolls off of the crushed box, the once mostly-spotless cement skin now layered with dark, gritty stains.</p> <p>A soft, erratic beeping draws the attention of both to the humanoid, which is struggling to rise from the dark puddle at the base of the trunk where it impacted, its bottom half almost perpendicular to its upper.</p> <p>The automaton’s cracked camera-eye gazes up with seeming resentment as the statue ambles over to it, before the beeping falls silent as a bare stone foot pushes the robot’s plasticine chest into the soaked dirt, before cracking all the way through.</p> <p>The Old Man watches, Scarf coiled around his arm, as the statue retrieves its pillar, and secures it back under its tail, before turning to face the pair.</p> <p>Slowly, almost cautiously, the statue approaches, its hands raised in an apparent show of non-hostility.</p> <p>Eventually, it kneels on one leg before the pair, its face set in a beaming, toothy smile.</p> <p>Scarf is the first of the pair to speak up, in a meek, shivering cadence:</p> <p>“…erm, h-hello, Mr. G-Giant Monkey Man! Th-th-th-thank you for saving us from.. from those mean r-rrobot guys.”</p> <p>A moment of silence, as the pair stare up at the unmoving monolith.</p> <p>“…s-so, could we m-maybe, uh.. know some- some things about you?”</p> <p>More silence.</p> <p>“I- I mean, it’s okay if.. if you don’t want t- <em>eep!”</em></p> <p>Scarf is interrupted by a steady grinding noise, as the monkey’s jaw slowly opens, revealing a solid wall behind, save for an rectangular inset…</p> <p>…bearing a digital phone.</p> <p>After another brief pause, the phone’s screen flashes to life, and the white outline of a top hat fades in over a blank, black background.</p> <p>A pair of white ovals then appear within the outline, spanning the hat’s whole height, followed by two black “pupils” the size of pinholes, which then “focus” upon the Old Man & Scarf.</p> <p><tt>oh hello there new buddies!!</tt></p> <p>The voice is sudden, loud, and grating, with a quality the Old Man finds hard to describe, but <em>very</em> easy to recognize.</p> <p>The noise almost sends Scarf off the Old Man’s neck, which seems to amuse the hat-being.</p> <p><tt>aw did i scare you sorry teehee XD</tt></p> <p>Now it is the Old Man’s turn to speak “Who.. what are you?”</p> <p>The hat-thing’s eyes momentarily turn to upside-down “V”s.</p> <p><tt>oh right i should introduce myself. my name is <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2522" target="_blank">hatbot</a>, but most call me an asshat haha</tt></p> <p>The sound of drums & cymbals, tainted with a certain grittiness.</p> <p>“…Right. And may we know why you are here, in this..”</p> <p>The Old Man struggles to find the words to describe the statue.</p> <p>“…this giant monkey man?”</p> <p><tt>oh right, that</tt></p> <p><tt>hang on let me get the script</tt></p> <p>“Hatbot’s” eyes look to the right, at some unseen object within their own world.</p> <p><tt>it’s just under these prayers one sec</tt></p> <p>The sound of rustling papers, also bearing that same grit, and repeating every four seconds.</p> <p><tt>man, fat lot of good these did. WAN probably wasn't even real lol</tt></p> <p><tt>that or the Haven killed him. them. it? i wouldn't know, never answered my calls :]</tt></p> <p>The Old Man has a momentary double-take.</p> <p>“Wait, you have knowledge on th-“</p> <p><tt>found it</tt></p> <p>The rustling ceases, and Hatbot’s pupils recenter, but at the bottom of the eyes, as if looking down at something in its’ own world.</p> <p><tt>alright gotta get my speech voice back in shape</tt></p> <p>A throat clearing, followed by gargling, then a sneeze, and then a coughing fit.</p> <p><tt>sorry xp</tt></p> <p>When Hatbot next speaks, it’s in a deep & baritone dialect, entirely dissimilar to its voice prior.</p> <p><tt><em>“By the request of President <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1474" target="_blank">Xiu Lidao</a>, Great Sage, Equal of Heaven, and leader of the Twelve Galaxies Coalition, you are invited to join the new society of Earth, as defined by its new citizens. We will provide shelter, supplies, and support, in exchange for your cooperation. We hope you will take this offer.</em> In Solidarity We Are United.”</tt></p> <p>Another throat clearing, before Hatbot returns to their prior voice.</p> <p><tt>the president part’s where he got this statue from, btw. subsumed the position a few weeks ago, now <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2762" target="_blank">twenty-seven-whatever-the-fuck</a> is his own personal pet</tt></p> <p><tt>it is better than the snakes were, though, i’ll give the Haven that lolol</tt></p> <p>“So you know what the Haven of Man is?” The Old Man interrupts.</p> <p>A moment of silence.</p> <p><tt>… if i say we do you’ll come see my boss right < — <</tt></p> <p>The Old Man thinks, for a moment, his brow furrowing in thoughtful apprehension.</p> <p>Scarf looks between him & Hatbot, before whispering in the Old Man’s ear.</p> <p>“…what’s a ‘haven of man’?”</p> <p>“I suppose we may both know soon enough, if we agree to follow this strange hat-being, but..”</p> <p>“…but what?” Scarf’s voice belies their confusion.</p> <p>“..I… ..I fear as though..”</p> <p>“…as though, i-if we partake in this offer, we will not reach your owner’s abode.” the Old Man’s speech is hasty, entirely unlike his prior eloquence.</p> <p>“Oh, that’s true; Baceloena <em>is</em> still very far away.” Scarf’s head-end seems to wobble, as if in thought.</p> <p><tt>… you know i’m still right here T _ T</tt></p> <p>The two turn back to Hatbot, as the icon’s pupils flick between the pair.</p> <p><tt>well good news</tt></p> <p><tt>one of the things we have is a bunch of doors that can lead anywhere</tt></p> <p><tt>maybe one of those is next to *Barcelona</tt></p> <p><tt>sorry couldn’t resist :P</tt></p> <p>“Couldn’t resist what?”</p> <p><tt>nothing dw ;)</tt></p> <p><tt>anyway join us please we’re kind of desperate for any help because the brain-stealer attacks have been happening for weeks now and</tt></p> <p>Hatbot suddenly cuts off, looking into the distance.</p> <p><tt>speak of the devil</tt></p> <p><tt>wait is that a phrase people still use</tt></p> <p><tt>… eh who cares world’s already ended haha</tt></p> <p>Hatbot’s eyes refocus, now with a humored expression.</p> <p><tt>welp, seems like the choice has been made for you</tt></p> <p><tt>i suggest you follow us, if you’d like to keep your brain in your skull</tt></p> <p>Hatbot takes a moment to eye up Scarf.</p> <p><tt>or as your body, that would work too @ v @</tt></p> <p><tt>anyways see ya</tt></p> <p><tt><sub>… hey, that’s your cue to go, man <~<;</sub></tt></p> <p>The statue’s jaw suddenly closes, before it calmly rises from its kneel and begins walking back in the direction from where it had arrived.</p> <p>The Old Man & Scarf watch in its wake, before the former looks to their carrier.</p> <p>“…should we follow him?” Scarf’s voice indicates they have recovered slightly, though not completely.</p> <p>“…I suppose we could, but if that strange hat-being is to be believed, then there is in fact a larger society of my fellows, and I fear that if I am brought to them…”</p> <p>The Old Man trails off, but the implications evade Scarf.</p> <p>“..B-but, he said he had a shortcut to Bacelona! We can probably at least check!” There’s an air of desperation in Scarf’s voice, mixed with the indignity of a child.</p> <p>“Well, that could be a dishonest ploy on his part, and we cannot waste travel time if we could help it.”</p> <p>The Old Man starts walking, only to be halted as Scarf wraps around a nearby piece of foliage.</p> <p>“No, come on, we can spare the time, I’m sure!”</p> <p>Scarf’s grip is firm and unyielding, and the Old Man has to temper his strength to avoid ripping the nerve cluster in two.</p> <p>“No, I am certain that we cannot, and I request you cease this immature behavior.” The Old Man’s cannot help but let annoyance slip into his cadence.</p> <p>“No, no, I want to see!” Scarf’s voice is shrill and impotent, as they tighten their hold at both ends.</p> <p>This back-and-forth continues for a while, before the Old Man pauses, suddenly acutely aware.</p> <p>“…Say, do you hear that?”</p> <p>Scarf also quiets down, and the two listen as the distant sound of marching becomes audible.</p> <p>Lights suddenly dot the distant treeline, each one artificial, and all steadily growing in luminosity.</p> <p>The Old Man sighs.</p> <p>“Well, then; thanks to your efforts, our agency in this matter seems to have been revoked.”</p> <p>“…Yeah, I guess so.” Scarf uncoils from the branch, and stares off into the horde of the horizon.</p> <p>“…we should be going now, right?”</p> <p>“Most likely.”</p> <p>And thus, they make haste.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>« <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-one">Episode One</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub">World Of Wolves</a> \|=\| <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-interlude">Interlude</a> »</strong></p> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] = << [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-one\|Episode One]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub\|World Of Wolves]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-interlude\|Interlude]]] >> @@ @@ = 1:13 A.M. @@ @@ “…so, //yawn,// how far is ‘Baceloena’ now?” The Old Man sighs as he trudges across the dense foliage of the forest, moving between the dead, blackened trees as Scarf asks this question for the sixth time in the past four hours. “Once again, we still have multiple weeks of travel ahead.” “Oh, ok..” Scarf appears to shrivel slightly, before puffing up once more. “Hey, can I share another story about my owner?” “Certainly; I enjoy hearing of his feats.” In truth, the Old Man tolerated the stories because they both were easy to tune out, and kept Scarf occupied on this otherwise quite boring trek. “Yay, thanks! Ok, so, he once said he rode a big firecracker all the way to the ‘Unturned Plateau’, he called it..” As Scarf rambled, the Old Man quietly considered… a lot of things. Knowing what little he did about the true state of the world, he did not hold the same conviction as Scarf did that this enigmatic “owner” would just be waiting at his house for a simple piece of winter gear. Beyond that apprehension, though, there was a growing concern within the Old Man’s mind, a nagging suspicion that blanketed his thoughts like the deluges of a flood: There was a possibility - and a rather large one, at that - that his curse might not have fully abated; that the Brothers’ wrath wouldn’t be stifled completely by a simple deal, that he would soon bring that same suffering upon his newfound companion. Both these thoughts shadow the Old Man as he weaves his way through the forest, clouding his vision as palpably as a high mountain blizzard. So preoccupied was his mind, in fact, that he does not notice the sudden, frantic motions of Scarf until they tighten around the Old Man’s neck like a wet noose, snapping him to attention. “//ack-// What- what is it?” “To the right, behind that thicket! I hear something!” Scarf quietly whispers, in contrast to their prior, chipper tone. The pair falls silent as the Old Man tries to listen, a challenge with how dulled his hearing has become across the ages. Eventually, though, he manages to catch a soft clicking noise, evidently mechanical from its even pace & sharp tone. Slowly, with stealth honed from centuries of practice, the Old Man sneaks right up to the thicket, and tries to peer through it, with Scarf anxiously attempting to follow suit. And there, in a small valley a good distance ahead, stands an eclectic trio of strange machines, their forms gleaming in the moonlight. The clicking comes from a bronze, wireframe automaton with an anatomy akin to a beast of burden, its head replaced by a large gear that loudly rotates in its neck-socket. Another machine stands close by, starkly contrasting its companion by virtue of its rectangular build, supported on a large metal stump connected to four cylindrical legs arranged in a cross-pattern. The third robot stands a distance away, bearing the most humanoid proportions of the group, though this did not count for much due to its lack of a head, as well as a black, rod-like right arm, a grey tube for its left, and no hands to speak of. What concerns the Old Man the most, however, was that all three machines appeared to be spattered in a considerable amount of dark fluid, as well as a clearer, less identifiable one. As the Old Man watches, the humanoid slowly rotates its torso, revealing a camera lens embedded in the center. The others moved to flank it, as a small black rod suddenly juts out of a hole in the humanoid’s shoulder. “…w-who.. who are those guys?” Scarf’s voice was the quietest the Old Man had ever heard it. “…I do not know.” The Old Man keeps his voice low as well, while still maintaining his level tone. “But I presume that they would not mean well for us.” “..d-do we run?” “That would likely draw their attention. I would suggest we instead retreat at a slow and measured pace - or, rather, //I// should do so, seeing as-” Suddenly, a soft breeze kicks up, blowing into the pair from behind. Almost immediately after, the humanoid’s antenna starts beeping with the pace & intensity of a bomb timer, and all three automatons rapidly maneuver themselves to face the thicket. “…Never mind, their attention has been drawn, and I suggest we run.” With that, the Old Man breaks into a sprint as Scarf clings to his neck with a vice-like grip, and the forest fills with whirrs and clanks as the machines give chase. On his right, the bronze robot gallops through the brush as two long, jointed arms unfold from its sides; one bearing a pair of stained shears on its end, and the other a long, hollow, equally stained rod. He veers to the left, only to see an array of black, pointed tendrils snaking between the trees, all leading back to the rectangular robot. Said robot’s front has opened like a fridge to reveal a human-shaped hole at the center of its interior, with a large concentration of what is definitely blood near the head area. The Old Man moves back towards the right, only for Scarf to shriek and yank his neck downwards as he hears a loud snap where his head just was. The shears retract back toward their owner, before lunging for the Old Man’s arm, which he pulls away in time to only tear his coat. The tendrils then start closing in, and the Old Man has to veer towards the bronze robot to avoid being snagged. The shears move again, and with every clean dodge the Old Man achieves, there is an instance where metal grazes his skin, leaving clean, linear wounds. Scarf is, at this point, coiling so tightly around the Old Man’s neck that it’s slightly asphyxiating, their only speech being soft whimpering. It’s at this point that the Old Man has the brilliant idea of stopping dead, and then sprinting right; his two pursuers keep forward long enough for him to gain considerable ground before they stop to reorient. The Old Man allows himself a small, silent chuckle, for somehow retaining enough stamina after all this time to be able to outwit pursuers so smoothly. This confidence fades when he realizes he hasn’t seen the humanoid robot at all, and then vanishes entirely when said robot shoves hard into his right side, sending him tumbling across the dirt into the trunk of a tree. Scarf unspools from The Old Man’s neck and tries to hastily slither away, but their pace slows as the robot’s tube-arm whirrs to life. The detritus of the forest is sucked in with force, and Scarf has to wrap around a tree branch to avoid following suit. Roused by the noise, the Old Man manages to shakily rise, in time to watch as the robot’s other arm somehow splits into two thinner arms, despite lacking a seam. The ends of both new arms each then start blurrily morphing as if sped up in a timelapse; the bottom one settling into a white, plasticine claw, and the top into a smooth, circular saw-blade of identical color. Before the Old Man can react, the claw wraps around his throat, pinning him to the tree behind. He tries to remove it, but the metal of the arm is too slick and oily. The robot walks forward, keeping its tube-arm trained on Scarf, whose grip is evidently starting to fail. Their screams are drowned out by the sound of the vacuum. The robot’s saw moves forward, orienting itself to be perpendicular to the Old Man’s forehead, just above his eyes. It moves in slowly, with medical precision, the camera-eye watching impassively as the Old Man desperately attempts to both free himself and hold the blade away. Said blades closes to three inches away, then two.. @@ @@ One… @@ @@ //thud// The saw stops a fourth of an inch from the Old Man’s skin. //thud thud thud// The robot’s torso turns to its right, thankfully moving the saw away, but keeping the claw around the Old Man’s throat. //thud thud THUD THUD THUD// The Old Man also directs his gaze in the direction of the distant, heavy impacts, and notices a large figure lumbering out from the darkness. //THUD THUD THUD THUD// As it approaches, the figure’s shape becomes identifiable as humanoid, and its movement becomes identifiable as a full sprint. //CRUNCH// The robot barely has time to back away slightly before a large, stone foot slams into its midsection, releasing the Old Man as the automaton careens through the air, right into the trunk of another tree. The Old Man looks up at his savior, now identifiable as a giant statue of a monkey, constructed from a gray, cement-like substance; clad in carved garments of seemingly Ancient Chinese design, and sporting a large, intricately carved pillar upon its back, held in place by its tail. Scarf, now freed from the vacuum’s pull, shakily slithers back onto the Old Man’s neck, covered in soil and foliage. The statue pays both no mind, as it turns its attention to the other two robots, who charge forth from the brush (or reach forth, in one’s case). The bronze one darts haphazardly across the forest floor, loping around the left of the statue, and beelining for the Old Man & Scarf, both shears & chute bared. The statue - in one fluid, frighteningly quick motion - turns, pulls the pillar from its back, and brings it down upon both the quadruped’s extended arms, stopping it dead a mere foot from the shellshocked pair. With its other hand, the statue pulls the struggling robot away, dismembering both of the arms in the process, before crushing the bronze frame of the machine’s body within the monkey’s massive palm. The robot’s broken corpse falls stiff to the earth, seemingly bleeding a grey, gelatinous substance in addition to actual blood. The Old Man barely manages to comprehend the entire sequence before he feels something wrap around his ankles, and then yank his legs out from under him. More black tendrils wrap around both him, a fleeing Scarf, and the monkey statue, as the boxy robot slowly ambles forward, a harsh thrumming emanating from its open, bloodied interior as the Old Man is slowly dragged closer. With an oddly calm pace, the statue drops its pillar, reaches behind to grab several tendrils with one hand, and pulls, placing the extra length into its other hand before repeating. Eventually, there’s a loud thud from the inside of the box, and it subsequently topples over onto its front. The Old Man watches as the automaton is pulled right up to the back of the statue, and then winces as the giant then smoothly falls backwards, directly onto the robots’ immobilized form. The tendrils holding the Old Man spasm slightly before going limp, and he rises once more as the statue rolls off of the crushed box, the once mostly-spotless cement skin now layered with dark, gritty stains. A soft, erratic beeping draws the attention of both to the humanoid, which is struggling to rise from the dark puddle at the base of the trunk where it impacted, its bottom half almost perpendicular to its upper. The automaton’s cracked camera-eye gazes up with seeming resentment as the statue ambles over to it, before the beeping falls silent as a bare stone foot pushes the robot’s plasticine chest into the soaked dirt, before cracking all the way through. The Old Man watches, Scarf coiled around his arm, as the statue retrieves its pillar, and secures it back under its tail, before turning to face the pair. Slowly, almost cautiously, the statue approaches, its hands raised in an apparent show of non-hostility. Eventually, it kneels on one leg before the pair, its face set in a beaming, toothy smile. Scarf is the first of the pair to speak up, in a meek, shivering cadence: “…erm, h-hello, Mr. G-Giant Monkey Man! Th-th-th-thank you for saving us from.. from those mean r-rrobot guys.” A moment of silence, as the pair stare up at the unmoving monolith. “…s-so, could we m-maybe, uh.. know some- some things about you?” More silence. “I- I mean, it’s okay if.. if you don’t want t- //eep!”// Scarf is interrupted by a steady grinding noise, as the monkey’s jaw slowly opens, revealing a solid wall behind, save for an rectangular inset… …bearing a digital phone. After another brief pause, the phone’s screen flashes to life, and the white outline of a top hat fades in over a blank, black background. A pair of white ovals then appear within the outline, spanning the hat’s whole height, followed by two black “pupils” the size of pinholes, which then “focus” upon the Old Man & Scarf. {{ oh hello there new buddies!! }} The voice is sudden, loud, and grating, with a quality the Old Man finds hard to describe, but //very// easy to recognize. The noise almost sends Scarf off the Old Man’s neck, which seems to amuse the hat-being. {{ aw did i scare you sorry teehee XD }} Now it is the Old Man’s turn to speak “Who.. what are you?” The hat-thing’s eyes momentarily turn to upside-down “V”s. {{ oh right i should introduce myself. my name is [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2522 hatbot], but most call me an asshat haha }} The sound of drums & cymbals, tainted with a certain grittiness. “…Right. And may we know why you are here, in this..” The Old Man struggles to find the words to describe the statue. “…this giant monkey man?” {{ oh right, that }} {{ hang on let me get the script }} “Hatbot’s” eyes look to the right, at some unseen object within their own world. {{ it’s just under these prayers one sec }} The sound of rustling papers, also bearing that same grit, and repeating every four seconds. {{ man, fat lot of good these did. WAN probably wasn't even real lol }} {{ that or the Haven killed him. them. it? i wouldn't know, never answered my calls :] }} The Old Man has a momentary double-take. “Wait, you have knowledge on th-“ {{ found it }} The rustling ceases, and Hatbot’s pupils recenter, but at the bottom of the eyes, as if looking down at something in its’ own world. {{ alright gotta get my speech voice back in shape }} A throat clearing, followed by gargling, then a sneeze, and then a coughing fit. {{ sorry xp }} When Hatbot next speaks, it’s in a deep & baritone dialect, entirely dissimilar to its voice prior. {{ //“By the request of President [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1474 Xiu Lidao], Great Sage, Equal of Heaven, and leader of the Twelve Galaxies Coalition, you are invited to join the new society of Earth, as defined by its new citizens. We will provide shelter, supplies, and support, in exchange for your cooperation. We hope you will take this offer.// In Solidarity We Are United.” }} Another throat clearing, before Hatbot returns to their prior voice. {{ the president part’s where he got this statue from, btw. subsumed the position a few weeks ago, now [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2762 twenty-seven-whatever-the-fuck] is his own personal pet }} {{ it is better than the snakes were, though, i’ll give the Haven that lolol }} “So you know what the Haven of Man is?” The Old Man interrupts. A moment of silence. {{ . . . if i say we do you’ll come see my boss right < — < }} The Old Man thinks, for a moment, his brow furrowing in thoughtful apprehension. Scarf looks between him & Hatbot, before whispering in the Old Man’s ear. “…what’s a ‘haven of man’?” “I suppose we may both know soon enough, if we agree to follow this strange hat-being, but..” “…but what?” Scarf’s voice belies their confusion. “..I… ..I fear as though..” “…as though, i-if we partake in this offer, we will not reach your owner’s abode.” the Old Man’s speech is hasty, entirely unlike his prior eloquence. “Oh, that’s true; Baceloena //is// still very far away.” Scarf’s head-end seems to wobble, as if in thought. {{ . . . you know i’m still right here T _ T }} The two turn back to Hatbot, as the icon’s pupils flick between the pair. {{ well good news }} {{ one of the things we have is a bunch of doors that can lead anywhere }} {{ maybe one of those is next to Barcelona }} {{ sorry couldn’t resist :P }} “Couldn’t resist what?” {{ nothing dw ;) }} {{ anyway join us please we’re kind of desperate for any help because the brain-stealer attacks have been happening for weeks now and }} Hatbot suddenly cuts off, looking into the distance. {{ speak of the devil }} {{ wait is that a phrase people still use }} {{ . . . eh who cares world’s already ended haha }} Hatbot’s eyes refocus, now with a humored expression. {{ welp, seems like the choice has been made for you }} {{ i suggest you follow us, if you’d like to keep your brain in your skull }} Hatbot takes a moment to eye up Scarf. {{ or as your body, that would work too @ v @ }} {{ anyways see ya }} {{ ,,. . . hey, that’s your cue to go, man <~<;,, }} The statue’s jaw suddenly closes, before it calmly rises from its kneel and begins walking back in the direction from where it had arrived. The Old Man & Scarf watch in its wake, before the former looks to their carrier. “…should we follow him?” Scarf’s voice indicates they have recovered slightly, though not completely. “…I suppose we could, but if that strange hat-being is to be believed, then there is in fact a larger society of my fellows, and I fear that if I am brought to them…” The Old Man trails off, but the implications evade Scarf. “..B-but, he said he had a shortcut to Bacelona! We can probably at least check!” There’s an air of desperation in Scarf’s voice, mixed with the indignity of a child. “Well, that could be a dishonest ploy on his part, and we cannot waste travel time if we could help it.” The Old Man starts walking, only to be halted as Scarf wraps around a nearby piece of foliage. “No, come on, we can spare the time, I’m sure!” Scarf’s grip is firm and unyielding, and the Old Man has to temper his strength to avoid ripping the nerve cluster in two. “No, I am certain that we cannot, and I request you cease this immature behavior.” The Old Man’s cannot help but let annoyance slip into his cadence. “No, no, I want to see!” Scarf’s voice is shrill and impotent, as they tighten their hold at both ends. This back-and-forth continues for a while, before the Old Man pauses, suddenly acutely aware. “…Say, do you hear that?” Scarf also quiets down, and the two listen as the distant sound of marching becomes audible. Lights suddenly dot the distant treeline, each one artificial, and all steadily growing in luminosity. The Old Man sighs. “Well, then; thanks to your efforts, our agency in this matter seems to have been revoked.” “…Yeah, I guess so.” Scarf uncoils from the branch, and stares off into the horde of the horizon. “…we should be going now, right?” “Most likely.” And thus, they make haste. = << [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-one\|Episode One]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-hub\|World Of Wolves]]] \|=\| [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-interlude\|Interlude]]] >>	2023-07-16T22:17:00	[ "adventure", "post-apocalyptic", "tale" ]	World Of Wolves: Episode Two - SCP Foundation	6	[ "world-of-wolves-episode-one", "world-of-wolves-hub", "world-of-wolves-interlude", "scp-2522", "scp-1474", "scp-2762" ]	[ "world-of-wolves-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1449057266	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/world-of-wolves-episode-two
yellow-tale	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div style="border:dotted 3px #b31e00; background: #2c2c2c; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; color:black"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h4 id="toc0"><span><span style="color: #e62700">Content Warning:</span></span></h4> <p><strong><span style="color: #e62700">Explicit descriptions of transphobia, sexism, homophobia, antisemitism, and physical, emotional and verbal abuse.</span></strong><br/> <em><span style="color: #858585">— fairydoctor</span></em></p> </div> </div> <div class="crom-thumbnail" style="display: none;"> <div class="scp-image-block block-right" style="width:300px;"><img alt="yellow-rose2.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/yellow-tale/yellow-rose2.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>{$caption}</p> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=1&theme=https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/basalt/normalize-min.css&css={$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> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><span style="text-decoration: underline;">September 10, 2022</span></p> <p>Mordecai slipped his binder on over his head, reached for a dress shirt, and buttoned it. He observed himself in the mirror: black dress pants, plain dark brown belt, navy blue shirt (with little white stars and a red collar), and nice brown leather shoes. He sighed and hoped it would be unassuming enough for them and would act as an olive branch. Approaching a bookshelf, Mordecai retrieved a plain, black leather kippah. He walked back to the mirror. Standing next to the mirror was his white rabbit, a servitor, Hal. She glowered at Mordecai, unblinking eyes, judging him.</p> <p>"I'm aware, but this is a them problem."</p> <p>Hal stood on her hind legs, twisting her head from side to side. Her blank stare observing Mordecai carefully.</p> <p>"My sister asked me to come. I'm not going for anyone but her, and she doesn't have an issue with this." He gestured to himself.</p> <p>Hal got back on all fours and hopped away. Mordecai again looked at himself in the mirror. He placed the kippah on his head and while affixing it he sang: "<em>Shema Israel, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad!</em>"</p> <p>Taking a deep breath in, he visualized breathing in gold threads.</p> <p>He slowly exhaled.</p> <p>Deep breath in.</p> <p>Slow exhale.</p> <p>Silence.</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></p> <p>Then suddenly, his phone buzzed.</p> <p>"That's Rose!" he said to no one in particular, since Hal had hopped into the other room. He checked his phone and read out loud, "im outside".</p> <p>He sighed deeply again, "I'll be back later Hal. Please don't wreck the apartment," and left.</p> <hr/> <p>The ride out to the countryside with Rose and her sons was longer than Mordecai expected. The topics of conversation were old high school friends and their families, recent movies watched, romantic affairs, and the recent fight Mordecai had with his mother.</p> <p>"So, we're still goin' to your parents' house after the shower?" Rose asked as they turned down another dirt road.</p> <p>"Yea, that's what we agreed on—"</p> <hr/> <p>They arrived at the small venue. A large elk statue stood menacingly outside the venue. The placard below read, "Clear Creek Club est. 1979". The brass statue was dark green and the elk's antlers were dulled from decades of hostile, 'Great Lakes' weather.</p> <p>Mordecai, Rose, and her two sons put on their masks as they entered the venue. A few of Mordecai's relatives stood near the front door. The relatives shifted nervously, and gave Mordecai soured looks as he walked by them. The building was packed, and no guest other than Mordecai's party wore masks. Fox News was on all the screens. Thankfully, the TVs were muted and closed captioned. Yellow streamers and paper cut outs of barn yard animals and sunflowers decorated the hall.</p> <p>His sister sat in the corner chatting with a close friend. Cait noticed her brother entering and stood to greet him.</p> <p>"Mordecai! Thought you weren't coming! Can I give you a hug?" She wore a soft, yellow sundress.</p> <p>Mordecai had a thought, <em>She just had Covid, but if I can hug only one person it's her.</em></p> <p>"Of course I'd come!" They embraced and Mordecai's eyes began to dampen. He held back his tears.</p> <p>They released, and Mordecai exclaimed, "Congratulations, Cait!" He noticed that Cait was wearing her sunflower patterned hearing aids today.</p> <p>"Thank you! Let me show you Sally." Cait led Mordecai, Rose, and her sons, to the table in the corner. "Sally is a friend from school. She's helped a lot with decorations."</p> <p>Mordecai's eyes dampened again.</p> <p><em>Dont cry…</em></p> <p>Cait knew the sex of her child, but opted to have a neutral gender baby shower. She only had the "gender reveal party" on account of their mother, Eliza.</p> <p>Where was sh-</p> <p>"Marla— MORDECAI!!"</p> <p>Jolted out of his thoughts, he turned toward the voice. Quickly approaching him with arms splayed wide was a skeleton figure, wearing a grotesque, red mask.</p> <p>"Don't I get a hug?"</p> <p><em>Mom.</em></p> <p>She stopped in front of Mordecai with a large, fake grin. Mordecai felt all eyes from the venue watching him. Judging him. Glaring at 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><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>"No."</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></p> <p>Silence fell over the venue. Mordecai and his mom locked eyes. She had not moved from her stance, arms still held wide. Peeking out from under her blouse, Mordecai could see the cord to her scapular. Another moment of silence passed, Mordecai's mother slowly put her arms down. Her fake grin faded, she huffed and left to greet another table.</p> <p>His face was cold and clammy, and sweat rolled down the back of his neck. When the venue resumed chatting, Mordecai turned to Rose and whispered, "Did I do the right thing?"</p> <p>She paused, "I- I don't know."</p> <p>They both sat in silence for a moment. Cait and Sally had moved on to a conversation about Cait's cows. A commercial came on on the screens and distracted Mordecai. A commercial for men's deodorant, an elk running through the snow in the woods. Nostrils flaring, he huffed.</p> <p>Mordecai shook his head and regained focus from the stupor.</p> <p>Rose continued, "I don't force my kids to hug if they don't want to."</p> <p>Mordecai nodded his head defeated. He knew there would be some recourse with his parents. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his parents quietly arguing near the door. A moment later, his mom angrily left the venue. Mordecai sighed.</p> <hr/> <p>Time passed, and dinner was announced. Rose said to Mordecai, "Let's go first, and you can follow behind; so, it doesn't look like I'm your chaperone."</p> <p>"Kinda fucked up that I need a chaperone," Mordecai mumbled. Rose nodded slowly as she stood. Her and her sons approached the dinner line, and Mordecai quickly followed. He also avoided getting close to a few relatives that had been giving him cold glares since he entered the building.</p> <p>His step-father stumbled by him and grunted, "Ma's gettin' your stuff."</p> <p>Mordecai nodded nervously.</p> <p>The step-father shuffled by Rose and Mordecai and muttered, "—fruit loop."</p> <p>After a few moments, Rose asked "What was that?"</p> <p>"Mom's bringing my boxes here." Mordecai stated, "At least we don't have to go over to their house after this."</p> <p>He choked back tears and tried to convince himself that he misheard the last thing.</p> <p>At the counter, Mordecai requested tubberware. The cook was a long time friend of Mordecai's step-father. He said nothing and looked enraged. Rose gently repeated what Mordecai said, the cook huffed and handed Mordecai a small tub of tubberware. Mordecai thanked him and moved further down the line.</p> <p>Sauerkraut with sausage, green beans with bacon, fried chicken (questionable), mashed potatoes… the potatoes were the safest option. Mordecai sighed and spooned some mashed potatoes in his tubberware and followed Rose out of the kitchen.</p> <p>They returned to their tables. Sally asked Mordecai, "What is it that you do again for a living?"</p> <p>Mordecai hated this question.</p> <p>"I work at a research facility near Bay City. I signed a non-disclosure agreement with them."</p> <p>"Yeah, but what do you do?"</p> <p>Mordecai stifled a laugh, "I can show you."</p> <p>"Sure?"</p> <p>He stood up and approached Sally. "I'm going to do a magic trick."</p> <p>He bent a knee and said, "May I reach behind your ear?"</p> <p>"Uh, sure?"</p> <p>Mordecai reached behind her ear, and <span style="color: gold">whispered</span>. The space behind her ear became warm, and Mordecai conjured a yellow rose. He handed it to her. Stunned, she idly placed the flower on her dress as a broach. He sat back down.</p> <p>Sally cleared her throat and said, "That was a fun parlor trick but what does <em>that</em> have to do with your job?"</p> <p>"Non-disclosure agreement."</p> <p>"Of course."</p> <hr/> <p>More time passed, and it was time for desserts.</p> <p>Rose looked around the venue, "Where's Eliza? She's gonna have to set up the games soon."</p> <p>"She's not back yet?"</p> <p>"I guess not," she paused. "Do you want dessert?" Rose asked Mordecai.</p> <p>"Sure."</p> <p>Rose asked her sons, "Do either of you want something?"</p> <p>Mark replied, "No."</p> <p>Luke replied, "Yeah, but can I come with you?"</p> <p>"Of course!"</p> <p>The three got up from the table. Mordecai, as before, followed Rose and Luke. The dessert table was crowded, and through the crowd Mordecai could see cute little cookies cut in the shape of sunflowers and barn animals. Tubberware! He needed another one to pack a few cookies.</p> <p>"Gimme a moment," he said to Rose. She nodded as her and Luke began to pick out desserts he wasn't allergic to. Mordecai retrieved more tubberware. Rose was on the other side of the dessert table when he exited the kitchen. She was engrossed in a conversation with Luke about the sugar cookies.</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> <p>Mordecai was alone.</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> <p>In the corner of his eye he saw his step-father, and one of his friends, drinking beer by the window. Mordecai tried to ignore them as he passed.</p> <p>"Ma's here with your stuff," Mordecai's step-father huffed.</p> <p>"Oh!" Mordecai replied.</p> <p>"If we find anymore of your things we'll send it to ya."</p> <p>"Cool! Thanks!"</p> <p>Mordecai started to pass the duo and in the window behind his step-father, he saw his mother putting boxes by the Elk Statue.</p> <p>"And we don't want you 'round here no more," Mordecai's step-father growled.</p> <p>Intense rage flared inside Mordecai's core. Breathing deeply, he turned to his step-father and said in an even tone, "I don't want to be around here anymore either."</p> <p>Mordecai turned to look for Rose. She was still engaged in the conversation about sugar cookies.</p> <p>Laughter. Mordecai focused his attention back to his step-father who was red in the face and laughing hysterically at Mordecai. Through the window, Eliza's face was furious and red… like Mordecai's step-father.</p> <p>Mordecai's anger raised in intensity. The cold, burning <span style="color: grey">static</span>, blossomed behind his eyes. The world started to go <span style="color: grey">black</span> but he pulled himself out of it.</p> <p><em>No. <span style="text-decoration: underline;">Never</span> again will he silence me and then laugh.</em></p> <p>In the deepest voice that Mordecai could summon, he projected:</p> <p><strong>"I'm done with you, I'm done with you standing up for Eliza after she abuses you. And I'm done with you taking it out on us."</strong></p> <p>The dessert table went silent. The step-father, his friend, and a passing by guest's eyes were wide.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Shock.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Mordecai turned back to the dessert table, and saw Rose still discussing the sugar cookies— and tried to get her attention. The crowd around the table felt more packed as he tried to squeeze around them to get to Rose. He didn't want to shout.</p> <p><strong>"WHAT THE <em>FUCK</em> DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOU FAIRY?"</strong></p> <p>Rose looked up in terror, and Mordecai turned around. His step-father barged toward him.</p> <p><strong>"ARE YOU A BITCH OR ARE YOU A MAN?"</strong></p> <p>Stopping a few feet in front of him, Mordecai's focus fell on the club insignia on his step-father's shirt. Seething, Mordecai's step-father growled, "<strong>GET. OUT. OF. HERE.</strong>"</p> <p>Mordecai took a deep breath in and visualized breathing in gold. He whispered under his breath, <em><span style="color: gold">Lord, bless his deer soul</span></em>, and braced himself.</p> <p>Mordecai's step-father threw a punch and Mordecai strafed to the left. He managed an upper cut into his step-father's jaw, when he heard Rose yell, "WE NEED TO LEAVE!"</p> <p>He struggled to get away. As the crowd formed a wall around him, he whispered under his breath, <em><span style="color: gold">Move</span></em>. There was a momentary gap between on-lookers, and Mordecai pushed through them. Rose was by the door with her sons. Together they rushed out of the door. Shouting came from behind Mordecai, but he ignored the words.</p> <p>Strewn around the elk outside sat three boxes, a trombone and a party goer smoking a cigarette.</p> <p>"Those are—" Mordecai started to say. There was writing on the boxes; <em>Marla.</em> He grit his teeth.</p> <p>"Mark, take one of the boxes." Rose's ten year old silently nodded and grabbed a box. Rose took another box and went to the van. Mordecai bent to grab a box and the trombone, when he was interrupted by the man. Mordecai's blinding anxiety and rage ebbed long enough for him to comprehend his brother-in-law. Marla had gone to high school with him.</p> <p>"Wanna smoke?" He leaned the open cigarette box toward Mordecai. The sweet, bitter smell of instilled death blown freely in the summer wind. Mordecai could already feel the hot, comforting death on the back of his throat.</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> <p>"No thank you."</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> <p>The brother-in-law nodded and placed the box back into his pocket. The shouting got louder, Mordecai looked behind him and saw his step-father attempting to leave the venue. Mordecai's aunt and grandmother were trying to hold him back.</p> <p><em><span style="color: gold">God bless you two</span></em>.</p> <p>Tears welled in his eyes, but he held them back as he hurried after Rose. They shoved the items in the van. Filing in quickly, the sons remained quiet and fixed their seatbelts. When everyone was inside, Mordecai immediately locked the doors. Rose paused and looked at Mordecai. There was a <span style="color: grey">storm</span> raging in his eyes, but it was quickly fading. His eyes dampened. Rose gripped his shoulder.</p> <p>"You are very brave to live your life. He was a coward to confront you like that… you are an inspiration to me. And I'm sure there are other people who are inspired by you too."</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>Mordecai finally cried.</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></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="/yellow-tale">Yellow</a>" by fairydoctor, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/yellow-tale">https://scpwiki.com/yellow-tale</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 style="border:dotted 3px #b31e00; background: #2c2c2c; padding:5px; margin-bottom: 10px; color:black"]] [[=]] ++++ ##e62700\|Content Warning:## ##e62700\|Explicit descriptions of transphobia, sexism, homophobia, antisemitism, and physical, emotional and verbal abuse.## //##858585\|-- fairydoctor##// [[/=]] [[/div]] [[div class="crom-thumbnail" style="display: none;"]] [[include <a href="/component:image-block">component:image-block</a> name=yellow-rose2.jpg]] [[/div]] @@ @@ [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> darkmode=a\|hidetitle=a]] [[module CSS]] :root { /hover boarder/ --basalt-UI-dark-palette: 207, 181, 59; /links and highlights/ --basalt-bright-element-color: 207, 181, 59; /scrollbar/ --basalt-dark-element-color: 207, 181, 59; /general border color/ --general-border-color: 255, 223, 0; } [[/module]] __September 10, 2022__ Mordecai slipped his binder on over his head, reached for a dress shirt, and buttoned it. He observed himself in the mirror: black dress pants, plain dark brown belt, navy blue shirt (with little white stars and a red collar), and nice brown leather shoes. He sighed and hoped it would be unassuming enough for them and would act as an olive branch. Approaching a bookshelf, Mordecai retrieved a plain, black leather kippah. He walked back to the mirror. Standing next to the mirror was his white rabbit, a servitor, Hal. She glowered at Mordecai, unblinking eyes, judging him. "I'm aware, but this is a them problem." Hal stood on her hind legs, twisting her head from side to side. Her blank stare observing Mordecai carefully. "My sister asked me to come. I'm not going for anyone but her, and she doesn't have an issue with this." He gestured to himself. Hal got back on all fours and hopped away. Mordecai again looked at himself in the mirror. He placed the kippah on his head and while affixing it he sang: "//Shema Israel, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad!//" Taking a deep breath in, he visualized breathing in gold threads. He slowly exhaled. Deep breath in. Slow exhale. Silence. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Then suddenly, his phone buzzed. "That's Rose!" he said to no one in particular, since Hal had hopped into the other room. He checked his phone and read out loud, "im outside". He sighed deeply again, "I'll be back later Hal. Please don't wreck the apartment," and left. ------ The ride out to the countryside with Rose and her sons was longer than Mordecai expected. The topics of conversation were old high school friends and their families, recent movies watched, romantic affairs, and the recent fight Mordecai had with his mother. "So, we're still goin' to your parents' house after the shower?" Rose asked as they turned down another dirt road. "Yea, that's what we agreed on--" ------ They arrived at the small venue. A large elk statue stood menacingly outside the venue. The placard below read, "Clear Creek Club est. 1979". The brass statue was dark green and the elk's antlers were dulled from decades of hostile, 'Great Lakes' weather. Mordecai, Rose, and her two sons put on their masks as they entered the venue. A few of Mordecai's relatives stood near the front door. The relatives shifted nervously, and gave Mordecai soured looks as he walked by them. The building was packed, and no guest other than Mordecai's party wore masks. Fox News was on all the screens. Thankfully, the TVs were muted and closed captioned. Yellow streamers and paper cut outs of barn yard animals and sunflowers decorated the hall. His sister sat in the corner chatting with a close friend. Cait noticed her brother entering and stood to greet him. "Mordecai! Thought you weren't coming! Can I give you a hug?" She wore a soft, yellow sundress. Mordecai had a thought, //She just had Covid, but if I can hug only one person it's her.// "Of course I'd come!" They embraced and Mordecai's eyes began to dampen. He held back his tears. They released, and Mordecai exclaimed, "Congratulations, Cait!" He noticed that Cait was wearing her sunflower patterned hearing aids today. "Thank you! Let me show you Sally." Cait led Mordecai, Rose, and her sons, to the table in the corner. "Sally is a friend from school. She's helped a lot with decorations." Mordecai's eyes dampened again. //Dont cry...// Cait knew the sex of her child, but opted to have a neutral gender baby shower. She only had the "gender reveal party" on account of their mother, Eliza. Where was sh- "Marla-- MORDECAI!!" Jolted out of his thoughts, he turned toward the voice. Quickly approaching him with arms splayed wide was a skeleton figure, wearing a grotesque, red mask. "Don't I get a hug?" //Mom.// She stopped in front of Mordecai with a large, fake grin. Mordecai felt all eyes from the venue watching him. Judging him. Glaring at him. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ "No." @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Silence fell over the venue. Mordecai and his mom locked eyes. She had not moved from her stance, arms still held wide. Peeking out from under her blouse, Mordecai could see the cord to her scapular. Another moment of silence passed, Mordecai's mother slowly put her arms down. Her fake grin faded, she huffed and left to greet another table. His face was cold and clammy, and sweat rolled down the back of his neck. When the venue resumed chatting, Mordecai turned to Rose and whispered, "Did I do the right thing?" She paused, "I- I don't know." They both sat in silence for a moment. Cait and Sally had moved on to a conversation about Cait's cows. A commercial came on on the screens and distracted Mordecai. A commercial for men's deodorant, an elk running through the snow in the woods. Nostrils flaring, he huffed. Mordecai shook his head and regained focus from the stupor. Rose continued, "I don't force my kids to hug if they don't want to." Mordecai nodded his head defeated. He knew there would be some recourse with his parents. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his parents quietly arguing near the door. A moment later, his mom angrily left the venue. Mordecai sighed. ------ Time passed, and dinner was announced. Rose said to Mordecai, "Let's go first, and you can follow behind; so, it doesn't look like I'm your chaperone." "Kinda fucked up that I need a chaperone," Mordecai mumbled. Rose nodded slowly as she stood. Her and her sons approached the dinner line, and Mordecai quickly followed. He also avoided getting close to a few relatives that had been giving him cold glares since he entered the building. His step-father stumbled by him and grunted, "Ma's gettin' your stuff." Mordecai nodded nervously. The step-father shuffled by Rose and Mordecai and muttered, "--fruit loop." After a few moments, Rose asked "What was that?" "Mom's bringing my boxes here." Mordecai stated, "At least we don't have to go over to their house after this." He choked back tears and tried to convince himself that he misheard the last thing. At the counter, Mordecai requested tubberware. The cook was a long time friend of Mordecai's step-father. He said nothing and looked enraged. Rose gently repeated what Mordecai said, the cook huffed and handed Mordecai a small tub of tubberware. Mordecai thanked him and moved further down the line. Sauerkraut with sausage, green beans with bacon, fried chicken (questionable), mashed potatoes... the potatoes were the safest option. Mordecai sighed and spooned some mashed potatoes in his tubberware and followed Rose out of the kitchen. They returned to their tables. Sally asked Mordecai, "What is it that you do again for a living?" Mordecai hated this question. "I work at a research facility near Bay City. I signed a non-disclosure agreement with them." "Yeah, but what do you do?" Mordecai stifled a laugh, "I can show you." "Sure?" He stood up and approached Sally. "I'm going to do a magic trick." He bent a knee and said, "May I reach behind your ear?" "Uh, sure?" Mordecai reached behind her ear, and ##gold\|whispered##. The space behind her ear became warm, and Mordecai conjured a yellow rose. He handed it to her. Stunned, she idly placed the flower on her dress as a broach. He sat back down. Sally cleared her throat and said, "That was a fun parlor trick but what does //that// have to do with your job?" "Non-disclosure agreement." "Of course." ------ More time passed, and it was time for desserts. Rose looked around the venue, "Where's Eliza? She's gonna have to set up the games soon." "She's not back yet?" "I guess not," she paused. "Do you want dessert?" Rose asked Mordecai. "Sure." Rose asked her sons, "Do either of you want something?" Mark replied, "No." Luke replied, "Yeah, but can I come with you?" "Of course!" The three got up from the table. Mordecai, as before, followed Rose and Luke. The dessert table was crowded, and through the crowd Mordecai could see cute little cookies cut in the shape of sunflowers and barn animals. Tubberware! He needed another one to pack a few cookies. "Gimme a moment," he said to Rose. She nodded as her and Luke began to pick out desserts he wasn't allergic to. Mordecai retrieved more tubberware. Rose was on the other side of the dessert table when he exited the kitchen. She was engrossed in a conversation with Luke about the sugar cookies. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ Mordecai was alone. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ In the corner of his eye he saw his step-father, and one of his friends, drinking beer by the window. Mordecai tried to ignore them as he passed. "Ma's here with your stuff," Mordecai's step-father huffed. "Oh!" Mordecai replied. "If we find anymore of your things we'll send it to ya." "Cool! Thanks!" Mordecai started to pass the duo and in the window behind his step-father, he saw his mother putting boxes by the Elk Statue. "And we don't want you 'round here no more," Mordecai's step-father growled. Intense rage flared inside Mordecai's core. Breathing deeply, he turned to his step-father and said in an even tone, "I don't want to be around here anymore either." Mordecai turned to look for Rose. She was still engaged in the conversation about sugar cookies. Laughter. Mordecai focused his attention back to his step-father who was red in the face and laughing hysterically at Mordecai. Through the window, Eliza's face was furious and red... like Mordecai's step-father. Mordecai's anger raised in intensity. The cold, burning ##grey\|static##, blossomed behind his eyes. The world started to go ##grey\|black## but he pulled himself out of it. //No. __Never__ again will he silence me and then laugh.// In the deepest voice that Mordecai could summon, he projected: "I'm done with you, I'm done with you standing up for Eliza after she abuses you. And I'm done with you taking it out on us." The dessert table went silent. The step-father, his friend, and a passing by guest's eyes were wide. @@ @@ Shock. @@ @@ Mordecai turned back to the dessert table, and saw Rose still discussing the sugar cookies-- and tried to get her attention. The crowd around the table felt more packed as he tried to squeeze around them to get to Rose. He didn't want to shout. "WHAT THE //FUCK// DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOU FAIRY?" Rose looked up in terror, and Mordecai turned around. His step-father barged toward him. "ARE YOU A BITCH OR ARE YOU A MAN?" Stopping a few feet in front of him, Mordecai's focus fell on the club insignia on his step-father's shirt. Seething, Mordecai's step-father growled, "GET. OUT. OF. HERE." Mordecai took a deep breath in and visualized breathing in gold. He whispered under his breath, //##gold\|Lord, bless his deer soul##//, and braced himself. Mordecai's step-father threw a punch and Mordecai strafed to the left. He managed an upper cut into his step-father's jaw, when he heard Rose yell, "WE NEED TO LEAVE!" He struggled to get away. As the crowd formed a wall around him, he whispered under his breath, //##gold\|Move##//. There was a momentary gap between on-lookers, and Mordecai pushed through them. Rose was by the door with her sons. Together they rushed out of the door. Shouting came from behind Mordecai, but he ignored the words. Strewn around the elk outside sat three boxes, a trombone and a party goer smoking a cigarette. "Those are--" Mordecai started to say. There was writing on the boxes; //Marla.// He grit his teeth. "Mark, take one of the boxes." Rose's ten year old silently nodded and grabbed a box. Rose took another box and went to the van. Mordecai bent to grab a box and the trombone, when he was interrupted by the man. Mordecai's blinding anxiety and rage ebbed long enough for him to comprehend his brother-in-law. Marla had gone to high school with him. "Wanna smoke?" He leaned the open cigarette box toward Mordecai. The sweet, bitter smell of instilled death blown freely in the summer wind. Mordecai could already feel the hot, comforting death on the back of his throat. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ "No thank you." @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ The brother-in-law nodded and placed the box back into his pocket. The shouting got louder, Mordecai looked behind him and saw his step-father attempting to leave the venue. Mordecai's aunt and grandmother were trying to hold him back. //##gold\|God bless you two##//. Tears welled in his eyes, but he held them back as he hurried after Rose. They shoved the items in the van. Filing in quickly, the sons remained quiet and fixed their seatbelts. When everyone was inside, Mordecai immediately locked the doors. Rose paused and looked at Mordecai. There was a ##grey\|storm## raging in his eyes, but it was quickly fading. His eyes dampened. Rose gripped his shoulder. "You are very brave to live your life. He was a coward to confront you like that... you are an inspiration to me. And I'm sure there are other people who are inspired by you too." @@ @@ Mordecai finally cried. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[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>]]	2023-03-26T01:38:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "fantasy", "featured", "horror", "psychological-horror", "tale" ]	Yellow - SCP Foundation	55	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "featured-tale-archive-ii" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/yellow-tale/yellow-rose2.jpg" ]	1446972118	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/yellow-tale
you-await-my-return	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p><iframe allowtransparency="true" class="html-block-iframe" frameborder="0" src="/you-await-my-return/html/ff81b3dd02ac69eb119287359fab2ff01cabccd8-1972254444752839630"></iframe></p> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-folded"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">+ Transcription</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded-link"><a class="collapsible-block-link" href="javascript:;">- stars are faintly flickering</a></div> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div class="extra-spacing"> <p>They must know I’m out here. Someone must see me down there.</p> <p>I cannot die while I’m up here. I’ve given up on that possibility. As long as I’m stuck here, I will live. That much I do know.</p> <p>I do not know what happens if I ever escape orbit. If I fly off into space, or if I manage to crash back down to earth. Will I be alive? Will I turn to dust? Will I change?</p> <p>I do not know how long it has been. I’ve given up hoping to see my comrades. Wherever they went, I cannot see.</p> <p>I do not know where our ship went, whatever is left of it. I can only barely remember what it looked like to begin with. Perhaps it is all gone, maybe it is only gone to me.</p> <p>What I know is that I’ve seen the world change beneath me. Oceans rise, a thousand storms come and go. The lights I see crop up in the dark have grown in number. I’ve seen the double flash of nuclear tests across the oceans and deserts and tundras of the world. I’ve seen every probe, every station, everything that exited the atmosphere after me. In spite of everything, humanity seems to have grown, life from my eyes has changed. I hope mostly for the better. I dream of the world down there. I know it cannot be perfect, but compared to the cold and empty nightmare I’m in, it seems like a paradise.</p> <p>What I know is that there is still life down there.</p> <p>In spite of everything.</p> <p>There is still life down there.</p> <p>What I know is that there’s something alive in this suit with me. Pulsating, pulling on every inch of me. Like an array of strings, living and breathing. I’ve fought the string, but I’ve lost every fight.</p> <p>I’ve faced death many times. Twice during the war, crawling from rubble through the bombings. Once when the being ripped our shuttle apart, when I saw a thousand flashing lights in a single warped face and the screams of unimaginable beasts roared through the nothingness. When I prayed for mercy only for my prayers to be answered. Then again, one hundred times at my own hand, trying and failing to take off or destroy my helmet. Only when it finally shattered did I realize it made no difference. The fleshy strings within me, they give me life. They have made me indestructible.</p> <p>Whatever this is that crawls in my flesh, it has decided I have a reason to persist. I’ve thought long and hard, as I’ve had nothing else to do. I must be alive for a reason. There must be some purpose for my continued survival. I begged for my life once, and I have been granted it a thousand times over. I’ve pleaded for death a million times, but I’ve only received silence. I may only be a puppet made of flesh, but my mind is preserved for a reason. I have something to give, something to share. Something I must deliver to the life down below. I carry this with me. A certainty growing in my skin. A clarity bubbling in my blood. My life has become something different. A message. A vessel. An answer.</p> <p>I await my return.</p> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><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="/you-await-my-return">This Dark Night Separates Us</a>" by GerrymanderBassist, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/you-await-my-return">https://scpwiki.com/you-await-my-return</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> dark night final.mp3<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gerrymanderbassist" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2346106); return false;"><img alt="GerrymanderBassist" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2346106&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188886" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2346106)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/gerrymanderbassist" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2346106); return false;">GerrymanderBassist</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/you-await-my-return">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://snippets.wikidot.com/html5player">:snippets:html5player</a> \|type=audio \|url= http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/you-await-my-return/dark%20night%20final.mp3]] [[collapsible show="+ Transcription" hide="- stars are faintly flickering"]] [[module CSS]] div.extra-spacing p { line-height: 230%; } [[/module]] [[div class="extra-spacing"]] They must know I’m out here. Someone must see me down there. I cannot die while I’m up here. I’ve given up on that possibility. As long as I’m stuck here, I will live. That much I do know. I do not know what happens if I ever escape orbit. If I fly off into space, or if I manage to crash back down to earth. Will I be alive? Will I turn to dust? Will I change? I do not know how long it has been. I’ve given up hoping to see my comrades. Wherever they went, I cannot see. I do not know where our ship went, whatever is left of it. I can only barely remember what it looked like to begin with. Perhaps it is all gone, maybe it is only gone to me. What I know is that I’ve seen the world change beneath me. Oceans rise, a thousand storms come and go. The lights I see crop up in the dark have grown in number. I’ve seen the double flash of nuclear tests across the oceans and deserts and tundras of the world. I’ve seen every probe, every station, everything that exited the atmosphere after me. In spite of everything, humanity seems to have grown, life from my eyes has changed. I hope mostly for the better. I dream of the world down there. I know it cannot be perfect, but compared to the cold and empty nightmare I’m in, it seems like a paradise. What I know is that there is still life down there. In spite of everything. There is still life down there. What I know is that there’s something alive in this suit with me. Pulsating, pulling on every inch of me. Like an array of strings, living and breathing. I’ve fought the string, but I’ve lost every fight. I’ve faced death many times. Twice during the war, crawling from rubble through the bombings. Once when the being ripped our shuttle apart, when I saw a thousand flashing lights in a single warped face and the screams of unimaginable beasts roared through the nothingness. When I prayed for mercy only for my prayers to be answered. Then again, one hundred times at my own hand, trying and failing to take off or destroy my helmet. Only when it finally shattered did I realize it made no difference. The fleshy strings within me, they give me life. They have made me indestructible. Whatever this is that crawls in my flesh, it has decided I have a reason to persist. I’ve thought long and hard, as I’ve had nothing else to do. I must be alive for a reason. There must be some purpose for my continued survival. I begged for my life once, and I have been granted it a thousand times over. I’ve pleaded for death a million times, but I’ve only received silence. I may only be a puppet made of flesh, but my mind is preserved for a reason. I have something to give, something to share. Something I must deliver to the life down below. I carry this with me. A certainty growing in my skin. A clarity bubbling in my blood. My life has become something different. A message. A vessel. An answer. I await my return. [[/div]] [[/collapsible]] _ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: dark night final.mp3 > Author: [[user gerrymanderbassist]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/you-await-my-return SCP Foundation Wiki] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-28T03:17:00	[ "_licensebox", "audio", "remixcon2023", "tale" ]	This Dark Night Separates Us - SCP Foundation	25	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "revamped-underread-and-underrated", "reimagined-hub", "remixcon2023" ]	[]	1449587598	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/you-await-my-return
you-deserve-to-be-happy	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div class="preview"> <p>I fall in love like a deer frolics through the woods: light, airy, head tilted high, the Sun kissing my forehead. I told you I'd get up again. My love is the strongest love.</p> </div> <div class="limit"> <div class="anchor"> <div class="authorbox"><div class="list-pages-box"> <div class="list-pages-item"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th>I Am Ira Watts & You Are The Forest</th> </tr> <tr> <td style="text-align: center;"><strong>By:</strong> <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=1736645509" 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></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1687148000 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">19 Jun 2023 04:13</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/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="indented"> <p>You stare, dissatisfied, at the burning circle at the edge of your front yard. It's so large, and it smells so sulfuric. It's killed the beautiful native grass you'd been cultivating. But at the same time, you know it was your fault. Not entirely. But just a little bit.</p> <p><em>(Former) Special Agent Ira fucking Watts can't score a date. Incredible.</em></p> <p>You lift your arm and tilt your head down. <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/losers-in-every-dimension">You look at the card he left</a>. An identical circle is inscribed on the back of it. It's silly, but you end up wondering a little bit. Maybe there's something there.</p> <p>The sun is beginning to glint off the ashes. It's time to get ready for the day. You go through your mental checklist:</p> <ol> <li>Put your arm on.</li> <li>Brush your teeth.</li> <li>Call in. Check on the kids.</li> <li>Maybe clean the house, if you have time.</li> <li>Maybe go birdwatching, if you have time.</li> <li>Fishing, but that's a time thing too.</li> </ol> <p>And you're off.</p> </div> <hr/> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Your arm.</span></h1> <p>You don't wear it all the time<br/> which you sometimes realize<br/> is a weird way to treat an arm but<br/> the crux of it is that you don't<br/> always<br/> need it<br/> anymore.</p> <p>You think about it<br/> The difference it makes.</p> <p>Your commander would've killed you<br/> if you needed it<br/> before you had it, right?</p> <p>Because back then you couldn't just choose not to<br/> You needed it to fight,<br/> you needed it to not die<br/> but what good did that do for you?<br/> You lost so much anyway.</p> <p>You tie it in, feel the cold on your stump<br/> Shiver a little bit<br/> Look at it in the mirror, adjust, adjust<br/> Make sure it's not all fucked up<br/> Nice. Looks good.</p> <p>You nod<br/> And notice your <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6432">eye</a><br/> Doesn't follow you cleanly.</p> <p>You adjust, adjust,<br/> make sure it's not all fucked up<br/> Nice. Looks better.</p> <p>You look at yourself a little bit more.<br/> Just for a moment longer.<br/> You've never realized how clean it was<br/> relatively speaking,<br/> because they only got one half of you<br/> the only thing is</p> <p>in the mirror, they got your left side<br/> and in the real world, they got your<br/> right.</p> <p>So you can't say "I'm all right"<br/> To people who ask if you were feeling alright<br/> And that<br/> probably would've made you feel a little better<br/> back at the hospital.</p> <p>But fuck it<br/> At least you're alright.</p> <h1 id="toc1"><span>Your teeth.</span></h1> <p>Your breath smells so fucking bad<br/> Augh.<br/> You drank way too much last night<br/> For something that you<br/> kind of realize<br/> was maybe<br/> just a little<br/> perhaps<br/> not<br/> that<br/> big of a deal—</p> <p>No, because you didn't know what was happening<br/> What his intentions were<br/> There was fear there<br/> That fear was real.</p> <p>You realize you're still holding his card<br/> When you feel it crumple in your hands<br/> Because what he said about<br/> signals and "this is all coming from you" and "I'm not doing anything"<br/> was actually<br/> pretty fucking rude.</p> <p>That is not what de-escalation is<br/> and you know that because that's been your job<br/> for forever now<br/> but<br/> well maybe it's not something he's used to<br/> and maybe he was just scared too.</p> <p>You uncrumple the card and set it on the sink next to your toothbrush.<br/> Alright, fuck, fine, maybe this is a nuanced situation<br/> that maybe you could've handled better and maybe<br/> he could've handled better and maybe you both have<br/> issues with your identities that stem from<br/> trauma and fuck and shit and whatever.<br/> Man.</p> <p>Oh, right,<br/> your toothbrush.<br/> You wanted to brush your teeth.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>The deer steps away,<br/> looking at him from a better angle;</em></p> </div> <h1 id="toc2"><span>The kids.</span></h1> <p>It's summer so you have no reason to be doing this<br/> but also you<br/> like your job probably a little bit more than you thought you would<br/> so occasionally<br/> you call in to the head of the project to ask about your little proteges.</p> <p>for your employers' track record, they're surprisingly easygoing<br/> on them — letting them off for the summer to play around<br/> in good old NegaSeattle, wandering off to have little<br/> teenage adventures and whatnot.</p> <p>so at the end of each month<br/> You call <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/holy-terrors-1">Director Church</a> and ask her for updates<br/> "what are they up to now that they're out of my class?"<br/> "staying out of trouble?"<br/> "being good?"<br/> "growing up?"<br/> and her answers are always vague and cagey<br/> but you've learned to read Foundation lingo<br/> so you know that means<br/> they're all good.</p> <p>That always makes you smile.</p> <p>You put your phone down, next to the crumpled card.</p> <p>You take off your prosthetic—</p> <h1 id="toc3"><span>The house.</span></h1> <p>—you don't feel like cleaning today.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>The deer<br/> watches back<br/> while he's out</em></p> </div> <h1 id="toc4"><span>birdwatching.</span></h1> <p>You cup your binoculars like they're the scope of your rifle,<br/> the <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/working-dogs">training</a> that never leaves you.</p> <p>But there's peace and splendor here in the trees,<br/> and you don't worry about any villains lurking.</p> <p>You put down your binoculars to shift your hair,<br/> it's hot out, and you're sweating.</p> <p>But beneath the diamond-shaped leaves on trees,<br/> you feel cool, safe and protected.</p> <p>You haven't seen any birds today<br/> a little odd but that's okay<br/> maybe it's an alone time kind of thing.<br/> So you've got your Scotch beside you<br/> on your tree-attachment chair<br/> legs sprawled either side<br/> in some brown cargo shorts<br/> (you never wear anything like this usually, unless you're chilling alone like today. It's a nice feeling.)</p> <p>You bring your binoculars back up and<br/> to your shock you see antlers in the distance<br/> taller and sturdier than any moose, stag, deer, etc.<br/> and you watch them through the thick tree line and bushes<br/> but for now you can't make out what is underneath them, what<br/> strange animal has such sinewy, web-like structures<br/> perched upon their head like demon horns or a<br/> crown of some sort or something more<br/> mysterious and beautiful.</p> <p>Woah.</p> <p>You slide your binoculars down once more<br/> to see if you can see all the way out there<br/> to see if you can see the antlers past the bush.</p> <p>Yeah, wow, you can.<br/> Your one eye still works well.<br/> You stare in wonder, how the sun glints off them<br/> when it comes out from behind a bush</p> <p>and you see it is no animal<br/> but a<br/> (woman?)<br/> of powerful stature.<br/> What?</p> <p>You pull your binocular back up to your eye<br/> and you almost lean forward to get a better glance<br/> almost out of your chair<br/> staring:</p> <p>This thing in the woods is adorned in a black cloak<br/> strewn loosely by its sides revealing<br/> a humanoid form beneath<br/> slim and muscular and<br/> much taller than you.<br/> Looking down on you with its<br/> perfectly triangular snout<br/> like this:<br/></p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>This thing in the woods has eyes that are white that shine<br/> and its eyes pierce through the forest like a lightbulb<br/> in the dark: but even in the afternoon sun they are<br/> so bright and so powerful and shimmering with<br/> power and color that you can look at forever<br/> but <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/how-to-walk-on-air-and-poetry">never ever quite understand</a> but it<br/> reminds you of colors you saw while<br/> containing dimensional anomalies<br/> and that's a little bit freaky.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>This thing in the woods is.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>This thing in the woods with its brown fur<br/> and stout little snout with a black button nose<br/> who looks at you, its forehead, its eyebrows arched<br/> as if in concern for you. It stares in an almost loving way<br/> and you've worked with furries before. But. You never thought<br/> of it that way and now you've honestly found yourself questioning<br/> a few things. So you stare back and try to understand its robes and<br/> its fur and its eyes and the sinew of its horns and everything about this<br/> strange being that is so clearly beyond you, but feels so at home in the forest.</p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><em>woah</em><br/> You lower your binoculars,<br/> and it is in front of you.<br/> In the same gracious pose<br/> but suspended off the ground<br/> almost equal to where it appeared in the binoculars<br/> but now in front of you and your chair.</p> <p>You almost fall out of it<br/> wishing you had brought your gun<br/> and fuck you knew the woods were dangerous<br/> and fuck you wish you had taken your arm after all<br/> but it steadies you with a digit somewhere under its front hoof<br/> and steadies you until you are still, staring at each other.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>I have seen you,<br/> In the woods perched<br/> on your chair.<br/> For many years now<br/> I have wanted to tell you<br/> something very important.</em></p> </div> <p>"What?"</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>You must get<br/> into the right headspace<br/> for me to tell you<br/> because you may find it<br/> to be — as you mortals put it—<br/> "a lot."<br/> I do not wish to alarm you.</em></p> </div> <p>"You're not from this Nexus, are you?"</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>No, but<br/> I have worked with your people<br/> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-thorley-little-christmas">before</a>.</em></p> </div> <p>"For some reason, I kind of believe you."</p> <p>You see a great white light surrounding this thing from the forest<br/> an ability granted to you by the hole in your face:<br/> the sight of truth in other beings<br/> and this is the first time you have seen such a white, pure aura, but also such a cold aura<br/> as if this being is of snow<br/> and your time<br/> is melting quickly. "What do you need me to do?"</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>It smiles.</em></p> </div> <h1 id="toc5"><span>Fishing.</span></h1> <p>You and the deer goddess of the forest<br/> sit side by side<br/> on a boat in the middle of the lake<br/> fishing.</p> <p>It has been twenty minutes since you met<br/> and you've learned a lot about each other—<br/> you told it right off the bat you could see its aura<br/> and it said that was okay because it could see yours, too<br/> and it apologized when it saw how freaked out that made you<br/> even when you didn't say anything.</p> <p>You come to understand this is a shockingly standard forest spirit<br/> just a little marred by Foundation intervention into some of its dominant concepts.<br/> You never looked into essophysics because that was never your job<br/> but you imagine you'd have more frame of reference if you did.</p> <p>In any case: It is avoiding the point.<br/> You watch it carefully manipulate its rod<br/> with fingers that were not there before<br/> a spool of silken thread it brought itself<br/> on the end of it.<br/> Your rod just has normal wire on it<br/> but neither of you have caught anything<br/> so maybe to the deer that's just normal wire.</p> <p>It has been forty minutes since you met<br/> and you're ready to give in and ask<br/> when your line gets a tug and suddenly you look<br/> in the water and you see that the<br/> biggest catfish you have ever fucking seen is<br/> nagging on your fucking line oh<br/> my god<br/> you<br/> try so hard to reel it in<br/> and feel it slipping away<br/> like <em>splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash</em>.</p> <p>When strong arms in velvet robes<br/> wrap around your body throes<br/> and pull you back into the boat<br/> the catfish in tow.</p> <p>You didn't realize you were soaking wet<br/> but the deer, standing over you,<br/> has now also been made wet,<br/> and the fish between you is slapping around<br/> drying out.</p> <p>All three of you start laughing.</p> <p>"Do you think you're gonna want to eat this?"<br/></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>I'm vegetarian.</em></p> </div> <br/> "Oh. Yeah. That would make sense." <p>You take that fat old catfish and you hurl it into the water<br/> and watch it disappear into the murky depths for a second time<br/> and feel a weird sense of pride like you just discovered<br/> something about yourself, so when the sun begins to go down<br/> and you take this deer and yourself back to shore you've<br/> forgotten that it ever wanted to tell you anything but then it<br/> speaks.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>I wanted to tell you something.</em></p> </div> <br/> "Oh, yeah, uh— what's up?"<br/> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>It smiles.</em></p> <p><em>You deserve to be happy.</em></p> </div> <br/> And you're taken aback by how to the point it was, for a spiritual lesson from a beyonder-being. <p>You start the long trek home<br/> the deer somewhere behind the trees<br/> its presence covering you like<br/> a velvet robe.</p> <h1 id="toc6"><span>Come back to me.</span></h1> <p>You roll around in bed.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>You deserve to be happy.</em></p> </div> <p>You roll around again.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>You deserve to be happy.</em></p> </div> <p>You flip the pillow over your head.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>You deserve to be happy.</em></p> </div> <p>The sun has barely set but you're beat<br/> from a long day of doing things that you enjoy,<br/> something you haven't done<br/> in a while.</p> <p>It was just things you liked, things that made you happy<br/> but you also got to experience them with a friend<br/> and that is the nicest feeling in the whole world.<br/> You can't sleep even with being physically exhausted<br/> because mentally a whole new world has been opened to you.<br/> Fuck.</p> <p>Fuck!</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>You deserve to be happy!</em></p> </div> <p>Alright, alright!</p> <hr/> <div class="indented"> <p>You flip the card between your fingers, looking back-and-forth and its front and back. It glints under the moonlight. It makes you stare harder, thinking about your decision.</p> <p>He understood you. But he isn't like you. You had a good time. But only under duress. He didn't want to hurt you. But he tried to scare you off. Back and forth. Front and back. Thinking, your eye glinting in the moonlight.</p> <p>You glance out at your yard, where the circle is. It's settled down. Life will grow back over it. The whole thing'll be forgotten. It'll blow over. That's the way of nature. But it isn't the way of people. Maybe you do deserve to be happy. Do something a little risky.</p> <p>The Foundation did approve his appearance here. He's a loyal contractor. You do feel lonely, sometimes, honestly, yes, yeah. Maybe.</p> <p>Maybe.</p> <p>Oh, fuck it. The yard is ruined anyway. You march right out there under moonlight, flip the card over so you can learn the ritual — yeah, your wards are stronger at night. But that's just how you like it. You feel like he'll like it too.</p> <p>You're not exhausted anymore. You feel happy. You deserve this. Let's get going. You begin the ritual, whatever that means to you, you take a swig of your Scotch, you look out at the tree line and feel the forest looking back at you:</p> <p><em>I'm Ira fucking Watts. Fuck yeah, dude.</em></p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p><em>And you're the forest.</em></p> </div> </div> <hr/> <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></p> <p><strong>Hello everyone! Thanks for reading my RomCon entry, featuring my own Deer, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/raddagher" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5364476); return false;"><img alt="Raddagher" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5364476&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735044013" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5364476)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/raddagher" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5364476); return false;">Raddagher</a></span>'s Ira Watts, and references to <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/greyve" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4045981); return false;"><img alt="Greyve" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=4045981&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735044013" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=4045981)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/greyve" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4045981); return false;">Greyve</a></span>'s Belial. This is a direct sequel to Radd's Round One entry, which you can read <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/losers-in-every-dimension">here</a>. You should also <span style="text-decoration: underline;">need</span> to check out Radd's <span style="text-decoration: underline;">amazing</span> sequel to my Round One entry, <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/how-to-walk-on-air-and-poetry">How To Walk On Air And Poetry</a></span>. DO IT RIGHT NOW. Happy reading!</strong></p> <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="/you-deserve-to-be-happy">I Am Ira Watts & You Are The Forest</a>" by FLOORBOARDS, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/you-deserve-to-be-happy">https://scpwiki.com/you-deserve-to-be-happy</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> </div></body></html>	===== [[include <a href="/component:preview">component:preview</a> text= I fall in love like a deer frolics through the woods: light, airy, head tilted high, the Sun kissing my forehead. I told you I'd get up again. My love is the strongest love. ]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:scp-trans-pride">:scp-wiki:theme:scp-trans-pride</a> \|trans-pride-logo= --]]] [[module css]] #page-title { display: none; } .footnotes-footer { display:none; } [[/module]] [[=]] [[module Rate]] [[/=]] [[div class="indented"]] You stare, dissatisfied, at the burning circle at the edge of your front yard. It's so large, and it smells so sulfuric. It's killed the beautiful native grass you'd been cultivating. But at the same time, you know it was your fault. Not entirely. But just a little bit. //(Former) Special Agent Ira fucking Watts can't score a date. Incredible.// You lift your arm and tilt your head down. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/losers-in-every-dimension You look at the card he left]. An identical circle is inscribed on the back of it. It's silly, but you end up wondering a little bit. Maybe there's something there. The sun is beginning to glint off the ashes. It's time to get ready for the day. You go through your mental checklist: # Put your arm on. # Brush your teeth. # Call in. Check on the kids. # Maybe clean the house, if you have time. # Maybe go birdwatching, if you have time. # Fishing, but that's a time thing too. And you're off. [[/div]] ------ + Your arm. You don't wear it all the time which you sometimes realize is a weird way to treat an arm but the crux of it is that you don't always need it anymore. You think about it The difference it makes. Your commander would've killed you if you needed it before you had it, right? Because back then you couldn't just choose not to You needed it to fight, you needed it to not die but what good did that do for you? You lost so much anyway. You tie it in, feel the cold on your stump Shiver a little bit Look at it in the mirror, adjust, adjust Make sure it's not all fucked up Nice. Looks good. You nod And notice your [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6432 eye] Doesn't follow you cleanly. You adjust, adjust, make sure it's not all fucked up Nice. Looks better. You look at yourself a little bit more. Just for a moment longer. You've never realized how clean it was relatively speaking, because they only got one half of you the only thing is in the mirror, they got your left side and in the real world, they got your right. So you can't say "I'm all right" To people who ask if you were feeling alright And that probably would've made you feel a little better back at the hospital. But fuck it At least you're alright. + Your teeth. Your breath smells so fucking bad Augh. You drank way too much last night For something that you kind of realize was maybe just a little perhaps not that big of a deal-- No, because you didn't know what was happening What his intentions were There was fear there That fear was real. You realize you're still holding his card When you feel it crumple in your hands Because what he said about signals and "this is all coming from you" and "I'm not doing anything" was actually pretty fucking rude. That is not what de-escalation is and you know that because that's been your job for forever now but well maybe it's not something he's used to and maybe he was just scared too. You uncrumple the card and set it on the sink next to your toothbrush. Alright, fuck, fine, maybe this is a nuanced situation that maybe you could've handled better and maybe he could've handled better and maybe you both have issues with your identities that stem from trauma and fuck and shit and whatever. Man. Oh, right, your toothbrush. You wanted to brush your teeth. [[>]] //The deer steps away, looking at him from a better angle;// [[/>]] + The kids. It's summer so you have no reason to be doing this but also you like your job probably a little bit more than you thought you would so occasionally you call in to the head of the project to ask about your little proteges. for your employers' track record, they're surprisingly easygoing on them -- letting them off for the summer to play around in good old NegaSeattle, wandering off to have little teenage adventures and whatnot. so at the end of each month You call [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/holy-terrors-1 Director Church] and ask her for updates "what are they up to now that they're out of my class?" "staying out of trouble?" "being good?" "growing up?" and her answers are always vague and cagey but you've learned to read Foundation lingo so you know that means they're all good. That always makes you smile. You put your phone down, next to the crumpled card. You take off your prosthetic-- + The house. --you don't feel like cleaning today. [[>]] //The deer watches back while he's out// [[/>]] + birdwatching. You cup your binoculars like they're the scope of your rifle, the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/working-dogs training] that never leaves you. But there's peace and splendor here in the trees, and you don't worry about any villains lurking. You put down your binoculars to shift your hair, it's hot out, and you're sweating. But beneath the diamond-shaped leaves on trees, you feel cool, safe and protected. You haven't seen any birds today a little odd but that's okay maybe it's an alone time kind of thing. So you've got your Scotch beside you on your tree-attachment chair legs sprawled either side in some brown cargo shorts (you never wear anything like this usually, unless you're chilling alone like today. It's a nice feeling.) You bring your binoculars back up and to your shock you see antlers in the distance taller and sturdier than any moose, stag, deer, etc. and you watch them through the thick tree line and bushes but for now you can't make out what is underneath them, what strange animal has such sinewy, web-like structures perched upon their head like demon horns or a crown of some sort or something more mysterious and beautiful. Woah. You slide your binoculars down once more to see if you can see all the way out there to see if you can see the antlers past the bush. Yeah, wow, you can. Your one eye still works well. You stare in wonder, how the sun glints off them when it comes out from behind a bush and you see it is no animal but a (woman?) of powerful stature. What? You pull your binocular back up to your eye and you almost lean forward to get a better glance almost out of your chair staring: This thing in the woods is adorned in a black cloak strewn loosely by its sides revealing a humanoid form beneath slim and muscular and much taller than you. Looking down on you with its perfectly triangular snout like this: [[=]] This thing in the woods has eyes that are white that shine and its eyes pierce through the forest like a lightbulb in the dark: but even in the afternoon sun they are so bright and so powerful and shimmering with power and color that you can look at forever but [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/how-to-walk-on-air-and-poetry never ever quite understand] but it reminds you of colors you saw while containing dimensional anomalies and that's a little bit freaky. [[/=]] @@ @@ @@ @@ This thing in the woods is. @@ @@ @@ @@ [[>]] This thing in the woods with its brown fur and stout little snout with a black button nose who looks at you, its forehead, its eyebrows arched as if in concern for you. It stares in an almost loving way and you've worked with furries before. But. You never thought of it that way and now you've honestly found yourself questioning a few things. So you stare back and try to understand its robes and its fur and its eyes and the sinew of its horns and everything about this strange being that is so clearly beyond you, but feels so at home in the forest. [[/>]] @@ @@ @@ @@ //woah// You lower your binoculars, and it is in front of you. In the same gracious pose but suspended off the ground almost equal to where it appeared in the binoculars but now in front of you and your chair. You almost fall out of it wishing you had brought your gun and fuck you knew the woods were dangerous and fuck you wish you had taken your arm after all but it steadies you with a digit somewhere under its front hoof and steadies you until you are still, staring at each other. [[>]] //I have seen you, In the woods perched on your chair. For many years now I have wanted to tell you something very important.// [[/>]] "What?" [[>]] //You must get into the right headspace for me to tell you because you may find it to be -- as you mortals put it-- "a lot." I do not wish to alarm you.// [[/>]] "You're not from this Nexus, are you?" [[>]] //No, but I have worked with your people [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/a-thorley-little-christmas before].// [[/>]] "For some reason, I kind of believe you." You see a great white light surrounding this thing from the forest an ability granted to you by the hole in your face: the sight of truth in other beings and this is the first time you have seen such a white, pure aura, but also such a cold aura as if this being is of snow and your time is melting quickly. "What do you need me to do?" [[>]] //It smiles.// [[/>]] + Fishing. You and the deer goddess of the forest sit side by side on a boat in the middle of the lake fishing. It has been twenty minutes since you met and you've learned a lot about each other-- you told it right off the bat you could see its aura and it said that was okay because it could see yours, too and it apologized when it saw how freaked out that made you even when you didn't say anything. You come to understand this is a shockingly standard forest spirit just a little marred by Foundation intervention into some of its dominant concepts. You never looked into essophysics because that was never your job but you imagine you'd have more frame of reference if you did. In any case: It is avoiding the point. You watch it carefully manipulate its rod with fingers that were not there before a spool of silken thread it brought itself on the end of it. Your rod just has normal wire on it but neither of you have caught anything so maybe to the deer that's just normal wire. It has been forty minutes since you met and you're ready to give in and ask when your line gets a tug and suddenly you look in the water and you see that the biggest catfish you have ever fucking seen is nagging on your fucking line oh my god you try so hard to reel it in and feel it slipping away like //splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash//. When strong arms in velvet robes wrap around your body throes and pull you back into the boat the catfish in tow. You didn't realize you were soaking wet but the deer, standing over you, has now also been made wet, and the fish between you is slapping around drying out. All three of you start laughing. "Do you think you're gonna want to eat this?" [[>]] //I'm vegetarian.// [[/>]] "Oh. Yeah. That would make sense." You take that fat old catfish and you hurl it into the water and watch it disappear into the murky depths for a second time and feel a weird sense of pride like you just discovered something about yourself, so when the sun begins to go down and you take this deer and yourself back to shore you've forgotten that it ever wanted to tell you anything but then it speaks. [[>]] //I wanted to tell you something.// [[/>]] "Oh, yeah, uh-- what's up?" [[>]] //It smiles.// //You deserve to be happy.// [[/>]] And you're taken aback by how to the point it was, for a spiritual lesson from a beyonder-being. You start the long trek home the deer somewhere behind the trees its presence covering you like a velvet robe. + Come back to me. You roll around in bed. [[>]] //You deserve to be happy.// [[/>]] You roll around again. [[>]] //You deserve to be happy.// [[/>]] You flip the pillow over your head. [[>]] //You deserve to be happy.// [[/>]] The sun has barely set but you're beat from a long day of doing things that you enjoy, something you haven't done in a while. It was just things you liked, things that made you happy but you also got to experience them with a friend and that is the nicest feeling in the whole world. You can't sleep even with being physically exhausted because mentally a whole new world has been opened to you. Fuck. Fuck! [[>]] //You deserve to be happy!// [[/>]] Alright, alright! ------ [[div class="indented"]] You flip the card between your fingers, looking back-and-forth and its front and back. It glints under the moonlight. It makes you stare harder, thinking about your decision. He understood you. But he isn't like you. You had a good time. But only under duress. He didn't want to hurt you. But he tried to scare you off. Back and forth. Front and back. Thinking, your eye glinting in the moonlight. You glance out at your yard, where the circle is. It's settled down. Life will grow back over it. The whole thing'll be forgotten. It'll blow over. That's the way of nature. But it isn't the way of people. Maybe you do deserve to be happy. Do something a little risky. The Foundation did approve his appearance here. He's a loyal contractor. You do feel lonely, sometimes, honestly, yes, yeah. Maybe. Maybe. Oh, fuck it. The yard is ruined anyway. You march right out there under moonlight, flip the card over so you can learn the ritual -- yeah, your wards are stronger at night. But that's just how you like it. You feel like he'll like it too. You're not exhausted anymore. You feel happy. You deserve this. Let's get going. You begin the ritual, whatever that means to you, you take a swig of your Scotch, you look out at the tree line and feel the forest looking back at you: //I'm Ira fucking Watts. Fuck yeah, dude.// [[>]] //And you're the forest.// [[/>]] [[/div]] ------ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ *Hello everyone! Thanks for reading my RomCon entry, featuring my own Deer, [[user Raddagher]]'s Ira Watts, and references to [[user Greyve]]'s Belial. This is a direct sequel to Radd's Round One entry, which you can read [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/losers-in-every-dimension here]. You should also __need__ to check out Radd's __amazing__ sequel to my Round One entry, __[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/how-to-walk-on-air-and-poetry How To Walk On Air And Poetry]__. DO IT RIGHT NOW. Happy reading!* [[=]] [[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>]] [[/=]]	2023-06-19T04:13:00	[ "_licensebox", "adventure", "fantasy", "heartwarming", "lgbtq", "poetry", "romance", "romcon2023-unofficial", "second-person", "surrealism", "tale" ]	I Am Ira Watts & You Are The Forest - SCP Foundation	28	[ "losers-in-every-dimension", "scp-6432", "holy-terrors-1", "working-dogs", "how-to-walk-on-air-and-poetry", "a-thorley-little-christmas", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "the-father-the-son-and-the-holy-spirit-hub", "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "romcon" ]	[]	1448528777	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/you-deserve-to-be-happy
you-have-a-doppelgaenger	<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>SCP-XXXX <em>“You Have a Doppelgänger.”</em> by: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;"><img alt="Mew-ltiverse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5271378&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1725332311" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5271378)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;">Mew-ltiverse</a></span> and two of my headmates. For info on that, see the discussion.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-mews-personnel-file">Read more of my stuff</a></p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p>You have a doppelgänger. This would usually shock you. If you were anyone else. But you’re not anyone else. You’re you. So this is just something that you have accepted. You are yourself, and you have a doppelgänger. You spend your days doing things you like to do. Playing games you like, spending time with your family and friends. You don’t actually have that many hobbies. But, that’s who you are. You also spend way too much of your time watching what the doppelgänger is doing. How do you know what the doppelgänger is doing?</p> <p>You just do.</p> <p>What is the doppelgänger doing? Also things you like to do. But, in a different way. The doppelgänger also does not-you-ish things. It is always a surreal experience for you to view these things happening. Because this person in every aspect of the word, is you. They look like you, they sound like you, and they act and think like you.</p> <p>Except for when they don’t.</p> <p>You view them doing these things you would never do. Things that if you did them, you would hate yourself. Things that you almost wish that you did. Which in this case, makes you feel like shit, so you want them to stop. It feels like you reach out to stop them, and in your way is a glass wall. You’re screaming for them to stop. Banging on the wall to get their attention. But they don’t stop.</p> <p>Because they can’t hear you.</p> <p>You wish you could talk to the doppelgänger. Ask them to stop pretending to be you. But the doppelgänger doesn’t know that you exist. That’s right, they have no idea that they are a doppelgänger. You can’t blame them for that. But at the same time, you do. You wish they would stop pretending to be you. You wish people would see you for you, instead of the doppelgänger.</p> <p>But life isn’t fair, is it?</p> <p>One might ask, “Doesn’t everyone else notice the doppelgänger? Do they not find it weird?” The answer to this question is no. No one notices the doppelgänger. Well, they do. But they don’t acknowledge that they’re a doppelgänger. In fact, if one were to compare you two, they would assume that <em>you’re</em> the doppelgänger. Why would one assume that you’re the doppelgänger, one could ask?</p> <p>You don't think you'll ever know.</p> <p>When you view the doppelgänger, it feels as if you’re looking into a distorted mirror. Almost every detail is right. But, no, something is off. Not by a lot. It may not be noticeable to anyone else, but it’s noticeable to you. You can tell. It shouldn’t be off, but it is. You don’t know why. You wish that the mirror wasn’t distorted. You actually can’t tell. Is it the mirror that is distorted, or is it you?</p> <p>Maybe they’re right. Maybe you are the doppelgänger.</p> <p>This thought puts a hollow feeling in your chest. All of these thoughts do. You live through this every day. Every day you view a doppelgänger who thinks they’re you pretending to be you. And everyone thinks that they are you. You wish you could escape this reality. You wish sometimes that they <em>were</em> you, and that you were…</p> <p>Not here.</p> <p>Because of the doppelgänger, what is fact to you is fiction to others. It is your reality. Your truth. But the doppelgänger is their version of you presented to the world. Because that’s all anyone sees. That distorted mirror reflection. You study your reflection. What is off, exactly? Parts of your body. Blemishes and scars, accessories that should be present but aren’t. Parts of your personality. Other details that make your skin crawl. The doppelgänger doesn’t have these attributes that are so uniquely you. Your reflection isn’t accurate. But you must pretend that it is.</p> <p>Because that’s the way things are.</p> <p>Some of the things the doppelgänger does are reprehensible. You don't want to think about it. But you do. The thoughts plague your mind. The sound of the knife tearing against the fabric. Jagged, horrid cuts. The sudden stopping of all sound. The gasps of shock. The looks of horror and dismay. The flood of those you care about asking why you would do such a thing. The looks of betrayal. But you didn't do it. You would never do that. The doppelgänger did. You're begging, pleading for them all to understand that it wasn't you.</p> <p>But, was it not you?</p> <p>The doppelgänger makes your life complicated. You constantly wonder why they exist. Why you? Not that you would wish this upon anyone else. Why at all? You hate them. You hate that they’re pretending to be you. You hate that everyone thinks they’re you. You’re obsessed with them. They make you feel like a stranger in your own skin. That they present as more “you” than you do sometimes. But, they make you feel that if they weren’t there to compare yourself to, who would you be?</p> <p>Would you even exist?</p> <p>The doppelgänger gives you a standard that you can compare yourself to. This isn’t always a bad thing. You think that there are things you don’t do, so you’re better. It raises your ego feeling like you’re better. But then you remember that other people think you do these things. The seeds of anger are planted in their reflection of you. You’re back to feeling like shit.</p> <p>But maybe you should focus on the good.</p> <p>You wonder if there are other doppelgängers. Of other people. How would they feel? Would they feel the same way as you? Would they dislike their doppelgänger more than you do? Would they like their doppelgänger more than you do? You wonder if you have other doppelgängers. Others that you’ve never noticed. How different from you are they? More or less similar than your doppelgänger is? You wonder if doppelgängers are more common than one may think.</p> <p>Is the doppelgänger crucial to your existence?</p> <p>Yes. Without the doppelgänger, you wouldn’t be you. They are unfortunately a part of your existence. Although you hate it, you have a doppelgänger. They pretend to be you. Everyone thinks that they’re you. They do things you wish they wouldn't. This is something that you have accepted. You are yourself, and you have a doppelgänger. Complaining about it won’t make them go away. You have been learning to coexist with them.</p> <p>Maybe one day, everyone else will see you for who you are, instead of what your doppelgänger makes them think you are. Once everyone sees you, the doppelgänger will, too. They'll know that you exist. Who they've been replicating this whole time.</p> <p>Then everyone will know the truth.</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="/you-have-a-doppelgaenger">You Have a Doppelgänger.</a>" by Mew-ltiverse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/you-have-a-doppelgaenger">https://scpwiki.com/you-have-a-doppelgaenger</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:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-animp= --]]] [[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/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] SCP-XXXX //“You Have a Doppelgänger.”// by: [[*user Mew-ltiverse]] and two of my headmates. For info on that, see the discussion. @@ @@ [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-mews-personnel-file Read more of my stuff] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] You have a doppelgänger. This would usually shock you. If you were anyone else. But you’re not anyone else. You’re you. So this is just something that you have accepted. You are yourself, and you have a doppelgänger. You spend your days doing things you like to do. Playing games you like, spending time with your family and friends. You don’t actually have that many hobbies. But, that’s who you are. You also spend way too much of your time watching what the doppelgänger is doing. How do you know what the doppelgänger is doing? You just do. What is the doppelgänger doing? Also things you like to do. But, in a different way. The doppelgänger also does not-you-ish things. It is always a surreal experience for you to view these things happening. Because this person in every aspect of the word, is you. They look like you, they sound like you, and they act and think like you. Except for when they don’t. You view them doing these things you would never do. Things that if you did them, you would hate yourself. Things that you almost wish that you did. Which in this case, makes you feel like shit, so you want them to stop. It feels like you reach out to stop them, and in your way is a glass wall. You’re screaming for them to stop. Banging on the wall to get their attention. But they don’t stop. Because they can’t hear you. You wish you could talk to the doppelgänger. Ask them to stop pretending to be you. But the doppelgänger doesn’t know that you exist. That’s right, they have no idea that they are a doppelgänger. You can’t blame them for that. But at the same time, you do. You wish they would stop pretending to be you. You wish people would see you for you, instead of the doppelgänger. But life isn’t fair, is it? One might ask, “Doesn’t everyone else notice the doppelgänger? Do they not find it weird?” The answer to this question is no. No one notices the doppelgänger. Well, they do. But they don’t acknowledge that they’re a doppelgänger. In fact, if one were to compare you two, they would assume that //you’re// the doppelgänger. Why would one assume that you’re the doppelgänger, one could ask? You don't think you'll ever know. When you view the doppelgänger, it feels as if you’re looking into a distorted mirror. Almost every detail is right. But, no, something is off. Not by a lot. It may not be noticeable to anyone else, but it’s noticeable to you. You can tell. It shouldn’t be off, but it is. You don’t know why. You wish that the mirror wasn’t distorted. You actually can’t tell. Is it the mirror that is distorted, or is it you? Maybe they’re right. Maybe you are the doppelgänger. This thought puts a hollow feeling in your chest. All of these thoughts do. You live through this every day. Every day you view a doppelgänger who thinks they’re you pretending to be you. And everyone thinks that they are you. You wish you could escape this reality. You wish sometimes that they //were// you, and that you were… Not here. Because of the doppelgänger, what is fact to you is fiction to others. It is your reality. Your truth. But the doppelgänger is their version of you presented to the world. Because that’s all anyone sees. That distorted mirror reflection. You study your reflection. What is off, exactly? Parts of your body. Blemishes and scars, accessories that should be present but aren’t. Parts of your personality. Other details that make your skin crawl. The doppelgänger doesn’t have these attributes that are so uniquely you. Your reflection isn’t accurate. But you must pretend that it is. Because that’s the way things are. Some of the things the doppelgänger does are reprehensible. You don't want to think about it. But you do. The thoughts plague your mind. The sound of the knife tearing against the fabric. Jagged, horrid cuts. The sudden stopping of all sound. The gasps of shock. The looks of horror and dismay. The flood of those you care about asking why you would do such a thing. The looks of betrayal. But you didn't do it. You would never do that. The doppelgänger did. You're begging, pleading for them all to understand that it wasn't you. But, was it not you? The doppelgänger makes your life complicated. You constantly wonder why they exist. Why you? Not that you would wish this upon anyone else. Why at all? You hate them. You hate that they’re pretending to be you. You hate that everyone thinks they’re you. You’re obsessed with them. They make you feel like a stranger in your own skin. That they present as more “you” than you do sometimes. But, they make you feel that if they weren’t there to compare yourself to, who would you be? Would you even exist? The doppelgänger gives you a standard that you can compare yourself to. This isn’t always a bad thing. You think that there are things you don’t do, so you’re better. It raises your ego feeling like you’re better. But then you remember that other people think you do these things. The seeds of anger are planted in their reflection of you. You’re back to feeling like shit. But maybe you should focus on the good. You wonder if there are other doppelgängers. Of other people. How would they feel? Would they feel the same way as you? Would they dislike their doppelgänger more than you do? Would they like their doppelgänger more than you do? You wonder if you have other doppelgängers. Others that you’ve never noticed. How different from you are they? More or less similar than your doppelgänger is? You wonder if doppelgängers are more common than one may think. Is the doppelgänger crucial to your existence? Yes. Without the doppelgänger, you wouldn’t be you. They are unfortunately a part of your existence. Although you hate it, you have a doppelgänger. They pretend to be you. Everyone thinks that they’re you. They do things you wish they wouldn't. This is something that you have accepted. You are yourself, and you have a doppelgänger. Complaining about it won’t make them go away. You have been learning to coexist with them. Maybe one day, everyone else will see you for who you are, instead of what your doppelgänger makes them think you are. Once everyone sees you, the doppelgänger will, too. They'll know that you exist. Who they've been replicating this whole time. Then everyone will know the truth. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Mew-ltiverse]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-08-07T01:45:00	[ "_licensebox", "no-dialogue", "reviewers-spotlight", "second-person", "tale" ]	You Have a Doppelgänger. - SCP Foundation	58	[ "dr-mews-personnel-file", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "reviewers-spotlight-archive-ii" ]	[]	1449294407	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/you-have-a-doppelgaenger
you-took-away-my	<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">; 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</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">; 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</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">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">.codebox</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">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">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">.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-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-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</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-number">.75</span><span class="hl-string">em</span><span class="hl-code">; 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</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-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">background:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">gray</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"> gainsboro</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-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">.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">none</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">.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">; </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">.licensebox</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"> unset</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">padding:</span><span class="hl-code"> unset</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">box-shadow:</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">.licensebox</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-string">inherit</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</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-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">.licensebox</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">left</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.licensebox</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">color:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">inherit</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-brackets">}</span></pre></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"> <p><em>You Took Away my—</em> by: <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;"><img alt="Mew-ltiverse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5271378&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728831691" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5271378)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;">Mew-ltiverse</a></span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-mews-personnel-file">Read more of my stuff</a></p> <p>This is the second installment of the series <em>Blood and Gutz</em>!<br/> The first part can be found <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7262" target="_blank">here</a>.<br/> The next part can be found <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flowers-growing-through-the-wood" target="_blank">here</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <p><em>I laugh. “That’s so fucking true.”</em></p> <p><em>We’re laying in <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7262">his</a> bed watching YouTube. Pixel sent us this comedy video he found that ve thought we would find funny. They sent us a version with sprites of characters from a game they like on the screen, in place of the comedian. I don’t mind. The content is the same either way. I’m very particular about what comedians I find funny. Some have the habit of having one good routine, but the rest are littered with homophobic and transphobic rhetoric. But this one is good. Gutz is laying with his head against my chest, his arms draped around my sides. It’s comfortable. We do this whenever I come over and have something to watch.</em></p> <p><em>We continue to watch the video, laughing and commenting on the content. The video comes to an end.</em></p> <p><em>“That was a good one.” I say. I expect Gutz to reply, but it doesn’t.</em></p> <p><em>“Gutz?” I look down. They’re gone. I sit up, looking around the room. I jump off the bed, running to the door, and throw it open. There’s nothing but darkness. The room behind me disappears.</em></p> <p><em>“GUTZ!” I call. I continue to call his name to no avail. For a split second, I can see a figure in the darkness. I run towards it, and reach out my hand.</em></p> <p>My eyes snap open. My hand is outstretched. I put my hand under my head. I lay there for a good few minutes, staring at the bedsheet. Just another one of those dreams. Those dreams where we were together, and everything was normal. But then he disappeared. I wish I could just have a happy dream. One without the disappearing parts. They were all too real.</p> <p>I push myself out of bed. I’m definitely coming back, like I do every morning. I just lay in bed for at least an hour, doing nothing. But I can try to get some food first today. I walk to the kitchen, barely coherent. Feels like I'm going through the motions. Every day is like that now. I open the cabinet and grab that box of oat cereal I bought to convince myself I’m eating healthier, trying to forget that it has the same amount of sugar as that chocolate cereal I like. I need to buy healthier breakfast foods. Or just healthy foods in general. I need to go back to a real grocery store for once, and not that Dollar General that’s five minutes away.</p> <p>I stare at the box for a second before walking over to the cabinet I keep the bowls in. I open it. <em>Oh yeah.</em> My eyes drift over to the dishwasher. I open it, eyeing the four cereal bowls I own entangled with some of my other dishes. I don’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve done the dishes. Probably since before Gutz disappeared. I need to run it, but then that means the sink will pile up again. I look back at the cereal box. I’ll just eat it straight out of the bag. There goes my attempt to do something normal, for once. I go back to my room again and lie down on my bed. I eat a few handfuls of cereal, but I just can't be bothered. I drop the box off the side of my bed, hearing some of the cereal spill out. <em>Oh well.</em> I put my hand under my head again, returning to just staring at the bed sheet. I don’t know how much time passes.</p> <p>I groan, grabbing my phone. It’s about time I check it. I have discord notifications and unread text messages.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Flower and Co.<br/> Also I have something to talk to u about when you get on!!</p> <p>Mary<br/> Yes, I’ll mark you as absent for tomorrow again. Take care, Xander.</p> <p>Flower and Co.<br/> these are for when you wake up obvs!</p> <p>Flower and Co.<br/> Did you have that dream again? Would you like to talk about it, Xander? - Keisuke</p> <p>Flower and Co.<br/> how did you sleep?</p> <p>Flower and Co.<br/> morning!</p> <p>#1 shin simp🧣#funnies<br/> Obviously nothing can make up for what’s going on. But it’s one of my favorite stand up routines that brings a smile to my face</p> <p>#1 shin simp🧣#funnies<br/> Did you like the video? Did it help at all?</p> </div> <p>I unlock my phone. My phone is on a paused screen of the video Pixel sent me with YouTube prompting me to try YouTube premium. I exit the tab, and open my texts.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <h3 id="toc0"><span>Mary</span></h3> <div class="text-container"> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text">Yes, I’ll mark you as absent for tomorrow again. Take care, Xander.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text">Thanks. I’ll try to come in tomorrow.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>I check the general channel.</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:55 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Hey everyone</div> </div> </div> <div class="message seven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">#1 shin simp🧣</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:55 am</div> </div> <div class="content">!!!!<br/> TV! morning!</div> </div> </div> <div class="message three"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flowerpx🌸[🌸🌸]</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:56 am</div> </div> <div class="content">HEY! Did you get my messages?</div> </div> </div> <div class="message eleven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Keisuke[🌸🌸]</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:56 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Give him some breathing room, Flower.</div> </div> </div> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:57 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yeah I did<br/> I just got up</div> </div> </div> <div class="message seven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">#1 shin simp🧣</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:57 am</div> </div> <div class="content">!!!!<br/> I’m tired too man</div> </div> </div> <div class="message eight"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">QUEEN OF CRINGE</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:57 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Hey! I hope you’re all doing well this morning.</div> </div> </div> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:58 am</div> </div> <div class="content">I’m alive, so</div> </div> </div> <div class="message eleven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Keisuke[🌸🌸]</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 9:56 am</div> </div> <div class="content">That’s good enough. It’s been hard for all of us, but you especially.</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>I breathe in. Yeah. It’s been fucking impossible. The person I love the most in the entire world is just gone.</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:00 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yeah</div> </div> </div> <div class="message six"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">🦇goth husband🦇</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:00 am</div> </div> <div class="content">I’ve noticed that you’ve been less expressive lately<br/> Please don’t be afraid to express how you feel<br/> We’re all okay with it</div> </div> </div> <div class="message seven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">#1 shin simp🧣</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:01 am</div> </div> <div class="content">!!!!<br/> Yep, fr you don’t have to just restrict to the vent channels<br/> This has sorta affected the entire mood of everything</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>If I was capable of smiling anymore, I might have done so.</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:01 am</div> </div> <div class="content">I’ve been so in my own head<br/> That I’ve just been afraid<br/> Thank you guys</div> </div> </div> <div class="message three"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flowerpx[🌸🌸]</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:01 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Ofc!</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:03 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yes<br/> I had one of those dreams again</div> </div> </div> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:03 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Poor thing :(<br/> HUGS! (.づ◡﹏◡)づ. - Ayame</div> </div> </div> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:03 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Thanks<br/> What did you want to talk about</div> </div> </div> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:03 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Oh! Sam and I were talking!<br/> So you know how we’re in Missouri?</div> </div> </div> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:03 am</div> </div> <div class="content">… yes?</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>Is she about to say what I think she is?</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:04 am</div> </div> <div class="content">We want to visit you!<br/> If you’re okay with it, of course</div> </div> </div> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:04 am</div> </div> <div class="content">You’re gonna have to spend travel money</div> </div> </div> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:04 am</div> </div> <div class="content">It’s fine! You’re literally only like 3 hours from us</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>I googled “Willow springs to searcy”. They’re right. That is decently close.</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Look, you’re going through a lot right now, Xander. We wanna help. - Sam<br/> <em>nods</em> - Ayame</div> </div> </div> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">If you’re sure</div> </div> </div> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Of course we’re sure! We have to take off work, so it’s gonna be a few weeks. Think you can last?</div> </div> </div> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">I’ll try<br/> How long do you plan to stay</div> </div> </div> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">We can only stay off work for a couple of weeks. But! Hopefully those few weeks with a friend will be worth something, yeah?</div> </div> </div> <div class="message nine"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Telecryptid</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yeah.<br/> I appreciate this a lot, Flower, Sam, everyone</div> </div> </div> <div class="message ten"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flower and Co.</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:05 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Ofc!</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>I could feel the corners of my mouth twitch. It was trying to curve upwards. But it failed. Maybe I can smile again when Flower comes. I’ll ask her more about that later. I want to update everyone with my plans for the day.</p> <p>I go back to the general channel.</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:07 am</div> </div> <div class="content">So I was thinking I sneak into Gutz house today</div> </div> </div> <div class="message two"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">🦐🦐🦐🦐</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:07 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yo! Be careful!!!!!</div> </div> </div> <div class="message eight"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">QUEEN OF CRINGE</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:07 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yes, please don’t get caught!</div> </div> </div> <div class="message seven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">#1 shin simp🧣</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:08 am</div> </div> <div class="content">You’re above the police, fuck em! But yeah don’t get caught</div> </div> </div> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:08 am</div> </div> <div class="content">I’ll report to you guys if I find anything</div> </div> </div> <div class="message six"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">🦇goth husband🦇</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:08 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Yes, be careful<br/> I am curious if you’ll find anything of note tho</div> </div> </div> <div class="message one"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">📺Local TV Man📺</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 10:08 am</div> </div> <div class="content">Me too</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>I set my phone down, taking a deep breath. I’ve been putting off doing this. I’m afraid of what I’ll find. But, if there was something to find, wouldn’t the police report it to me or at least Aaron? Who knows, honestly. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t even trying to find them. I’ve heard countless true crime cases that Damien shared with me of the police calling disappearances as runaways and sitting on their asses the whole time.</p> <p>I sit up, staring at the wall in front of my bed, where the artwork Gutz did for me was displayed. The ones it did of us together are my favorites. I always told them I wish we could have a photograph of us together. But he always said the artwork was the best I’d get. Which wasn’t an issue for me. Their art is so stylized, I love how they draw us. But now these drawings are all I have. I shake my head, letting myself come back to the present.</p> <p>“C’mon Xander. Let’s go.” I say to myself.</p> <hr/> <p>I had to park a decent bit away to avoid suspicion. I’ve been walking for five minutes. I’ve not been getting out of my bed much, so my muscles have started to weaken. I sigh in relief as I approach the back gate. I opened the gate, actually being happy for once that Gutz refused to get a lock installed on the gate. I trudged through all the dead leaves that had been here for far past their prime, up to the back door. I slip the key out of my jacket pocket, fiddling with the keychain I had it attached to, sticking it inside the lock. I take a deep breath. You can do this, Xander. I turn the lock, gently opening the door. I slip the key back into my pocket, closing the door softly behind me.</p> <p>I’m suddenly hit with this putrid smell, causing me to slap my hand over my nose and mouth. I cautiously walk further into the kitchen. The sink was piled with dishes coated in food and mold. I could see dozens of gnats, flies, and roaches crawling amongst the dishes and counter covered in wrappers for frozen meals, chips, and soda cans. The garbage can was stuffed open with trash that clearly didn’t fit, extra wrappers and trash pulling up on the floor next to it. I feel a pain in my heart. This was just… depressing. <em>Is this why Gutz was so reluctant to have me over?</em> I… can’t spend too much time here.</p> <p>I make my way to the bedroom, opening the door. I am greeted with more garbage, the same sight of food wrappers, soda cans, and leftovers piling on the ground next to their bed. I felt tears brim my eyes. It really got this bad.</p> <p><em>They felt like they couldn’t tell me.</em></p> <p>I wipe my eyes, and breathe in through my nose. I can’t do this now. I decide to breathe in through my mouth, the smell of the garbage was overwhelming, giving me a headache. I walked over to the nightstand. No phone, no tablet, no computer. But his chargers were still here. That didn’t make sense. His car was totaled, so he couldn’t have driven it. He has a charger in his car. So this would make sense if they had their car, but they don’t. I turn to his bed, reaching my hand inside the pillow case, feeling a sinking feeling upon feeling the crease of the envelope. <em>Why was it still here? If they ran away, for sure they’d take it. There’s no reason he wouldn’t, right?</em> I hesitate for a moment before deciding to grab the envelope, slipping it into my pocket.</p> <p>I stand back for a second, eyeing the room as a whole. It didn’t look like anything except his electronics were missing. I walk over to the desk, looking in one of the compartments underneath. His sketchbooks are still here. I begin to look at each cover, taking the sketch books out from the compartment, laying them out on the desk. His two most recent ones were missing. I don’t understand. Why? The one he used right before recent was almost full. I looked around the rest of the area. It seems like all of his art supplies are still here, even his pocket kit. <em>Why take the sketchbooks and not any supplies?</em> This doesn’t make sense to me.</p> <p>I suddenly hear a noise. A car pulled up in front of the house. I peeked out the window, making sure to only ever so slightly move the curtain. I felt my blood go cold. A police car. Shit. They walked up to the door. <em>How did they know that I was here? What the fuck? Goddamnit, think, Xander!</em> I rush to put the sketchbooks back where I found them. I heard them fiddling with the doorknob. I gun it to the garage door, attempting to make my steps as light as possible. I stare at the front door as I nervously open the door as quietly as I can. Right as I shut the garage door behind me, I hear the front door open. I’d sigh in relief if it wouldn’t be so loud. I’m still holding my breath. This will only buy me so much time. I need to think of a way to get out. I look above me. The attic. But it would surely make a noise if I entered, right? Shiiit. What do I do?</p> <p>I hear them call to each other.</p> <p>“No one in here!” I hear through the door.</p> <p>“I heard something, there’s gotta be someone here.”</p> <p><em>It doesn’t make sense to me how they even knew! God… what to do. Maybe…</em> I glance around. I notice the closet at the back of the garage. It’s packed full with boxes. So if the police have scouted out the house, they wouldn’t assume a person could fit. I don’t know how much of this house they’ve explored. But, it’s worth a shot. Before I start for the back, I have an idea. I can mislead them. I'm tall enough that when I'm standing on the bench, I can pull the string on the attic hatch, juuuuuust a tad. To lead them there.</p> <p>I hurry off the bench, then creep to the back of the garage, sweating as I fiddle with the crack in the door, which was luckily open just enough already for me to barely squeeze myself inside. I feel the boxes poking me everywhere, my ribs hurting as I pressed against the door. I was just able to fit inside. I’m definitely crushing what ever is in these. Sorry, Gutz.</p> <p>I hear the garage door open.</p> <p>“Is anyone here? This is an active crime scene!” One of the police officers call. “Look everywhere!” They call.</p> <p>I’m holding my breath, snapping my eyes shut in fear. Look, God, I know I’m not your biggest fan, but please do me a favor here.</p> <p>I hear one of the officers get closer. I can’t really tell what they’re doing. Please don’t find me please don’t find me please don’t find me—</p> <p>They fiddle with the door. “Door’s pretty jammed, looks like it’s just boxes.” I can hear them leaving the area. “Hey, the attic hatch wasn’t like that last time! Pull the attic and look inside!”</p> <p>I bit my tongue to stop myself from making any sound. I can hear them pulling the stairs from the attic. I hear steps on the attic.</p> <p>“I’ll look in the attic. Tell me if you see any sign of We—“</p> <p>“Of an intruder. Yes.”</p> <p>I feel my entire body freeze. If I’m not mistaken, that officer was going to say “Wells”.</p> <p><em>Do they know it’s me?</em></p> <p>I sit listening to the sounds around me. I must start to dissociate, blankly listening to the sounds around me. Eventually, I hear the sound of someone coming down from the attic.</p> <p>“There’s no one up there. He must have exited the house before we entered.”</p> <p>“But we would’ve seen him exit out the back!”</p> <p>“True, Carter and Ellis checked the back, no sign of him. When we get back to control we can check the cameras to see if he was in the house.”</p> <p><em>Cameras? They put fucking cameras in the house? Why? Jesus Christ, I can never come back. How am I ever gonna get out?</em></p> <p>“Come on, let’s go regroup out front. We can decide what to do after we discuss.”</p> <p>The two officers exited. It was a good minute until I exhaled. <em>Thank fucking god. I thought I was done for.</em> I wait another ten minutes until I decide it’s probably safe. I squeeze myself out of the closet the same way I entered, and fall to the ground, catching myself on my hands and knees.</p> <p>“Jesus Christ that hurts!” I exclaim, pushing myself to stand. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve got some bruises from those boxes poking me. I re-enter the house, incredibly nervous with my newfound knowledge of cameras. I sprint to the door I entered from, slipping out the back. I see no police cars. Still, I book it to my car, only exhaling again once I’m safely inside. I sit there for a few moments, allowing my breath to catch up.</p> <p>“God fucking damnit. What am I dealing with?”</p> <hr/> <p>“Okay okay, <em>now</em> you can ask questions,” I say. As soon as I explained that things were strange, Pixel, Lexi, Flower, Shrimp, and Ren all agreed to call.</p> <p>“So you hid in the closet the whole time? And they didn’t find you? Fucking damn! Stupid pigs!” Pixel exclaims.</p> <p>“And they appeared to have been aware that it was you. How did they assume this?” Ren asks.</p> <p>“That’s the thing, I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “It fucking freaks me out.”</p> <p>“This makes me think something else is going on.” Flower points out. “Like, I don’t know. But the fact that they knew it was you is weird.”</p> <p>“I’m just really glad you’re safe,” Lexi says in her usual soft tone. “Please double-check to make sure you didn't get hurt more than you thought.”</p> <p>“I checked. Just a bruise or so. I’m fine.” I ensured. Physically, mostly. I sighed. “I’m just left with so many questions.”</p> <p>“I think we all are.” Shrimp agrees.</p> <p>The group of them all made sounds of agreement.</p> <p>“Well, I think if you go back, you destroy the cameras.” Pixel suggests.</p> <p>“Are you crazy? He almost got caught as is!” Lexi exclaims. “TV, I really think you should just take this as a sign to not go back. You could’ve gotten hurt, or in trouble.”</p> <p>“But he can’t just stop looking! Something is fishy about this!” Pixel argues back.</p> <p>“How about we let Xander decide,” Flower says. By the way her voice got lower, I could tell Keisuke said that.</p> <p>“Yeah…” I reply. I was going to say something else, but there was a knock at my door. “Ah shit. Let me go see what that is.” I slip off the bed, then walk to up the front door, looking through the peephole, audibly gasping. “It’s the cops!” I exclaim in a whisper.</p> <p>“Oh my god! I wonder if they have news!” Shrimp exclaims.</p> <p>“Or if they followed you home!” Lexi worries.</p> <p>“Everyone, mute. I’ll let you listen.” I instruct. After I saw the mute icon next to each of their names, I slip my phone into my jacket pocket. I open the door.</p> <p>“Afternoon, officer,” I say, trying not to let my nerves affect me.</p> <p>“Hello, Mr. Wells. We wanted to ask you a couple of questions regarding Jonathan Everett.” The police officer informs.</p> <p>“Sure, anything. Do you uh… have any updates regarding the case? Um… what may have happened to him?” I step aside, allowing the two officers to enter. I close the door behind them.</p> <p>“I am Officer Evans, this is Officer Lee.” One of the officers informs as we settle at the kitchen table.</p> <p>I nodded. “Nice to meet you. What was it that you wanted to ask me?” I ask. It could be a lot of things.</p> <p>“It has come to our attention that a spare key exists for Mr. Everett’s home. We would like to know if you are in possession of this spare. His house is an active crime scene, so entrance is prohibited.” Evans explains.</p> <p>I feel something shake within me. Did they know? I nodded slowly. “Yes. I have a key. Um, I can go get that.” I say shakily. <em>Crap. That is my last hope.</em></p> <p>“That would be great.” Lee replies.</p> <p>I walked to my bedroom. I pulled out my phone.</p> <p>#VC-CHAT</p> <div class="discord"> <div class="messages-panel"> <div class="messages-group"> <div class="messages"> <div class="message two"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">🦐🦐🦐🦐</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 12:20 pm</div> </div> <div class="content">CRAPPPPPP</div> </div> </div> <div class="message seven"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">#1 shin simp🧣</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 12:20 pm</div> </div> <div class="content">OH MY HOOODID<br/> GODISS<br/> NOIOO<br/> UR KEY</div> </div> </div> <div class="message eight"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">QUEEN OF CRINGE</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 12:20 pm</div> </div> <div class="content">Do they know? 😥</div> </div> </div> <div class="message three"> <div class="body"> <div class="userblock"> <div class="user-name">Flowerpx🌸[🌸🌸]</div> <div class="msg-time">06/01/2022 12:20 pm</div> </div> <div class="content">Everyone calm! It’s okay!</div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> <p>I take a shaky breath, grabbing the key from inside my nightstand. I take a picture, just in case I could get in replicated. I slipped my phone back into my pocket. My thoughts were rushing in so fast. <em>Did they know? Are they aware? What prompted them to ask now? Am I gonna get in trouble?</em> I shove my thoughts down as I walk back to the kitchen, sitting back at the table.</p> <p>“Here you are.” I slip the key over to Evans, feeling how badly I just wanted to not let go of that key as I remove my fingers from it.</p> <p>“Thank you. We will return it to you in the case that Mr. Everett is returned safely home.”</p> <p><em>Returned safely home.</em> How badly I wish that would happen. I nod. “Is that all?”</p> <p>Lee nods. “We unfortunately have no updates other than that. We thank you for your cooperation.”</p> <p>I nod absently, moving through the motions as I escorted them out, watching as my last hope left my vicinity.</p> <p>“They’re gone. You can all unmute.” I say.</p> <p>Everyone begins to talk over each other.</p> <p>“I can’t fucking believe those shitheads!” Pixel starts.</p> <p>“They took the key! What will you do?” Shrimp exclaims.</p> <p>“Everyone! Calm down!” Flower reminds.</p> <p>“What if they knew?” Lexi worries.</p> <p>“Then they would have told him.” Ren reasons. “It seems it was just a matter of security.”</p> <p>“But why within an hour of his arrival home?” Lexi replies.</p> <p>“Everyone!” Flower exclaims louder with more authority. “Calm down!”</p> <p>“It’s okay,” I say calmly. I can feel my brain began to wander, the dissociation kicking in. “I think I just need to be alone right now.”</p> <p>“We get it, TV. We’ll see you in a bit, okay?” Flower says kindly.</p> <p>“Yeah,” I reply. I let everyone say their goodbyes, then left the call. I wandered back to my room, laying on the bed.</p> <p>This feels like hell. My last connection, my last way to get answers. It was gone. I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and removed the contents. I stared at it for who knows how long. It takes me a little bit to notice that I started to cry. I hug the envelope contents against my chest, allowing myself to just be in the moment, my tears getting heavier. I feel something click within me. Anger. Despite my shaky hands, I carefully put the contents of the envelope back, setting it on my nightstand. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes.</p> <p>I scream as loud as I can.</p> <p>I scream for as long as I can without taking another breath, angrily throwing pillows off of my bed onto the ground. When I finish, I can feel myself trembling. I feel sick. <em>This isn't fair. Why is this happening, anyway?</em></p> <p>"Fucking— I don't know what the hell is going on! Whoever the fuck is in charge of things, fuck you! Fuck you for doing this to us! <em>Fuck you</em>!" I scream vehemently. I lay down on my bed, feeling dehydrated and tired.</p> <p>It's clear that things will never get any easier.</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 class="blockquote"> <p style="text-align: center;"><strong>SURVEILLANCE REPORT</strong></p> <hr/> <p><strong>DATE:</strong> 06/01/2022</p> <p><strong>TIME:</strong> 11:13 to 11:52; 00:39 Total</p> <p><strong>SUBJECT(S) MONITORED:</strong> LOI-6822 (SCP-7262's Former Residence)</p> <hr/> <p>At approximately 11:13, POI-8923 (Xander R. Wells) entered the premises of LOI-6822 through the rear-facing gate.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-1" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-1')">1</a></sup> POI-8923 then proceeded to enter the rear-facing entrance to LOI-6822 using a previously unknown key to LOI-6822.</p> <p>The only notable action POI-8923 took within LOI-6822 was obtaining an envelope from within SCP-7262's pillowcase.<sup class="footnoteref"><a class="footnoteref" href="javascript:;" id="footnoteref-2" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnote-2')">2</a></sup> POI-8923 was able to avoid apprehension by Field Team India-12.</p> <p>In a follow-up operation, Agents Jeremy Evans and Destiny Lee were successfully able to retrieve POI-8923's key to LOI-6822.</p> <p>No further action necessary.</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>. A padlock requiring a key has since been added to deter future trespassing attempts</div> <div class="footnote-footer" id="footnote-2"><a href="javascript:;" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.utils.scrollToReference('footnoteref-2')">2</a>. <em>I would advise against questioning SCP-7262 about the contents of the envelope, at least for the moment.</em> -Dr. Kenneth Hart</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="/you-took-away-my">You Took Away my—</a>" by Mew-ltiverse, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/you-took-away-my">https://scpwiki.com/you-took-away-my</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>: Call.png<br/> <strong>Author</strong>: Drawn and edited by <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;"><img alt="Mew-ltiverse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5271378&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728831691" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5271378)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;">Mew-ltiverse</a></span>, for the sources for the pfps see <a href="/scp-7262">SCP-7262</a>'s licensing box<br/> <strong>License</strong>: CC-BY-SA wiki license<br/> <strong>Source</strong>: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Call.png">https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Call.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename</strong>: Xander.png<br/> <strong>Author</strong>: Drawn by me, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;"><img alt="Mew-ltiverse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5271378&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728831691" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5271378)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;">Mew-ltiverse</a></span><br/> <strong>License</strong>: CC-BY-SA wiki license<br/> <strong>Source</strong>: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Xander.png">https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Xander.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename</strong>: XG.png<br/> <strong>Author</strong>: Drawn by me, <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;"><img alt="Mew-ltiverse" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5271378&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1728831691" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5271378)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/mew-ltiverse" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5271378); return false;">Mew-ltiverse</a></span><br/> <strong>License</strong>: CC-BY-SA wiki license<br/> <strong>Source</strong>: <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/XG.png">https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/XG.png</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename</strong>: Keisukea.png<br/> <strong>Author</strong>: Unstated<br/> <strong>License</strong>: CC0<br/> <strong>Source</strong>: <a href="https://publicdomainq.net/samurai-swordfighter-0055268/">https://publicdomainq.net/samurai-swordfighter-0055268/</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> <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>Mew-ltiverse'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-5095">SCP-5095</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5551">SCP-5551</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4482">SCP-4482</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7747">SCP-7747</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8319">SCP-8319</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7489">SCP-7489</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4939">SCP-4939</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7262">SCP-7262</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4542">SCP-4542</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-5955">SCP-5955</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8881">SCP-8881</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4648">SCP-4648</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7226">SCP-7226</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4846">SCP-4846</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-4208">SCP-4208</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="/that-day">THAT DAY.</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/messaging-crustaceans">Messaging Crustaceans</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/open-anissist2-0">Open anissist2.0?</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/flowers-growing-through-the-wood">Flowers Growing Through the Wood</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/her-final-thoughts">Her Final Thoughts</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scarlett-s-letters">Scarlett's Letters</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/capture-hi-s-heart-m">Capture Hi(s Heart)m</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-talk-with-a-stranger-in-the-forest">A Talk With a Stranger in the Forest</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/you-have-a-doppelgaenger">You Have a Doppelgänger.</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/erics-journal">Eric’s Journal</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="/dr-mews-personnel-file">Dr. Mew’s Personnel File</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> </div></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter">:scp-wiki:component:pride-highlighter</a> \|inc-plgbt= --]]] [[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>]] //You Took Away my—// by: [[user Mew-ltiverse]] @@ @@ [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-mews-personnel-file Read more of my stuff] This is the second installment of the series //Blood and Gutz//! The first part can be found [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7262 \| here]]]. The next part can be found [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/flowers-growing-through-the-wood \| here]]]. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-source= --]]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=one \|username=Telecryptid \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Xandera.png \|usercolor=#5ca0ff ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=two \|username=🦐🦐🦐🦐 \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Shrimpa.png \|usercolor=#ffdc69 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=three \|username=Flowerpx🌸[🌸🌸] \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Flowerpxa.png \|usercolor=#ffa6f0 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=four \|username=♕ 𝒟𝑅𝐸𝒜𝑀 𝒫𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒞𝐸 ♕ \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Princea.png \|usercolor=#ffcc54 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=five \|username=Bees \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Beesa.png \|usercolor=#5ccca7 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=six \|username=🦇goth husband🦇 \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Gothha.png \|usercolor=#312447 ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=seven \|username=#1 shin simp🧣 \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Shina.png \|usercolor=#174a1f ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=eight \|username=QUEEN OF CRINGE \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Queena.png \|usercolor=#98ff4f ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Xandera.png \|usercolor=#ffffff ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=ten \|username=Flowerpx🌸[🌸🌸] \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-7262/Flowerpxa.png \|usercolor=#ffffff ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-user= --] \|user-id=eleven \|username=Keisuke \|usericon=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Keisuke.png \|usercolor=#ffffff ]] [[module css]] .msg-time{ margin-bottom:2px; } .message.eleven > .body > .userblock > .user-name:after{ content:"BOT"; color:white; display:inline-block; font-size:10px; background:#5865f2; border-radius:3px; font-weight:bold; padding:0 4px 0 4px; margin-left:0.3rem; } [[/module]] //I laugh. “That’s so fucking true.”// //We’re laying in [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7262 \| his]]] bed watching YouTube. Pixel sent us this comedy video he found that ve thought we would find funny. They sent us a version with sprites of characters from a game they like on the screen, in place of the comedian. I don’t mind. The content is the same either way. I’m very particular about what comedians I find funny. Some have the habit of having one good routine, but the rest are littered with homophobic and transphobic rhetoric. But this one is good. Gutz is laying with his head against my chest, his arms draped around my sides. It’s comfortable. We do this whenever I come over and have something to watch.// //We continue to watch the video, laughing and commenting on the content. The video comes to an end.// //“That was a good one.” I say. I expect Gutz to reply, but it doesn’t.// //“Gutz?” I look down. They’re gone. I sit up, looking around the room. I jump off the bed, running to the door, and throw it open. There’s nothing but darkness. The room behind me disappears.// //“GUTZ!” I call. I continue to call his name to no avail. For a split second, I can see a figure in the darkness. I run towards it, and reach out my hand.// My eyes snap open. My hand is outstretched. I put my hand under my head. I lay there for a good few minutes, staring at the bedsheet. Just another one of those dreams. Those dreams where we were together, and everything was normal. But then he disappeared. I wish I could just have a happy dream. One without the disappearing parts. They were all too real. I push myself out of bed. I’m definitely coming back, like I do every morning. I just lay in bed for at least an hour, doing nothing. But I can try to get some food first today. I walk to the kitchen, barely coherent. Feels like I'm going through the motions. Every day is like that now. I open the cabinet and grab that box of oat cereal I bought to convince myself I’m eating healthier, trying to forget that it has the same amount of sugar as that chocolate cereal I like. I need to buy healthier breakfast foods. Or just healthy foods in general. I need to go back to a real grocery store for once, and not that Dollar General that’s five minutes away. I stare at the box for a second before walking over to the cabinet I keep the bowls in. I open it. //Oh yeah.// My eyes drift over to the dishwasher. I open it, eyeing the four cereal bowls I own entangled with some of my other dishes. I don’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve done the dishes. Probably since before Gutz disappeared. I need to run it, but then that means the sink will pile up again. I look back at the cereal box. I’ll just eat it straight out of the bag. There goes my attempt to do something normal, for once. I go back to my room again and lie down on my bed. I eat a few handfuls of cereal, but I just can't be bothered. I drop the box off the side of my bed, hearing some of the cereal spill out. //Oh well.// I put my hand under my head again, returning to just staring at the bed sheet. I don’t know how much time passes. [[=image Xander.png width="350px"]] I groan, grabbing my phone. It’s about time I check it. I have discord notifications and unread text messages. [[div class="blockquote"]] Flower and Co. Also I have something to talk to u about when you get on!! Mary Yes, I’ll mark you as absent for tomorrow again. Take care, Xander. Flower and Co. these are for when you wake up obvs! Flower and Co. Did you have that dream again? Would you like to talk about it, Xander? - Keisuke Flower and Co. how did you sleep? Flower and Co. morning! #1 shin simp🧣#funnies Obviously nothing can make up for what’s going on. But it’s one of my favorite stand up routines that brings a smile to my face #1 shin simp🧣#funnies Did you like the video? Did it help at all? [[/div]] I unlock my phone. My phone is on a paused screen of the video Pixel sent me with YouTube prompting me to try YouTube premium. I exit the tab, and open my texts. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] +++ Mary [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]Yes, I’ll mark you as absent for tomorrow again. Take care, Xander.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]Thanks. I’ll try to come in tomorrow.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] I check the general channel. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:55 am ]] Hey everyone [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=seven \|username=#1 shin simp🧣 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:55 am ]] !!!! TV! morning! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=three \|username= Flowerpx🌸[🌸🌸] \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:56 am ]] HEY! Did you get my messages? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=eleven \|username= Keisuke[🌸🌸] \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:56 am ]] Give him some breathing room, Flower. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:57 am ]] Yeah I did I just got up [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=seven \|username=#1 shin simp🧣 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:57 am ]] !!!! I’m tired too man [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=eight \|username=QUEEN OF CRINGE \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:57 am ]] Hey! I hope you’re all doing well this morning. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:58 am ]] I’m alive, so [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=eleven \|username= Keisuke[🌸🌸] \|msg-time=06/01/2022 9:56 am ]] That’s good enough. It’s been hard for all of us, but you especially. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] I breathe in. Yeah. It’s been fucking impossible. The person I love the most in the entire world is just gone. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:00 am ]] Yeah [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=six \|username=🦇goth husband🦇 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:00 am ]] I’ve noticed that you’ve been less expressive lately Please don’t be afraid to express how you feel We’re all okay with it [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=seven \|username=#1 shin simp🧣 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:01 am ]] !!!! Yep, fr you don’t have to just restrict to the vent channels This has sorta affected the entire mood of everything [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] If I was capable of smiling anymore, I might have done so. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:01 am ]] I’ve been so in my own head That I’ve just been afraid Thank you guys [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=three \|username= Flowerpx[🌸🌸] \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:01 am ]] Ofc! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:03 am ]] Yes I had one of those dreams again [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:03 am ]] Poor thing :( HUGS! (.づ◡﹏◡)づ. - Ayame [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:03 am ]] Thanks What did you want to talk about [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:03 am ]] Oh! Sam and I were talking! So you know how we’re in Missouri? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:03 am ]] … yes? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] Is she about to say what I think she is? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:04 am ]] We want to visit you! If you’re okay with it, of course [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:04 am ]] You’re gonna have to spend travel money [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:04 am ]] It’s fine! You’re literally only like 3 hours from us [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] I googled “Willow springs to searcy”. They’re right. That is decently close. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] Look, you’re going through a lot right now, Xander. We wanna help. - Sam //nods// - Ayame [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] If you’re sure [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] Of course we’re sure! We have to take off work, so it’s gonna be a few weeks. Think you can last? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] I’ll try How long do you plan to stay [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] We can only stay off work for a couple of weeks. But! Hopefully those few weeks with a friend will be worth something, yeah? [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=nine \|username=Telecryptid \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] Yeah. I appreciate this a lot, Flower, Sam, everyone [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=ten \|username= Flower and Co. \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:05 am ]] Ofc! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] I could feel the corners of my mouth twitch. It was trying to curve upwards. But it failed. Maybe I can smile again when Flower comes. I’ll ask her more about that later. I want to update everyone with my plans for the day. I go back to the general channel. [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:07 am ]] So I was thinking I sneak into Gutz house today [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=two \|username=🦐🦐🦐🦐 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:07 am ]] Yo! Be careful!!!!! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=eight \|username=QUEEN OF CRINGE \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:07 am ]] Yes, please don’t get caught! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=seven \|username=#1 shin simp🧣 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:08 am ]] You’re above the police, fuck em! But yeah don’t get caught [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:08 am ]] I’ll report to you guys if I find anything [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=six \|username=🦇goth husband🦇 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:08 am ]] Yes, be careful I am curious if you’ll find anything of note tho [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=one \|username=📺Local TV Man📺 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 10:08 am ]] Me too [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] I set my phone down, taking a deep breath. I’ve been putting off doing this. I’m afraid of what I’ll find. But, if there was something to find, wouldn’t the police report it to me or at least Aaron? Who knows, honestly. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t even trying to find them. I’ve heard countless true crime cases that Damien shared with me of the police calling disappearances as runaways and sitting on their asses the whole time. I sit up, staring at the wall in front of my bed, where the artwork Gutz did for me was displayed. The ones it did of us together are my favorites. I always told them I wish we could have a photograph of us together. But he always said the artwork was the best I’d get. Which wasn’t an issue for me. Their art is so stylized, I love how they draw us. But now these drawings are all I have. I shake my head, letting myself come back to the present. [[=image XG.png width="350px"]] “C’mon Xander. Let’s go.” I say to myself. ------ I had to park a decent bit away to avoid suspicion. I’ve been walking for five minutes. I’ve not been getting out of my bed much, so my muscles have started to weaken. I sigh in relief as I approach the back gate. I opened the gate, actually being happy for once that Gutz refused to get a lock installed on the gate. I trudged through all the dead leaves that had been here for far past their prime, up to the back door. I slip the key out of my jacket pocket, fiddling with the keychain I had it attached to, sticking it inside the lock. I take a deep breath. You can do this, Xander. I turn the lock, gently opening the door. I slip the key back into my pocket, closing the door softly behind me. I’m suddenly hit with this putrid smell, causing me to slap my hand over my nose and mouth. I cautiously walk further into the kitchen. The sink was piled with dishes coated in food and mold. I could see dozens of gnats, flies, and roaches crawling amongst the dishes and counter covered in wrappers for frozen meals, chips, and soda cans. The garbage can was stuffed open with trash that clearly didn’t fit, extra wrappers and trash pulling up on the floor next to it. I feel a pain in my heart. This was just… depressing. //Is this why Gutz was so reluctant to have me over?// I… can’t spend too much time here. I make my way to the bedroom, opening the door. I am greeted with more garbage, the same sight of food wrappers, soda cans, and leftovers piling on the ground next to their bed. I felt tears brim my eyes. It really got this bad. //They felt like they couldn’t tell me.// I wipe my eyes, and breathe in through my nose. I can’t do this now. I decide to breathe in through my mouth, the smell of the garbage was overwhelming, giving me a headache. I walked over to the nightstand. No phone, no tablet, no computer. But his chargers were still here. That didn’t make sense. His car was totaled, so he couldn’t have driven it. He has a charger in his car. So this would make sense if they had their car, but they don’t. I turn to his bed, reaching my hand inside the pillow case, feeling a sinking feeling upon feeling the crease of the envelope. //Why was it still here? If they ran away, for sure they’d take it. There’s no reason he wouldn’t, right?// I hesitate for a moment before deciding to grab the envelope, slipping it into my pocket. I stand back for a second, eyeing the room as a whole. It didn’t look like anything except his electronics were missing. I walk over to the desk, looking in one of the compartments underneath. His sketchbooks are still here. I begin to look at each cover, taking the sketch books out from the compartment, laying them out on the desk. His two most recent ones were missing. I don’t understand. Why? The one he used right before recent was almost full. I looked around the rest of the area. It seems like all of his art supplies are still here, even his pocket kit. //Why take the sketchbooks and not any supplies?// This doesn’t make sense to me. I suddenly hear a noise. A car pulled up in front of the house. I peeked out the window, making sure to only ever so slightly move the curtain. I felt my blood go cold. A police car. Shit. They walked up to the door. //How did they know that I was here? What the fuck? Goddamnit, think, Xander!// I rush to put the sketchbooks back where I found them. I heard them fiddling with the doorknob. I gun it to the garage door, attempting to make my steps as light as possible. I stare at the front door as I nervously open the door as quietly as I can. Right as I shut the garage door behind me, I hear the front door open. I’d sigh in relief if it wouldn’t be so loud. I’m still holding my breath. This will only buy me so much time. I need to think of a way to get out. I look above me. The attic. But it would surely make a noise if I entered, right? Shiiit. What do I do? I hear them call to each other. “No one in here!” I hear through the door. “I heard something, there’s gotta be someone here.” //It doesn’t make sense to me how they even knew! God… what to do. Maybe…// I glance around. I notice the closet at the back of the garage. It’s packed full with boxes. So if the police have scouted out the house, they wouldn’t assume a person could fit. I don’t know how much of this house they’ve explored. But, it’s worth a shot. Before I start for the back, I have an idea. I can mislead them. I'm tall enough that when I'm standing on the bench, I can pull the string on the attic hatch, juuuuuust a tad. To lead them there. I hurry off the bench, then creep to the back of the garage, sweating as I fiddle with the crack in the door, which was luckily open just enough already for me to barely squeeze myself inside. I feel the boxes poking me everywhere, my ribs hurting as I pressed against the door. I was just able to fit inside. I’m definitely crushing what ever is in these. Sorry, Gutz. I hear the garage door open. “Is anyone here? This is an active crime scene!” One of the police officers call. “Look everywhere!” They call. I’m holding my breath, snapping my eyes shut in fear. Look, God, I know I’m not your biggest fan, but please do me a favor here. I hear one of the officers get closer. I can’t really tell what they’re doing. Please don’t find me please don’t find me please don’t find me— They fiddle with the door. “Door’s pretty jammed, looks like it’s just boxes.” I can hear them leaving the area. “Hey, the attic hatch wasn’t like that last time! Pull the attic and look inside!” I bit my tongue to stop myself from making any sound. I can hear them pulling the stairs from the attic. I hear steps on the attic. “I’ll look in the attic. Tell me if you see any sign of We—“ “Of an intruder. Yes.” I feel my entire body freeze. If I’m not mistaken, that officer was going to say “Wells”. //Do they know it’s me?// I sit listening to the sounds around me. I must start to dissociate, blankly listening to the sounds around me. Eventually, I hear the sound of someone coming down from the attic. “There’s no one up there. He must have exited the house before we entered.” “But we would’ve seen him exit out the back!” “True, Carter and Ellis checked the back, no sign of him. When we get back to control we can check the cameras to see if he was in the house.” //Cameras? They put fucking cameras in the house? Why? Jesus Christ, I can never come back. How am I ever gonna get out?// “Come on, let’s go regroup out front. We can decide what to do after we discuss.” The two officers exited. It was a good minute until I exhaled. //Thank fucking god. I thought I was done for.// I wait another ten minutes until I decide it’s probably safe. I squeeze myself out of the closet the same way I entered, and fall to the ground, catching myself on my hands and knees. “Jesus Christ that hurts!” I exclaim, pushing myself to stand. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve got some bruises from those boxes poking me. I re-enter the house, incredibly nervous with my newfound knowledge of cameras. I sprint to the door I entered from, slipping out the back. I see no police cars. Still, I book it to my car, only exhaling again once I’m safely inside. I sit there for a few moments, allowing my breath to catch up. “God fucking damnit. What am I dealing with?” ------ “Okay okay, //now// you can ask questions,” I say. As soon as I explained that things were strange, Pixel, Lexi, Flower, Shrimp, and Ren all agreed to call. “So you hid in the closet the whole time? And they didn’t find you? Fucking damn! Stupid pigs!” Pixel exclaims. “And they appeared to have been aware that it was you. How did they assume this?” Ren asks. “That’s the thing, I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “It fucking freaks me out.” “This makes me think something else is going on.” Flower points out. “Like, I don’t know. But the fact that they knew it was you is weird.” “I’m just really glad you’re safe,” Lexi says in her usual soft tone. “Please double-check to make sure you didn't get hurt more than you thought.” “I checked. Just a bruise or so. I’m fine.” I ensured. Physically, mostly. I sighed. “I’m just left with so many questions.” “I think we all are.” Shrimp agrees. The group of them all made sounds of agreement. “Well, I think if you go back, you destroy the cameras.” Pixel suggests. “Are you crazy? He almost got caught as is!” Lexi exclaims. “TV, I really think you should just take this as a sign to not go back. You could’ve gotten hurt, or in trouble.” “But he can’t just stop looking! Something is fishy about this!” Pixel argues back. “How about we let Xander decide,” Flower says. By the way her voice got lower, I could tell Keisuke said that. “Yeah…” I reply. I was going to say something else, but there was a knock at my door. “Ah shit. Let me go see what that is.” I slip off the bed, then walk to up the front door, looking through the peephole, audibly gasping. “It’s the cops!” I exclaim in a whisper. “Oh my god! I wonder if they have news!” Shrimp exclaims. “Or if they followed you home!” Lexi worries. “Everyone, mute. I’ll let you listen.” I instruct. After I saw the mute icon next to each of their names, I slip my phone into my jacket pocket. I open the door. “Afternoon, officer,” I say, trying not to let my nerves affect me. “Hello, Mr. Wells. We wanted to ask you a couple of questions regarding Jonathan Everett.” The police officer informs. “Sure, anything. Do you uh… have any updates regarding the case? Um… what may have happened to him?” I step aside, allowing the two officers to enter. I close the door behind them. “I am Officer Evans, this is Officer Lee.” One of the officers informs as we settle at the kitchen table. I nodded. “Nice to meet you. What was it that you wanted to ask me?” I ask. It could be a lot of things. “It has come to our attention that a spare key exists for Mr. Everett’s home. We would like to know if you are in possession of this spare. His house is an active crime scene, so entrance is prohibited.” Evans explains. I feel something shake within me. Did they know? I nodded slowly. “Yes. I have a key. Um, I can go get that.” I say shakily. //Crap. That is my last hope.// “That would be great.” Lee replies. I walked to my bedroom. I pulled out my phone. #VC-CHAT [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-start= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=two \|username=🦐🦐🦐🦐 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 12:20 pm ]] CRAPPPPPP [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=seven \|username=#1 shin simp🧣 \|msg-time=06/01/2022 12:20 pm ]] OH MY HOOODID GODISS NOIOO UR KEY [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=eight \|username=QUEEN OF CRINGE \|msg-time=06/01/2022 12:20 pm ]] Do they know? 😥 [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-start= --] \|user-id=three \|username= Flowerpx🌸[🌸🌸] \|msg-time=06/01/2022 12:20 pm ]] Everyone calm! It’s okay! [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-msg-end= --] ]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:discord-chat-source">:scp-wiki:component:discord-chat-source</a> \|inc-end= --] ]] I take a shaky breath, grabbing the key from inside my nightstand. I take a picture, just in case I could get in replicated. I slipped my phone back into my pocket. My thoughts were rushing in so fast. //Did they know? Are they aware? What prompted them to ask now? Am I gonna get in trouble?// I shove my thoughts down as I walk back to the kitchen, sitting back at the table. “Here you are.” I slip the key over to Evans, feeling how badly I just wanted to not let go of that key as I remove my fingers from it. “Thank you. We will return it to you in the case that Mr. Everett is returned safely home.” //Returned safely home.// How badly I wish that would happen. I nod. “Is that all?” Lee nods. “We unfortunately have no updates other than that. We thank you for your cooperation.” I nod absently, moving through the motions as I escorted them out, watching as my last hope left my vicinity. “They’re gone. You can all unmute.” I say. Everyone begins to talk over each other. [[=image Call.png width="350px"]] “I can’t fucking believe those shitheads!” Pixel starts. “They took the key! What will you do?” Shrimp exclaims. “Everyone! Calm down!” Flower reminds. “What if they knew?” Lexi worries. “Then they would have told him.” Ren reasons. “It seems it was just a matter of security.” “But why within an hour of his arrival home?” Lexi replies. “Everyone!” Flower exclaims louder with more authority. “Calm down!” “It’s okay,” I say calmly. I can feel my brain began to wander, the dissociation kicking in. “I think I just need to be alone right now.” “We get it, TV. We’ll see you in a bit, okay?” Flower says kindly. “Yeah,” I reply. I let everyone say their goodbyes, then left the call. I wandered back to my room, laying on the bed. This feels like hell. My last connection, my last way to get answers. It was gone. I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and removed the contents. I stared at it for who knows how long. It takes me a little bit to notice that I started to cry. I hug the envelope contents against my chest, allowing myself to just be in the moment, my tears getting heavier. I feel something click within me. Anger. Despite my shaky hands, I carefully put the contents of the envelope back, setting it on my nightstand. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. I scream as loud as I can. I scream for as long as I can without taking another breath, angrily throwing pillows off of my bed onto the ground. When I finish, I can feel myself trembling. I feel sick. //This isn't fair. Why is this happening, anyway?// "Fucking-- I don't know what the hell is going on! Whoever the fuck is in charge of things, fuck you! Fuck you for doing this to us! //Fuck you//!" I scream vehemently. I lay down on my bed, feeling dehydrated and tired. It's clear that things will never get any easier. @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ [[div class="blockquote"]] = SURVEILLANCE REPORT* ---- DATE: 06/01/2022 TIME: 11:13 to 11:52; 00:39 Total SUBJECT(S) MONITORED: LOI-6822 (SCP-7262's Former Residence) ---- At approximately 11:13, POI-8923 (Xander R. Wells) entered the premises of LOI-6822 through the rear-facing gate.[[footnote]] A padlock requiring a key has since been added to deter future trespassing attempts[[/footnote]] POI-8923 then proceeded to enter the rear-facing entrance to LOI-6822 using a previously unknown key to LOI-6822. The only notable action POI-8923 took within LOI-6822 was obtaining an envelope from within SCP-7262's pillowcase.[[footnote]] //I would advise against questioning SCP-7262 about the contents of the envelope, at least for the moment.// -Dr. Kenneth Hart [[/footnote]] POI-8923 was able to avoid apprehension by Field Team India-12. In a follow-up operation, Agents Jeremy Evans and Destiny Lee were successfully able to retrieve POI-8923's key to LOI-6822. No further action necessary. ----- [[footnoteblock]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] > Filename: Call.png > Author: Drawn and edited by [[user Mew-ltiverse]], for the sources for the pfps see [[[SCP-7262]]]'s licensing box > License: CC-BY-SA wiki license > Source: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Call.png > Filename: Xander.png > Author: Drawn by me, [[user Mew-ltiverse]] > License: CC-BY-SA wiki license > Source: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/Xander.png > Filename: XG.png > Author: Drawn by me, [[user Mew-ltiverse]] > License: CC-BY-SA wiki license > Source: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/you-took-away-my/XG.png > Filename: Keisukea.png > Author: Unstated > License: CC0 > Source*: https://publicdomainq.net/samurai-swordfighter-0055268/ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[include <a href="/component:wikimodule">component:wikimodule</a> \|normal= --]]]	2023-11-04T20:39:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bleak", "first-person", "tale" ]	You Took Away my— - SCP Foundation	30	[ "dr-mews-personnel-file", "scp-7262", "flowers-growing-through-the-wood", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide", "scp-5095", "scp-5551", "scp-4482", "scp-7747", "scp-8319", "scp-7489", "scp-4939", "scp-4542", "scp-5955", "scp-8881", "scp-4648", "scp-7226", "scp-4846", "scp-4208", "that-day", "messaging-crustaceans", "open-anissist2-0", "her-final-thoughts", "scarlett-s-letters", "capture-hi-s-heart-m", "a-talk-with-a-stranger-in-the-forest", "you-have-a-doppelgaenger", "erics-journal", "dr-mews-personnel-file" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1451298679	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/you-took-away-my
your-memory-forever-seen	<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={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=4&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Abasalt/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p><strong>Title:</strong> Your Memory Forever Seen<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/deadly-bread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3988532); return false;"><img alt="Deadly Bread" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=3988532&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1730032545" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=3988532)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/deadly-bread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(3988532); return false;">Deadly Bread</a></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <div style="text-align: center;"> <div style="font-weight: bold;"> <p><span style="font-size:120%;"><strong>Other Articles of Mine</strong></span></p> <div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2">SCPs</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4966">SCP-4966</a></td> <td>Rating: 728</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-1401-ex">SCP-1401-EX</a></td> <td>Rating: 303</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4052">SCP-4052</a></td> <td>Rating: 258</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4088">SCP-4088</a></td> <td>Rating: 235</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5522">SCP-5522</a></td> <td>Rating: 215</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4109">SCP-4109</a></td> <td>Rating: 212</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7441">SCP-7441</a></td> <td>Rating: 137</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5020">SCP-5020</a></td> <td>Rating: 124</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4035">SCP-4035</a></td> <td>Rating: 121</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4286">SCP-4286</a></td> <td>Rating: 120</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4270">SCP-4270</a></td> <td>Rating: 115</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4664">SCP-4664</a></td> <td>Rating: 115</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-7966">SCP-7966</a></td> <td>Rating: 107</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-3462">SCP-3462</a></td> <td>Rating: 100</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6663">SCP-6663</a></td> <td>Rating: 95</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5693">SCP-5693</a></td> <td>Rating: 65</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-6633">SCP-6633</a></td> <td>Rating: 61</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-4570">SCP-4570</a></td> <td>Rating: 60</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-5261">SCP-5261</a></td> <td>Rating: 59</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-444-j">SCP-444-J</a></td> <td>Rating: 53</td> </tr> </table> <div class="pager"><span class="pager-no">page 1 of 2</span><span class="current">1</span><span class="target"><a href="/your-memory-forever-seen/p/2">2</a></span><span class="target"><a href="/your-memory-forever-seen/p/2">next »</a></span></div> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2">Tales</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/something-glowing">Something Glowing</a></td> <td>Rating: 184</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/log-of-extranormal-events-vol-ii">Log Of Extranormal Events, Vol II</a></td> <td>Rating: 37</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/prelude-to-presents">Prelude To Presents</a></td> <td>Rating: 25</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-bears">The Bears</a></td> <td>Rating: 16</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/your-memory-forever-seen">Your Memory Forever Seen</a></td> <td>Rating: 13</td> </tr> </table> </div><div class="list-pages-box"> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="2">Other</th> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/scp-005-hub">SCP-005 Proposal Hub</a></td> <td>Rating: 94</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/the-bread-box">The Bread Box</a></td> <td>Rating: 92</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/secure-facility-dossier-reliquary-area-27">Secure Facility Dossier: Reliquary Area-27</a></td> <td>Rating: 88</td> </tr> <tr> <td><a href="/experiment-log-4035">Experiment Log-4035</a></td> <td>Rating: 71</td> </tr> </table> </div> <p><strong>Collab Articles</strong></p> <table class="wiki-content-table"> <tr> <th colspan="3">SCPs</th> </tr> <tr> <th>Page</th> <th>Title</th> <th>Co-Author</th> </tr> <tr> <td><strong><a href="/scp-4733">SCP-4733</a></strong></td> <td><strong>But Not Forgotten</strong></td> <td><span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/lamentte" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(4894577); 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The machine barely got any use these days and most often sat beneath a growing stack of exhibit brochures, save for the odd bit of paperwork. For the last three nights, however, the neglected computer was alive with activity, chugging away while Jess stared out her window.</p> <p>She glanced out at the nearly faded tire tracks to distant headlights, almost entirely swallowed up by the approaching winter squall. Jess had been told the coroner would soon be there to follow up, but after the weather alert that had screamed its way through the town that promise seemed less and less likely. It wasn't like she could just walk out of the museum in its current state. Hell, she wasn't even sure she could bring herself to toss a glimpse down the hall. The thought of coming across her coworker, or anything… left behind.</p> <p>She turned her attention back to the computer, desperate for any distraction. Reports for minor graffiti from earlier in the week, missing research texts on taxidermy from a few months back, unrecorded returns for research materials from over a year ago, anything far from the most pressing situation of the past few days.</p> <p><em>Click, click, click… clickclickclickclickclick</em></p> <p>It had been a long night for the curator. Long nights weren't necessarily uncommon, and there still would likely be more to come. A slight tremor worked its way through Jess's fingers as she continued to type away, filling out sheet after sheet of information for the local department. It was slow going, especially since she kept stealing glances at every headlight that wormed its way down the street on the off-chance that it pulled into the museum lot.</p> <p>She paused, leaning back in her chair and listening as the whistle of wind slowly overtook her computer in the unconscious battle for her attention. Her hand unconsciously fumbled with her coat pocket, reaching for something to take her mind off the night's events. Jess held the pack of cigarettes in hand and gave it a quick shake. Empty; probably for the better. There'd already been enough damage done to the exhibits. No need to add smoke exposure to the list. It wasn't like she'd be able to smoke outside anyways, judging by the continued creak of the windowsill against the cold and storm. She fiddled with the pack in her hands, trying to delay her inevitable return to the old alphabet shovel in an attempt to finish the mounting pile of paperwork.</p> <p>A distant knock through the otherwise silent building cut through Jess's thoughts like a hot knife through considerably less hot butter. She moved to step out into the hallway before the phantom smell of iron hit her nostrils. However thorough she'd been, Jess wasn't sure if the smell would ever escape her mind.</p> <p>"I'm in my office, the one behind all the fish. The, uh… everything else… is down here too." She just had to hope it was the coroner, otherwise she'd have even more paperwork over someone tampering with a crime scene. The sound of footsteps against linoleum slowly approached as she hit print on her report. It'd just have to stay incomplete until she could better wrap her head around everything. At least it was something for the books.</p> <p>With a quick rap on the door, a man wrapped head to toe poked his head through the entrance.</p> <p>"Ms. Horne? My name's Daniel, I'm here with the, uh, coroner's office." He said through the cocoon of layers. Guess the storm really was that bad.</p> <p>"Jess is fine. I don't think I'm really capable of pleasantries right now." She gestured towards the printer, now emitting the same aged hum as her terminal. "You can take the printout if you want, but I don't know how much help it'll be."</p> <p>Daniel let out a muffled sigh, snatching the paper and giving it a quick once-over. Even through all the clothing, she could tell it wasn't going to be enough for him. He sat down in a seat opposite her own, pulling down the snow mask just enough so it didn't sound like he was talking from three doors down. He then pulled out a pen and made a few notes near the bottom of the printout before setting it aside.</p> <p>"I know it's been rough, and I don't want to keep you longer than I have to. I've just got some questions for you, then I'll try to get out of your hair."</p> <p>Jess shifted in her chair before eyeing the pack once more. "Let's just get it over with."</p> <p>The man reached into his jacket, producing an innocuous manila folder and passing it to Jess. "I just need you to confirm some things for me, if possible. I assume you were familiar enough."</p> <p>Jess cracked open the folder.</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <p><strong>Name</strong> — Terrance Tich</p> <p><strong>Born</strong> — April 23rd, 1992</p> <p><strong>Occupation</strong> — Research Assistant, Mortician</p> <p><strong>Previous Convictions</strong> — Fraudulent activity, practicing without a license.</p> <p><strong>Notable Characteristics</strong> — Blonde hair, brown eyes, requires glasses, missing left arm below the elbow (last updated June 17th, 2011).</p> <p><strong>Background</strong> — Individual has experience working with medical equipment as a mortician, and was previously convicted of practicing in the field of medicine without a license after they gained control of a funeral home belonging to their father. Due to the <span style="color: #111111">circumstances regarding their acquisition of the</span> <span style="color: #242424">business, the normal sentencing of one year</span> <span style="color: #3c3c3c">in prison was reduced to four months,</span> <span style="color: #555555">under the condition that Terrance only</span> <span style="color: #676767">continued operation once an individual with</span> <span style="color: #828282">the proper qualifications could be hired, or</span> <span style="color: #989898">Terrance themselves gain the</span> <span style="color: #b7b7b7">proper qualificat</span><span style="color: #d4d4d4">ions.</span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Nothing seemed to be out of place. Far from it actually, it looked like they had even more information on Terry than she did. Jess furrowed her brow and tossed a look towards the man. If he recognized the glance, he didn't show it.</p> <p>"If that's all correct, I'd just like to pick your brains about everything. I know, I know, it's just standard procedure. Anything we can get that could help us figure out what happened would mean a great deal to us."</p> <p>"I don't know what else you want that you don't know already."</p> <p>"How did Terrance start at the museum?"</p> <p>"I mean, I think we all felt bad for them at the time. Terry had been helping their dad in the funeral home for as long as I've known them, but after Dr. Tich's passing and the whole license debacle, I don't think there was anyone who wouldn't want to give them a chance. I mean, what choice did the kid have at the time? It was either try to keep the business running themselves with only second-hand experience or just let everything sink."</p> <p>Jess gave a halfhearted smile. "We all sort of pitched in, you know? Tried to help Terry however we could in the meantime. I just thought the least I could do was offer some way to help keep the place afloat while they scraped together enough for the education funds. Research assistant was just the best position."</p> <p>"How so?"</p> <p>"Well," Jess gestured towards the hall, where small shafts of blue light refracted from the distant marine life displays and onto the yellowing wallpaper, "having someone who at least grew up around embalming procedures sort of opened up a lot of possibilities. Most of our oceanic experience is their work." She let out a soft sigh. "Honestly it was the first time I'd seen them smile since everything that happened. The kid lived a tough life, but whenever they were working with the exhibits I almost couldn't pull Terry away, they'd just get so invested. I guess it just reminded them of the mortuary job, but I couldn't really say for sure."</p> <p>The coroner jotted down a few more notes on the printout. He pointed to the next paper in the stack. "I'm guessing that's how this happened then?"</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <table style="border-collapse:collapse; max-width: 1000px;"> <tr> <td style="font-weight:bold;padding: .3em .7em; text-align: center; border: 1px solid black; background-color: silver; width: 10%;">PATIENT INCIDENT REPORT FORM</td> </tr> </table> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Full Name:</strong></span> Terrance Tich <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Date of Incident:</strong></span> July 14th, 2011 <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Time:</strong></span> 10:40 P.M.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Location:</strong></span> Halsbrook Museum of Natural History, 180 Wren Ave, Halsbrook, NH</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Describe the Incident:</strong></span> Patient arrived with a severe laceration on the left hand, partially<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>detaching the index finger, and suffering mild blood loss on arrival. An accompanying witness<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>(Jessica Horne) claimed to have discovered the patient after she heard a loud yell from their<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>office, where she discovered said patient in their current state before rushing them to urgent<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>care. Patient claims to have not noticed the injury when it occurred, having been too<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>preoccupied with their work, and only noticed once blood began pooling on their workstation.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>Patient was rushed to surgery where the wound was cleaned and operated on, with the hope of<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>saving the severed digit. Unfortunately, due to miscommunication between the patient and<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>hospital staff regarding the environment in which the injury occurred, lower grade<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>disinfectant was used and the injury became severely infected during recovery. Staff were soon<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>able to identify the bacteria causing the infection (likely caused by the handing of animal<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>carcasses) and stop the infection, but not before the afflicted arm had grown gangrenous and<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>required partial amputation. Patient is expected to recover within four to eight weeks.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>The small smile Jess had grown talking about Terry immediately fell from her face. It felt like she'd just been hit with a sack of wet bricks.</p> <p>"It-" she managed to get out, voice faltering slightly. She stopped, letting out a sigh before composing herself, at least a little bit.</p> <p>"It wasn't Terry's fault. We wanted to update some areas before the end of year field trip rush, and the exploration of an ecosystem exhibit had just got some new specimens to preserve. Most of the high-quality pieces we put up front, so a lot of the more 'interior bits' as Terry would call them, we put those in the anatomy wing. Most of the time all they needed were some preservation fluids, but Terry still would take it upon themselves to make them look better than when they came in."</p> <p>She pressed a hand to her temple. "Gods, next thing I knew, all I could see was Terry on the ground screaming, drenched in blood from head to toe. I thought they'd sliced an artery at the time — for all I know, they might have. I just remember screaming down the street to urgent care because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I just sat by and let them bleed out."</p> <p>"You could just tell it crushed Terry afterwards. Even through everything they had at least been able to find something in making exhibits. They were able to get a prosthetic fitted a while after the recovery period but I almost never saw them wearing it. Whenever I asked Terry would just ignore the question or say they didn't need it. They'd even go as far as having me unlock our on-hand archives for them so they could learn how to embalm again from scratch."</p> <p>Jess leaned back in her chair, purposefully angling herself so she could see the moon through the window, almost entirely obscured by snowfall. "I know it was an accident but I still kind of blame myself, you know? Maybe if I'd been there watching Terry they'd have been more careful. I know, I know, it's not my fault, but it still kind of weighs on me."</p> <p>As the scratching of Daniel's pen ceased, Jess turned to see a new document sitting in front of her.</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <table style="border-collapse:collapse; max-width: 1000px;"> <tr> <td style="font-weight:bold; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center; border: 1px solid black; background-color: silver; width: 10%;">HALSBROOK TIMES</td> </tr> </table> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size:175%;"><strong>TRAGEDY AT MUSEUM</strong></span></p> <hr/> <p>Misfortune struck last night at the local Halsbrook Museum of Natural History after Terrance Tich, town resident and research assistant, took their own life after a workplace incident. The twenty-two year old was noted by friends to have been spending extended nights at the museum recently, although nothing unusual had been observed until now.</p> <p>It was only after Tich's employer decided to check on them did she discover the assistant in a state of severe injury, having harmed themselves in an apparent act of vandalism. Presumably fearing for her safety, the employer dialed emergency services before attempting to talk down Terrance.</p> </div> <p>Her whole body trembled as she slid the folder across the desk, feeling sick to her very core.</p> <p>"I knew we shouldn't have brought in that fucking exhibit." She mumbled under her breath, holding her head in her hands.</p> <p>"Which one would that have been?"</p> <p>Jess only pointed to the pamphlets stacked high atop her terminal. All of them prominently displayed a leathery mummified human arm wrapped in a decayed fabric.</p> <p>"It was supposed to be something to finally make us notable, you know? We had the first preserved bog body in the Northern United States. I honestly couldn't believe it at first."</p> <p>"And I thought I was excited about it but… Gods, it was the first time I'd seen Terry excited about anything since their accident. I should have known. I really should have known. We weren't even going to have it for long, it was supposed to be picked up yesterday by another museum."</p> <p>"You can't blame yourself." Daniel said, briefly looking up from the pamphlet, having taken note of its contents.</p> <p>"I just… I wish I'd have figured it out sooner." Jess took one of the pamphlets herself. "Every night for the past few days they've just stayed behind to do work on it. I just never questioned it because it was the first time I'd seen them happy in months."</p> <p>Daniel put down the tiny brochure and sighed. "What exactly happened that night?"</p> <p>The two sat in a hanging silence, the chill in the air doing nothing to help Jess's already shattered nerves.</p> <p>"I was clocking out for the night. Since I'm the only one with a key I have to be the last one out, so I… had to make sure Terry came out with me. I just… you know when something feels off, just slightly? I remember going to check on Terry and just… the sound of them <em>working</em> just echoing down the hall. I-I-I thought it was just normal work, something for an exhibit."</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <p>The first responders who arrived on scene were horrified to witness Tich attempting to surgically attach pieces of an exhibit to their body. Requests for further details were declined by medical personnel, although one member of hospital staff claimed that the victim was "unnervingly calm, especially given the large amount of pain they would have been in at the time."</p> </div> <hr/> <p>"Then the, uh, the smell hit me. Terry's office never smelt 'good', but it was always the strong smell of chemical preservatives. Formaldehyde. This was rot and blood. Just… just filth…"</p> <p>"I just remember looking in and seeing Terry hunched over their workstation, <em>covered</em> in blood. Blood and just… chunks. I tried to yell or scream or do anything but then the smell hit me again. Fuck, ugh, I felt like I was going to throw up the moment I walked in but I couldn't even will myself to do it because it would mean looking away."</p> <p>Another shiver wormed its way through her core as she continued, not breaking eye contact with the folder's contents.</p> <p>"I almost didn't notice the arm at first — not for long though. It… Terry only had up to the elbow removed, but the one from the exhibit was still attached at the shoulder. It just-it hung all the way to the floor, covered in blood and slick with some black liquid. Like it was melting up their body. There was something just so viscerally unnerving about it… even outside of it being a dead desiccated limb. It… Gods, I swear it was even moving."</p> <p>"I don't remember how long I stood there, just listening to them cut away at their arm, a-and the rip of the string pulling taut. Something about it was just wrong. None of it was right, I know that, but… I don't know. They just kept hacking away at their arm while the, the <em>thing</em> kept writhing like a dying snake, like it still had life left in it. It took a while for Terry to even notice I was there."</p> <p>"Did they say anything to you?"</p> <p>"I-I don't know if they even could."</p> <p>"How so?"</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <p>After attempts at intervention by medical personnel, Tich was seen fleeing out the rear of the museum and into the nearby wetlands. Despite severe wounds, Terrance was able to evade both notified patrol officers and pursuing hospital staff alike until reaching a construction dig site far North of the museum.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>"There was just… nothing there. It was like Terry wasn't even in the room with me." Jess waved her hands in front of her eyes. "I don't know how else to describe it. I-it's like the lights were on but… Terry just wasn't home."</p> <p>Silence once again, the din of the wind outside utterly drowned out by Jess's unspoken anxiety.</p> <p>"I ran. I ran, I ran to my office and I hid. I called the hospital and locked myself as far away as I could."</p> <p>"I thought you tried to talk them down?"</p> <p>Jess shook her head, intentionally for once. "I hid. I couldn't do it. It fucking hurt to let them keep going, but every time I tried to leave the sounds of tearing a-and ripping and smell of blood would just creep further down the hall. Whatever was happening, it wasn't Terry."</p> <p>"Even if Terry wasn't home, it felt like something else was."</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <p>Upon arrival, Tich was witnessed fleeing across the excavated marsh before diving into a large pool of brackish water. Fearing their safety, emergency services tried to rescue Tich, only to require rescue themselves after the large amount of silt and muck made pursuing them nearly impossible.</p> <p>Responders continued to search the area throughout the night for any signs of resurfacing, although none were found. Due to Tich's grievous wounds, medical personnel have said it is unlikely they would have been able to leave the mire on their own.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>"Was there anything leading up to the incident that stands out to you? Anything at all?"</p> <hr/> <div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"> <p>Despite joint efforts between construction crews and local mortuary services, Tich's body has yet to be recovered.</p> </div> <hr/> <p>Jess closed the folder, desperate for a reprieve from the memory plaguing her. The sound of Terry's skin being torn apart and stitched back together burrowed its way back into her brain. She tried her best to repress it, just for a while longer.</p> <p>She knew Terry as a person of perfection, not one of foresight. Even so, the thought of them spending so much time with the remains beforehand just didn't sit right with her. They were no surgeon — they were an embalmer by trade and had barely even been practicing for a few years on animals.</p> <p>"I still just don't know. How could Terry even…" The words hung in the air, interrupted as the cogs in Jess's brain began to click into place.</p> <p>"Oh Gods, the taxidermy books." Her words just barely dribbled out of her mouth as she connected the dots. She'd given Terry access to the museum's small archive when they'd needed access to research materials after they lost their arm. She was the one who let Terry hold onto them well past their return period. Her resolve to not let her emotions slip cracked ever more as tremors continued to worm their way through her hands. She could no longer hold it — she'd was the one who'd given Terry what they needed, knowingly or not — and placed her head in her hands.</p> <p>Daniel let out another sigh. Reaching around in his massive jacket, he fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, passing them to Jess. "Here." Her resolve already broken, she only hesitated for a moment before pulling a cigarette out of the pack. She inhaled deeply before the tension in her shoulders finally released. Slightly. It took a few more seconds of silence for her to regain her bearings and crack open the window ever so slightly, storm be damned.</p> <p>"You know I never left their side in the hospital?" She exhaled once again, icy wind quickly picking up and smothering the smoke trail into nothing. "I always waited for somebody else to show up and visit but they never did. I'm all Terry had. Fuck, I still try. I can't go to their house; the whole place has been cleaned out top to bottom. Them sending you out is the closest thing to even telling me they died — unless you count the endless calls by newspapers for my statement."</p> <p>Daniel began to speak but went silent at the mention of Terry's death.</p> <p>"I just wish I'd figured it out sooner."</p> <p>Daniel slid the folder back into his inner coat pocket. "You couldn't have known ma'am." The coroner had since re-outfitted himself, once again wrapping himself head to toe in clothing. "You can keep the cigarettes. It's the least I can do for you." With that, he bid farewell, making his exit into the night.</p> <p>Jess leaned back into her chair, contemplating the events of the night. Her terminal, alive with activity just a short time ago, sat cold and lifeless like the air outside her window. She watched the road, expecting to see the eventual headlights of the coroner drift off into the distance, but they never arrived.</p> <p>She sat there, eyeing the road as <span style="color: #c9c9c9">the edges of her vision began</span> <span style="color: #b1b1b1">to grow fuzzy. Jess</span> <span style="color: #c9c9c9">rubbed her eyes and</span> blinked — guess the nights had begun to take a toll on her. She turned her head from the road to her desk, landing on the pack of cigarettes provided by the coroner. She picked it up once more and examined the box.</p> <p>It certainly was unremarkable, as she observed earlier, but even more so it seemed remarkable in its sheer unremarkability. The box was completely blank, a perfectly boring cardboard box. She leaned over her desk, glancing at where the coroner once sat. Searching eyes settled on a small scrap of paper, plain as the pack he'd left behind. A business card wedged just out of sight and slid beneath the seat cushion.</p> <p>She grabbed it with shaking hands and quickly scanned it. Nothing really seemed to jump out at her — the glossy print all melted and muddled together into inky blots in her swimming vision — apart from one line that managed to slice through the mist.</p> <p><em>Daniel, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-old-masters">R.A.R.E.</a></em></p> <p>Jess placed the paper and the carton back on her desk, glancing back at the window to confirm once again the lack of headlights. This didn't make sense; something wasn't adding up. She glanced down at the tip of the cigarette peeking into her vision, still placed firmly in her mouth, before swiftly putting it out.</p> <p>She continued looking between her desk and the road, beginning to <span style="color: #c9c9c9">feel more and</span> <span style="color: #b1b1b1">more uneasy. It began</span> <span style="color: #c9c9c9">to feel harder</span> and harder for her to focus, looking between the two objects began to become a chore. She needed to get out of there, something <span style="color: #c9c9c9">wasn't right, she needed</span> fresh air. Stumbling, she hurriedly dressed herself before slipping into the cold night air. She continued to <span style="color: #c9c9c9">falter, thoughts trailing like glue as she fumbled</span> <span style="color: #b1b1b1">with her car keys. She</span> <span style="color: #c9c9c9">locked the museum, right? She must have, she</span> must have.</p> <p>As her <span style="color: #c9c9c9">eyes began to</span> <span style="color: #b1b1b1">grow hazy, a buzz in her pocket</span> <span style="color: #919191">was the only sensation she</span> <span style="color: #b1b1b1">could make</span> <span style="color: #c9c9c9">out clearly. Her head feeling</span> full of a thick soup, Jess pulled out her phone and just barely managed to select a voicemail left for her just an hour ago.</p> <p>She fell back into her car seat as a familiar and soon to be forgotten sight made its way down the drive — a solitary pair of headlights — fading into the storm just as all memory of the night faded to the tune of a distant voicemail.</p> <p>"Hello Ms. Horne, <span style="color: #c9c9c9">this is the Carroll Country Sheriff's Office.</span> <span style="color: #b1b1b1">We're just calling to let you know</span> <span style="color: #919191">that, due to the inclement</span> <span style="color: #737373">weather approaching faster than expected, we'll have</span> <span style="color: #585858">to reschedule your meeting with the coroner until further</span> <span style="color: #3f3f3f">notice. If you could just give</span> <span style="color: #2e2e2e">us a call when you can so</span> <span style="color: #212121">we can schedule a new date so we can just</span> <span style="color: #1b1b1b">finalize our reports, we'll get back</span> <span style="color: #141414">to you as soon as possible with the new date…"</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="/your-memory-forever-seen">Your Memory Forever Seen</a>" by Deadly Bread, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/your-memory-forever-seen">https://scpwiki.com/your-memory-forever-seen</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> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/header2.png">header2.png</a><br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Alnwick marketplace - snow - night.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/andyarmstrong/">Andy Armstrong</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alnwick_marketplace_-_snow_-_night.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/billgates.png">billgates.png</a><br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Bill Gates mugshot.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Albuquerque, New Mexico police department<br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bill_Gates_mugshot.png">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/museum.png">museum.png</a><br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Fernbank-25.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Eoghanacht">Eoghanacht</a><br/> <strong>License:</strong> Public Domain<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fernbank-25.jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:basalt">:scp-wiki:theme:basalt</a> darkmode=a]] [[module CSS]] #page-title { visibility:hidden; } .page { display: block; overflow: hidden; font-family: "Monotype Corsiva", "Bradley Hand ITC", sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-style: normal; background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-color: #130A01; 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; } div.blockquote.gru { background-color: #202220; } [[/module]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=your-memory-forever-seen \|authorPage=http://www.scp-wiki.net/the-bread-box \|comments=Title: Your Memory Forever Seen Author: [[user Deadly Bread]]@@ @@ ---- [[include :scp-wiki:more-by:deadly-bread]] [[/div]] [[=]] + Your Memory Forever Seen* @@ @@ [[/=]] ---- [[=]] [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/header2.png width="1200"]] [[/=]] ----- Jess sat in her small, dimly-lit office, distant from the world and the whirring hum of her desk terminal. The machine barely got any use these days and most often sat beneath a growing stack of exhibit brochures, save for the odd bit of paperwork. For the last three nights, however, the neglected computer was alive with activity, chugging away while Jess stared out her window. She glanced out at the nearly faded tire tracks to distant headlights, almost entirely swallowed up by the approaching winter squall. Jess had been told the coroner would soon be there to follow up, but after the weather alert that had screamed its way through the town that promise seemed less and less likely. It wasn't like she could just walk out of the museum in its current state. Hell, she wasn't even sure she could bring herself to toss a glimpse down the hall. The thought of coming across her coworker, or anything... left behind. She turned her attention back to the computer, desperate for any distraction. Reports for minor graffiti from earlier in the week, missing research texts on taxidermy from a few months back, unrecorded returns for research materials from over a year ago, anything far from the most pressing situation of the past few days. //Click, click, click... clickclickclickclickclick// It had been a long night for the curator. Long nights weren't necessarily uncommon, and there still would likely be more to come. A slight tremor worked its way through Jess's fingers as she continued to type away, filling out sheet after sheet of information for the local department. It was slow going, especially since she kept stealing glances at every headlight that wormed its way down the street on the off-chance that it pulled into the museum lot. She paused, leaning back in her chair and listening as the whistle of wind slowly overtook her computer in the unconscious battle for her attention. Her hand unconsciously fumbled with her coat pocket, reaching for something to take her mind off the night's events. Jess held the pack of cigarettes in hand and gave it a quick shake. Empty; probably for the better. There'd already been enough damage done to the exhibits. No need to add smoke exposure to the list. It wasn't like she'd be able to smoke outside anyways, judging by the continued creak of the windowsill against the cold and storm. She fiddled with the pack in her hands, trying to delay her inevitable return to the old alphabet shovel in an attempt to finish the mounting pile of paperwork. A distant knock through the otherwise silent building cut through Jess's thoughts like a hot knife through considerably less hot butter. She moved to step out into the hallway before the phantom smell of iron hit her nostrils. However thorough she'd been, Jess wasn't sure if the smell would ever escape her mind. "I'm in my office, the one behind all the fish. The, uh... everything else... is down here too." She just had to hope it was the coroner, otherwise she'd have even more paperwork over someone tampering with a crime scene. The sound of footsteps against linoleum slowly approached as she hit print on her report. It'd just have to stay incomplete until she could better wrap her head around everything. At least it was something for the books. With a quick rap on the door, a man wrapped head to toe poked his head through the entrance. "Ms. Horne? My name's Daniel, I'm here with the, uh, coroner's office." He said through the cocoon of layers. Guess the storm really was that bad. "Jess is fine. I don't think I'm really capable of pleasantries right now." She gestured towards the printer, now emitting the same aged hum as her terminal. "You can take the printout if you want, but I don't know how much help it'll be." Daniel let out a muffled sigh, snatching the paper and giving it a quick once-over. Even through all the clothing, she could tell it wasn't going to be enough for him. He sat down in a seat opposite her own, pulling down the snow mask just enough so it didn't sound like he was talking from three doors down. He then pulled out a pen and made a few notes near the bottom of the printout before setting it aside. "I know it's been rough, and I don't want to keep you longer than I have to. I've just got some questions for you, then I'll try to get out of your hair." Jess shifted in her chair before eyeing the pack once more. "Let's just get it over with." The man reached into his jacket, producing an innocuous manila folder and passing it to Jess. "I just need you to confirm some things for me, if possible. I assume you were familiar enough." Jess cracked open the folder. ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] [[f>image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/billgates.png style="margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px"]] Name — Terrance Tich Born — April 23rd, 1992 Occupation — Research Assistant, Mortician Previous Convictions — Fraudulent activity, practicing without a license. Notable Characteristics — Blonde hair, brown eyes, requires glasses, missing left arm below the elbow (last updated June 17th, 2011). Background — Individual has experience working with medical equipment as a mortician, and was previously convicted of practicing in the field of medicine without a license after they gained control of a funeral home belonging to their father. Due to the ##111111\|circumstances regarding their acquisition of the## ##242424\|business, the normal sentencing of one year## ##3c3c3c\|in prison was reduced to four months,## ##555555\|under the condition that Terrance only## ##676767\|continued operation once an individual with## ##828282\|the proper qualifications could be hired, or## ##989898\|Terrance themselves gain the## ##b7b7b7\|proper qualificat####D4D4D4\|ions.## [[/div]] ---- Nothing seemed to be out of place. Far from it actually, it looked like they had even more information on Terry than she did. Jess furrowed her brow and tossed a look towards the man. If he recognized the glance, he didn't show it. "If that's all correct, I'd just like to pick your brains about everything. I know, I know, it's just standard procedure. Anything we can get that could help us figure out what happened would mean a great deal to us." "I don't know what else you want that you don't know already." "How did Terrance start at the museum?" "I mean, I think we all felt bad for them at the time. Terry had been helping their dad in the funeral home for as long as I've known them, but after Dr. Tich's passing and the whole license debacle, I don't think there was anyone who wouldn't want to give them a chance. I mean, what choice did the kid have at the time? It was either try to keep the business running themselves with only second-hand experience or just let everything sink." Jess gave a halfhearted smile. "We all sort of pitched in, you know? Tried to help Terry however we could in the meantime. I just thought the least I could do was offer some way to help keep the place afloat while they scraped together enough for the education funds. Research assistant was just the best position." "How so?" "Well," Jess gestured towards the hall, where small shafts of blue light refracted from the distant marine life displays and onto the yellowing wallpaper, "having someone who at least grew up around embalming procedures sort of opened up a lot of possibilities. Most of our oceanic experience is their work." She let out a soft sigh. "Honestly it was the first time I'd seen them smile since everything that happened. The kid lived a tough life, but whenever they were working with the exhibits I almost couldn't pull Terry away, they'd just get so invested. I guess it just reminded them of the mortuary job, but I couldn't really say for sure." The coroner jotted down a few more notes on the printout. He pointed to the next paper in the stack. "I'm guessing that's how this happened then?" ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] [[table style="border-collapse:collapse; max-width: 1000px;"]] [[row]] [[cell style="font-weight:bold;padding: .3em .7em; text-align: center; border: 1px solid black; background-color: silver; width: 10%;"]] PATIENT INCIDENT REPORT FORM [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] @@ @@ @@ @@__Full Name:__ Terrance Tich @@ @@ __Date of Incident:__ July 14th, 2011 @@ @@ __Time:__ 10:40 P.M. @@ @@__Location:__ Halsbrook Museum of Natural History, 180 Wren Ave, Halsbrook, NH @@ @@__Describe the Incident:__ Patient arrived with a severe laceration on the left hand, partially @@ @@detaching the index finger, and suffering mild blood loss on arrival. An accompanying witness @@ @@(Jessica Horne) claimed to have discovered the patient after she heard a loud yell from their @@ @@office, where she discovered said patient in their current state before rushing them to urgent @@ @@care. Patient claims to have not noticed the injury when it occurred, having been too @@ @@preoccupied with their work, and only noticed once blood began pooling on their workstation. @@ @@Patient was rushed to surgery where the wound was cleaned and operated on, with the hope of @@ @@saving the severed digit. Unfortunately, due to miscommunication between the patient and @@ @@hospital staff regarding the environment in which the injury occurred, lower grade @@ @@disinfectant was used and the injury became severely infected during recovery. Staff were soon @@ @@able to identify the bacteria causing the infection (likely caused by the handing of animal @@ @@carcasses) and stop the infection, but not before the afflicted arm had grown gangrenous and @@ @@required partial amputation. Patient is expected to recover within four to eight weeks. [[/div]] ---- The small smile Jess had grown talking about Terry immediately fell from her face. It felt like she'd just been hit with a sack of wet bricks. "It-" she managed to get out, voice faltering slightly. She stopped, letting out a sigh before composing herself, at least a little bit. "It wasn't Terry's fault. We wanted to update some areas before the end of year field trip rush, and the exploration of an ecosystem exhibit had just got some new specimens to preserve. Most of the high-quality pieces we put up front, so a lot of the more 'interior bits' as Terry would call them, we put those in the anatomy wing. Most of the time all they needed were some preservation fluids, but Terry still would take it upon themselves to make them look better than when they came in." She pressed a hand to her temple. "Gods, next thing I knew, all I could see was Terry on the ground screaming, drenched in blood from head to toe. I thought they'd sliced an artery at the time — for all I know, they might have. I just remember screaming down the street to urgent care because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I just sat by and let them bleed out." "You could just tell it crushed Terry afterwards. Even through everything they had at least been able to find something in making exhibits. They were able to get a prosthetic fitted a while after the recovery period but I almost never saw them wearing it. Whenever I asked Terry would just ignore the question or say they didn't need it. They'd even go as far as having me unlock our on-hand archives for them so they could learn how to embalm again from scratch." Jess leaned back in her chair, purposefully angling herself so she could see the moon through the window, almost entirely obscured by snowfall. "I know it was an accident but I still kind of blame myself, you know? Maybe if I'd been there watching Terry they'd have been more careful. I know, I know, it's not my fault, but it still kind of weighs on me." As the scratching of Daniel's pen ceased, Jess turned to see a new document sitting in front of her. ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] [[table style="border-collapse:collapse; max-width: 1000px;"]] [[row]] [[cell style="font-weight:bold; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center; border: 1px solid black; background-color: silver; width: 10%;"]] HALSBROOK TIMES [[/cell]] [[/row]] [[/table]] [[f>image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/museum.png style="margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 1px"]] @@ @@ @@ @@[[size 175%]]TRAGEDY AT MUSEUM[[/size]] ---- Misfortune struck last night at the local Halsbrook Museum of Natural History after Terrance Tich, town resident and research assistant, took their own life after a workplace incident. The twenty-two year old was noted by friends to have been spending extended nights at the museum recently, although nothing unusual had been observed until now. It was only after Tich's employer decided to check on them did she discover the assistant in a state of severe injury, having harmed themselves in an apparent act of vandalism. Presumably fearing for her safety, the employer dialed emergency services before attempting to talk down Terrance. [[/div]] Her whole body trembled as she slid the folder across the desk, feeling sick to her very core. "I knew we shouldn't have brought in that fucking exhibit." She mumbled under her breath, holding her head in her hands. "Which one would that have been?" Jess only pointed to the pamphlets stacked high atop her terminal. All of them prominently displayed a leathery mummified human arm wrapped in a decayed fabric. "It was supposed to be something to finally make us notable, you know? We had the first preserved bog body in the Northern United States. I honestly couldn't believe it at first." "And I thought I was excited about it but... Gods, it was the first time I'd seen Terry excited about anything since their accident. I should have known. I really should have known. We weren't even going to have it for long, it was supposed to be picked up yesterday by another museum." "You can't blame yourself." Daniel said, briefly looking up from the pamphlet, having taken note of its contents. "I just... I wish I'd have figured it out sooner." Jess took one of the pamphlets herself. "Every night for the past few days they've just stayed behind to do work on it. I just never questioned it because it was the first time I'd seen them happy in months." Daniel put down the tiny brochure and sighed. "What exactly happened that night?" The two sat in a hanging silence, the chill in the air doing nothing to help Jess's already shattered nerves. "I was clocking out for the night. Since I'm the only one with a key I have to be the last one out, so I... had to make sure Terry came out with me. I just... you know when something feels off, just slightly? I remember going to check on Terry and just... the sound of them //working// just echoing down the hall. I-I-I thought it was just normal work, something for an exhibit." ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] The first responders who arrived on scene were horrified to witness Tich attempting to surgically attach pieces of an exhibit to their body. Requests for further details were declined by medical personnel, although one member of hospital staff claimed that the victim was "unnervingly calm, especially given the large amount of pain they would have been in at the time." [[/div]] ---- "Then the, uh, the smell hit me. Terry's office never smelt 'good', but it was always the strong smell of chemical preservatives. Formaldehyde. This was rot and blood. Just... just filth..." "I just remember looking in and seeing Terry hunched over their workstation, //covered// in blood. Blood and just... chunks. I tried to yell or scream or do anything but then the smell hit me again. Fuck, ugh, I felt like I was going to throw up the moment I walked in but I couldn't even will myself to do it because it would mean looking away." Another shiver wormed its way through her core as she continued, not breaking eye contact with the folder's contents. "I almost didn't notice the arm at first — not for long though. It... Terry only had up to the elbow removed, but the one from the exhibit was still attached at the shoulder. It just-it hung all the way to the floor, covered in blood and slick with some black liquid. Like it was melting up their body. There was something just so viscerally unnerving about it... even outside of it being a dead desiccated limb. It... Gods, I swear it was even moving." "I don't remember how long I stood there, just listening to them cut away at their arm, a-and the rip of the string pulling taut. Something about it was just wrong. None of it was right, I know that, but... I don't know. They just kept hacking away at their arm while the, the //thing// kept writhing like a dying snake, like it still had life left in it. It took a while for Terry to even notice I was there." "Did they say anything to you?" "I-I don't know if they even could." "How so?" ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] After attempts at intervention by medical personnel, Tich was seen fleeing out the rear of the museum and into the nearby wetlands. Despite severe wounds, Terrance was able to evade both notified patrol officers and pursuing hospital staff alike until reaching a construction dig site far North of the museum. [[/div]] ---- "There was just... nothing there. It was like Terry wasn't even in the room with me." Jess waved her hands in front of her eyes. "I don't know how else to describe it. I-it's like the lights were on but... Terry just wasn't home." Silence once again, the din of the wind outside utterly drowned out by Jess's unspoken anxiety. "I ran. I ran, I ran to my office and I hid. I called the hospital and locked myself as far away as I could." "I thought you tried to talk them down?" Jess shook her head, intentionally for once. "I hid. I couldn't do it. It fucking hurt to let them keep going, but every time I tried to leave the sounds of tearing a-and ripping and smell of blood would just creep further down the hall. Whatever was happening, it wasn't Terry." "Even if Terry wasn't home, it felt like something else was." ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] Upon arrival, Tich was witnessed fleeing across the excavated marsh before diving into a large pool of brackish water. Fearing their safety, emergency services tried to rescue Tich, only to require rescue themselves after the large amount of silt and muck made pursuing them nearly impossible. Responders continued to search the area throughout the night for any signs of resurfacing, although none were found. Due to Tich's grievous wounds, medical personnel have said it is unlikely they would have been able to leave the mire on their own. [[/div]] ---- "Was there anything leading up to the incident that stands out to you? Anything at all?" ---- [[div style="color: black; font-family: Courier; background:#D4D4D4; float: center; border: solid 1px #000000; padding: 5px 15px 15px 15px; box-shadow: 0 1px 3px rgba(20,20,20,.2); width: 84%; margin: 2% 4% 4% 4%"]] Despite joint efforts between construction crews and local mortuary services, Tich's body has yet to be recovered. [[/div]] ---- Jess closed the folder, desperate for a reprieve from the memory plaguing her. The sound of Terry's skin being torn apart and stitched back together burrowed its way back into her brain. She tried her best to repress it, just for a while longer. She knew Terry as a person of perfection, not one of foresight. Even so, the thought of them spending so much time with the remains beforehand just didn't sit right with her. They were no surgeon — they were an embalmer by trade and had barely even been practicing for a few years on animals. "I still just don't know. How could Terry even..." The words hung in the air, interrupted as the cogs in Jess's brain began to click into place. "Oh Gods, the taxidermy books." Her words just barely dribbled out of her mouth as she connected the dots. She'd given Terry access to the museum's small archive when they'd needed access to research materials after they lost their arm. She was the one who let Terry hold onto them well past their return period. Her resolve to not let her emotions slip cracked ever more as tremors continued to worm their way through her hands. She could no longer hold it — she'd was the one who'd given Terry what they needed, knowingly or not — and placed her head in her hands. Daniel let out another sigh. Reaching around in his massive jacket, he fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, passing them to Jess. "Here." Her resolve already broken, she only hesitated for a moment before pulling a cigarette out of the pack. She inhaled deeply before the tension in her shoulders finally released. Slightly. It took a few more seconds of silence for her to regain her bearings and crack open the window ever so slightly, storm be damned. "You know I never left their side in the hospital?" She exhaled once again, icy wind quickly picking up and smothering the smoke trail into nothing. "I always waited for somebody else to show up and visit but they never did. I'm all Terry had. Fuck, I still try. I can't go to their house; the whole place has been cleaned out top to bottom. Them sending you out is the closest thing to even telling me they died — unless you count the endless calls by newspapers for my statement." Daniel began to speak but went silent at the mention of Terry's death. "I just wish I'd figured it out sooner." Daniel slid the folder back into his inner coat pocket. "You couldn't have known ma'am." The coroner had since re-outfitted himself, once again wrapping himself head to toe in clothing. "You can keep the cigarettes. It's the least I can do for you." With that, he bid farewell, making his exit into the night. Jess leaned back into her chair, contemplating the events of the night. Her terminal, alive with activity just a short time ago, sat cold and lifeless like the air outside her window. She watched the road, expecting to see the eventual headlights of the coroner drift off into the distance, but they never arrived. She sat there, eyeing the road as ##c9c9c9\|the edges of her vision began## ##b1b1b1\|to grow fuzzy. Jess## ##c9c9c9\|rubbed her eyes and## blinked — guess the nights had begun to take a toll on her. She turned her head from the road to her desk, landing on the pack of cigarettes provided by the coroner. She picked it up once more and examined the box. It certainly was unremarkable, as she observed earlier, but even more so it seemed remarkable in its sheer unremarkability. The box was completely blank, a perfectly boring cardboard box. She leaned over her desk, glancing at where the coroner once sat. Searching eyes settled on a small scrap of paper, plain as the pack he'd left behind. A business card wedged just out of sight and slid beneath the seat cushion. She grabbed it with shaking hands and quickly scanned it. Nothing really seemed to jump out at her — the glossy print all melted and muddled together into inky blots in her swimming vision — apart from one line that managed to slice through the mist. //Daniel, [[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-old-masters\|R.A.R.E.]]]// Jess placed the paper and the carton back on her desk, glancing back at the window to confirm once again the lack of headlights. This didn't make sense; something wasn't adding up. She glanced down at the tip of the cigarette peeking into her vision, still placed firmly in her mouth, before swiftly putting it out. She continued looking between her desk and the road, beginning to ##c9c9c9\|feel more and## ##b1b1b1\|more uneasy. It began## ##c9c9c9\|to feel harder## and harder for her to focus, looking between the two objects began to become a chore. She needed to get out of there, something ##c9c9c9\|wasn't right, she needed## fresh air. Stumbling, she hurriedly dressed herself before slipping into the cold night air. She continued to ##c9c9c9\|falter, thoughts trailing like glue as she fumbled## ##b1b1b1\|with her car keys. She## ##c9c9c9\|locked the museum, right? She must have, she## must have. As her ##c9c9c9\|eyes began to## ##b1b1b1\|grow hazy, a buzz in her pocket## ##919191\|was the only sensation she## ##b1b1b1\|could make## ##c9c9c9\|out clearly. Her head feeling## full of a thick soup, Jess pulled out her phone and just barely managed to select a voicemail left for her just an hour ago. She fell back into her car seat as a familiar and soon to be forgotten sight made its way down the drive — a solitary pair of headlights — fading into the storm just as all memory of the night faded to the tune of a distant voicemail. "Hello Ms. Horne, ##c9c9c9\|this is the Carroll Country Sheriff's Office.## ##b1b1b1\|We're just calling to let you know## ##919191\|that, due to the inclement## ##737373\|weather approaching faster than expected, we'll have## ##585858\|to reschedule your meeting with the coroner until further## ##3f3f3f\|notice. If you could just give## ##2e2e2e\| us a call when you can so## ##212121\|we can schedule a new date so we can just## ##1b1b1b\|finalize our reports, we'll get back## ###141414\|to you as soon as possible with the new date..."## [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Deadly Bread]] ===== > Filename: [[[https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/header2.png\|header2.png]]] > Name: Alnwick marketplace - snow - night.jpg > Author: [[[https://www.flickr.com/photos/andyarmstrong/\|Andy Armstrong]]] > License: CC BY-SA 2.0 > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alnwick_marketplace_-_snow_-_night.jpg\|Wikimedia Commons]]] > Filename: [[[https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/billgates.png\|billgates.png]]] > Name: Bill Gates mugshot.png > Author: Albuquerque, New Mexico police department > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bill_Gates_mugshot.png\|Wikimedia Commons]]] > Filename: [[[https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-bread-box/museum.png\|museum.png]]] > Name: Fernbank-25.jpg > Author: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Eoghanacht\|Eoghanacht]]] > License: Public Domain > Source Link: [[[https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fernbank-25.jpg\|Wikimedia Commons]]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-10T15:50:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "art-exchange", "tale" ]	Your Memory Forever Seen - SCP Foundation	13	[ "scp-4966", "scp-1401-ex", "scp-4052", "scp-4088", "scp-5522", "scp-4109", "scp-7441", "scp-5020", "scp-4035", "scp-4286", "scp-4270", "scp-4664", "scp-7966", "scp-3462", "scp-6663", "scp-5693", "scp-6633", "scp-4570", "scp-5261", "scp-444-j", "your-memory-forever-seen/p/2", "something-glowing", "log-of-extranormal-events-vol-ii", "prelude-to-presents", "the-bears", "scp-005-hub", "the-bread-box", "secure-facility-dossier-reliquary-area-27", "experiment-log-4035", "scp-4733", "scp-5225", "scp-5785", "scp-5993", "the-bathrooms-wiki", "broken-masquerade-epistolary", "gone", "your-imaginary-friend", "component:info-ayers", "the-old-masters", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "secure-facility-dossier-reliquary-area-27", "art-exchange-hub" ]	[]	1445438792	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/your-memory-forever-seen
your-place-was-empty	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <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>Your Place Was Empty</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/ariadnesthread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8157639); return false;"><img alt="AriadnesThread" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=8157639&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1736645207" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=8157639)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ariadnesthread" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(8157639); return false;">AriadnesThread</a></span></td> </tr> <tr> <th>Published on <span class="odate time_1697565405 format_%25d%20%25b%20%25Y">17 Oct 2023 17:56</span></th> </tr> </table> </div> </div></div> <br/></div> </div> <p>[[iftags +component]]</p> <div style="border: solid 2px #ededed; padding: 0.5rem; margin: 4px;"> <p>This is a component that animates the <strong><a href="/anomaly-classification-system-guide">ACS header</a></strong> upon loading.</p> <h2 id="toc0"><span>How to use:</span></h2> <p>Put this in anywhere in the article:</p> <div class="blockquote" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 120%;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[include :scp-wiki:component:acs-animation]]</span></p> </div> <p>And you're done!</p> <p><em>Example:</em> <strong><a href="/scp-5935">SCP-5935</a></strong></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <hr/> <h2 id="toc1"><span>Note:</span></h2> <p>- Two variables, <em><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">--timeScale</span></em> and <em><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">--timeDelay</span></em>, control the timings of the animation. For example:</p> <div class="blockquote" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 120%;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[module CSS]]</span><br/> :root {<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> --timeScale: 2;</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> --timeDelay: 0.5s;</span><br/> }<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[/module]]</span></p> </div> <p><em><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">--timeScale</span></em> slows down the entire animation by a factor of 2, and <em><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">--timeDelay</span></em> delays the starting point of the animation by half a second. Default values are 1 and 0s, respectively.</p> <p>To change the default values, put the above after the <tt>[[include]]</tt>. <em><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">--timeDelay</span></em> is recommended if the ACS isn't the first content element, or you're using it in conjunction with other animation modules (a la <strong><a href="/component:fade-in">Fade In</a></strong>.)</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>- Likely incompatible with other types of ACS headers.</p> <p>To use with <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/peppersghost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1553042); return false;"><img alt="PeppersGhost" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1553042&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043765" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1553042)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/peppersghost" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1553042); return false;">PeppersGhost</a></span>'s <a href="/component:acs-peppo-lite">ACS Lite</a>, add the following patch after the <tt>[[include]]</tt>:</p> <div class="blockquote" style="font-family: monospace; font-size: 120%;"> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[module CSS]]</span><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">/-- ACS Lite Animation Compatibility Patch --/</span><br/> .anom-bar > .bottom-box::before { display: none; }<br/> .anom-bar > .bottom-box { box-shadow: none!important; }<br/> div.diamond-part { clip-path: none; animation: none; box-shadow: none!important; }<br/> @media (max-width: 480px) {<br/> div.top-right-box { clip-path: polygon(0% -30%, 100% -30%, 100% 130%, 0% 130%); }<br/> }<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">[[/module]]</span></p> </div> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p>- Inspired by the works of <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ananomalouswriter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5184766); return false;"><img alt="AnAnomalousWriter" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=5184766&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1735043765" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=5184766)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/ananomalouswriter" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(5184766); return false;">AnAnomalousWriter</a></span>.</p> </div> <hr/> <h2 id="toc2"><span>Source Code:</span></h2> <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">timeScale:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</span><span class="hl-code">; --</span><span class="hl-reserved">timeDelay:</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> /</span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">Converting</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">middle</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">divider</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">box-shadow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> :</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">pseudo-element</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.bottom-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">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</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">div.bottom-box</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">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</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">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">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">rem</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">bottom:</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">left:</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(var(--swatch-menubg-black-color, </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">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"></span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">DIVIDER</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bottom-box</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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> divider</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.74</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.32</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.38</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.39</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.94</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</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">CLASSIFIED</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">LEVEL</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">BARS</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> bar</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.45</span><span class="hl-code">s var(--timeScale))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> ease-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </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">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.32</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(3) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.45</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(4) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.61</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(6) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.95</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">TEXT</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-right-box</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> polygon( </span><span class="hl-number">0</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-number">150</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-number">150</span><span class="hl-string">%</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-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">%</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-left-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-right-box</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">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">relative</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> bottomup</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.65</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> ease-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</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"></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">CONTAINMENT</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">DISRUPTION</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">RISK</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">CLASSES</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.text-part</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">clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> polygon( </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">%</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-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">%</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-number">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">%</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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> expand2</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s var(--timeScale))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.12</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.41</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.27</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.99</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.text-part</span><span class="hl-code"> > </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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> expand1</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.text-part</span><span class="hl-code"> > </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">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.text-part</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.text-part</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-special">:nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(3) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.86</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.main-class</span><span class="hl-code">:</span><span class="hl-special">:before</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.main-class</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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> iconslide</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.45</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.8</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.12</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.41</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.27</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.99</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</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">BOTTOM</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">div.main-class</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.disrupt-class</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.risk-class</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">white-space:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">nowrap</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> flowIn</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.42</span><span class="hl-code">s var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.75</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> ease-out</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</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"></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">DIAMOND</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier"></span><span class="hl-code">/ </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.arrows</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> arrowspin</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.65</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.55</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.12</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.41</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.27</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.99</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.quadrants</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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> fade</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.12</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.41</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.27</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.99</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-icon</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.right-icon</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.left-icon</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.bottom-icon</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> nodegrow</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">1.4</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.12</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.41</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.27</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.99</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">.bottom-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.diamond-part</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">.bottom-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.diamond-part</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">position:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">absolute</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">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">100</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">background-color:</span><span class="hl-code"> rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-black-color, </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-code">, </span><span class="hl-number">12</span><span class="hl-code">))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> diamondBorder</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.475</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.775</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-timing-function:</span><span class="hl-code"> cubic-bezier(</span><span class="hl-number">.28</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.72</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.55</span><span class="hl-code">,</span><span class="hl-number">.91</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-fill-mode:</span><span class="hl-code"> backwards</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">MOBILE</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">QUERY</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: 480</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">.anom-bar</span><span class="hl-code"> > </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.bottom-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"> initial</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">div.bottom-box</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">bottom:</span><span class="hl-code"> initial</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">top:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">40</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">div.top-center-box</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">animation-name:</span><span class="hl-code"> bar-mobile</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-duration:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.9</span><span class="hl-code">s var(--timeScale))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > :</span><span class="hl-identifier">nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(1) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.1</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > :</span><span class="hl-identifier">nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(2) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.2</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > :</span><span class="hl-identifier">nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(3) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.3</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > :</span><span class="hl-identifier">nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(4) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.4</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > :</span><span class="hl-identifier">nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(5) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.5</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">div.top-center-box</span><span class="hl-code"> > :</span><span class="hl-identifier">nth-child</span><span class="hl-code">(6) </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">animation-delay:</span><span class="hl-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">0.6</span><span class="hl-code">s * var(--timeScale) + var(--timeDelay))</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">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"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">screen</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">and</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">div.anom-bar-container</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">0</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-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-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">divider</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">0</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">to</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">bar</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">0</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">to</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">bar-mobile</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </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-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</span><span class="hl-code"> </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-string">%</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">bottomup</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">100</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">to</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">expand1</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">clip-path:</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-code"> calc(</span><span class="hl-number">100</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-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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</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-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</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-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">iconslide</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translateX(-</span><span class="hl-number">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">to</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-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translateX(</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">expand2</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">width:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-number">1</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">to</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-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">0.25</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-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"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">flowIn</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translateY(</span><span class="hl-number">20</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-identifier">to</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-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> translateY(</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-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">arrowspin</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">circle</span><span class="hl-code">(</span><span class="hl-number">0</span><span class="hl-string">%</span><span class="hl-code">)</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-reserved">transform:</span><span class="hl-code"> rotate(</span><span class="hl-number">135</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">to</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-reserved">clip-path:</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-string">circle</span><span class="hl-code">(</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-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"> </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">nodegrow</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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"> scale(</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">to</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"> scale(</span><span class="hl-number">1</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-var">@keyframes</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">diamondBorder</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-brackets">{</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">from</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">0</span><span class="hl-code">; </span><span class="hl-brackets">}</span><span class="hl-code"> </span><span class="hl-identifier">to</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">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-brackets">}</span></pre></div> </div> <br/> [[/iftags]] <p><iframe src="//interwiki.scpwiki.com/styleFrame.html?priority=2&theme=https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--code/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/2&css={$css}" style="display: none"></iframe></p> </div> <div class="info-container"> <div class="collapsible-block"> <div class="collapsible-block-unfolded" style="display:none"> <div class="collapsible-block-content"> <div> <p>Thank you for reading! Credit to my Critters: Nico, Torcs, Fish^12, Crow.<br/> Image is under Creative Commons license and owner information can be found at <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/achillifamily/10387154385">https://www.flickr.com/photos/achillifamily/10387154385</a>.</p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-author_block"> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="/ariadnes-malibu-dream-house">▸ More by this Author ◂</a></p> </div> <hr/> <div id="u-comments2" style="display: none;"> <p>{$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 class="scp-image-block block-center" style="width:100%;"><img alt="dallol.jpg" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/your-place-was-empty/dallol.jpg"/> <div class="scp-image-caption"> <p>ايُصْلِحُ (non-past transitive verb) - <em>to mend, heal, reconcile</em></p> </div> </div> <div class="indented"> <p>At exactly 6:00 am, Director of Site Security Gerald Nichols opened the exterior gate to Site-89 to allow two visiting researchers into the facility. Imam Farhad Rouhani of the Horizon Initiative, who had been to the site several times before and Amin Sadiq, a junior linguist from the Organization for the Reclamation of Islamic Artifacts, who had not. Both men were silent as they were ushered through security checkpoints, while Director Nichols was not (as per usual).</p> <p>"Good to see you both made it out here in one piece," Nichols said just a fraction too loud, as he never had his hearing aids turned up too high around this place. Gerald had learned early on that not everything at the facility was worth hearing at full volume, especially those goddamned klaxons. "Farhad, what's it been now, ten years?" He gave the Imam a wide grin, the shock of white hair bobbing along as the man hurried down the neutral white corridors towards the Research Wing, visitors in tow. It was a particularly stark contrast after coming in from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danakil_Depression">the active volcanic field outside</a> that Site-89 sat square in the middle of.</p> <p>Rouhani laughed, a deep chuckle that told Sadiq a great deal about the history between these two men, although it was hard for the younger man to imagine it. ORIA had never been on anything near good terms with al-Qāi'dah-SCP before. Obviously that wasn't the case between the Colonizers and the Initiative, but it didn't matter nor particularly surprise him. Sadiq was doing his best to not jump at every shadow just now, to suppress the ever present fear in his gut that in spite of the months of negotiations and cooperation, this was all just a particularly elaborate trap. It's not like it would be the first time. But ORIA Director Jafari had insisted things had changed, so Sadiq would have to have a little faith.</p> <p>The way the Director had chuckled after saying that had been unsettling, though.</p> <p>Nichols and Rouhani either failed to notice the younger man's silent nerves, which he found doubtful given the fact that white hairs rarely lie, or were trying to not make it actively worse as they chattered past him. Sadiq wasn't sure which one he would have preferred, inclusion or silence. Neither made him less on edge, but he supposed it would have been frustrating to try and keep pace with two men in their sixties excitedly shout-talking about their various travels.</p> <p>At this point, he just wanted to see the book.</p> <hr/> <p>Site Director Zala Ababe was a commanding presence, even in a mundane manuscript room with sedate lighting and carefully controlled temperature. Nichols had left Rouhani and Sadiq at the doorway after giving his boss a mock salute and vanishing back into the nondescript hallways, and it was only in that second that Sadiq realized that no, silence was worse. Calling anyone of al-Qāi'dah-SCP an 'enemy' was very old guard of him, but Amin had been trained by that Old Guard and couldn't help feel like he was staring down a woman who would have no hesitation at marching right over his corpse if it got in the way of her goals, however nebulous they were.</p> <p>But that voice in his head that sounded so much like Director Jafari couldn't help but pipe up to ask, were his fellows at ORIA any different?</p> <p>It was again Imam Rouhani to the rescue, who Sadiq was beginning to rather like. The man did seem to have a wonderful sense of timing to deflect these anxious moments where Amin felt like he was about to choke on his words rather than manage to get them out. "Ah, Director Ababe, I was just catching up with dear Gerald, but I did not realize I'd get to see you as well. This already has been well worth the trip." It was flowery, over the top, just this side of a shopkeeper offering tea before attempting to sell you the most overpriced rug in Tehran, but somehow even Sadiq realized it was just to cut the tension, in spite of his awkwardness.</p> <p>It was almost working.</p> <p>The Director's stone exterior softened, just a fraction, as she smiled at Rouhani with a brilliance that was surprising, given the fact that Sadiq was certain she had already planned at least two or three methods of disabling both men, should it be required. This was a woman who didn't take a lot of chances, but she did have a lovely smile. "Farhad, you don't need to pour it on quite so thickly. I have no doubt you're both eager to get to work."</p> <p>She stepped to the side, motioning to the archivist desk behind her.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7028">SCP-7028-3bn, as the Foundation labeled it, sat on the podium.</a> It was a simple, unassuming manuscript, although Sadiq couldn't help feel his heart swell to see the flowing Avestan script. By all rights, it shouldn't exist yet here it was, a lost piece of history miraculously returned. It's as if all three of them held their breath for just a moment, even the Director who undoubtedly had seen many more wonders created by the hands of those five monastics.</p> <p>"Well. You should have all that you need, but if you require anything, Endrick-McCallow said that she would be happy to aid in your research directly or passively. The phone there will go directly to her office. Gerald will also be back to ensure you two remember to eat lunch and dinner as well. I know that you're on a schedule here, so we wanted to ensure we took up as little of your time with protocol as possible." There was just a touch of amusement in her tone as she made to turn towards the door. "Forgive me for both literally and figuratively turning my back to you just now, but there are a few other things that require my attention today."</p> <p>Imam Rouhani's eyes were just a touch misty, never looking away from the Avesta before him. "A flower has no front or back, my dear Zala. You've already done so much. Thank you." His voice had the quiet awe of a pilgrim first beholding the Kaaba, and perhaps that was what broke Sadiq's frayed composure, his studied silence.</p> <p>"Why?" Amin hated the way his voice cracked just slightly, making him seem ridiculously young but the strain of it all had to escape somehow. "Just — why now? You know as well as I do what you've <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5495" target="_blank">done to us, you've blamed on us.</a> Why do you think you can play nice now?" He looked at Ababe with what he hoped was just frustration rather than the convoluted mass of anger, resentment, and fear that were also fighting for dominance. He'd been the only linguist who his superiors had trusted to <em>not</em> get angry, to cause a scene and yet here he was.</p> <p>Demanding answers he knew better than to think would be given.</p> <p>To Rouhani's credit, he did not attempt to intercede or make excuses for the young man from ORIA that he barely knew, but rather stood silently to the side as this little melodrama played out. Perhaps the Imam thought it impossible to avoid this kind of confrontation, given the history. Or perhaps he just knew by now when to keep his mouth shut. Either way, it wasn't his question to answer.</p> <p>But Ababe didn't hesitate to do so.</p> <p>"I suppose now is as good a time as any, but that isn't an answer that brings any peace, is it? <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oria-001" target="_blank">Our histories contain so much done so very wrong,</a> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4343" target="_blank">both combined and apart."</a> Zala stood silently, regarding the young researcher with an indecipherable gaze. No pity, thankfully, but too resolute to be understanding. "I can't do penance for the sins of the past, nor may I absolve them. Neither can you. But — well, what is that saying, Farhad?" She paused, looking over at the other man briefly.</p> <p>"… <em>jāt khāli-yé</em>. Your place was empty. I won't give you empty platitudes or pretend the past does not matter, because it always does. We know that deeper than most," Ababe continued, her Ethiopian accent making her Farsi sound a bit clipped, but getting the point across all the same. "But what I can ensure that the future that I am in control of — well, and so far as the Overseers have agreed with me — your seat at the table is to filled. As it should be." A shadow passed over her face, just briefly. "For too long have we been splintered, and the task is just too great."</p> <p>A sort of heaviness sat on Sadiq's shoulders at her answer, and he stumbled slightly as he tried to respond in kind. "The task is indeed great." He paused, feeling like an awkward lad of 8 at his first day of school, intimidated by the sheer scope of all that he did not know. "Thank you."</p> <p>Ababe inclined her head in understanding. "I'll leave you to your work, gentlemen." And it just as both researchers began to settle in, pulling out notebooks and approved paraphernalia, the Director paused again at the door way.</p> <p>"One question, if I may, Researcher Sadiq?" Amin looked up, a pencil already in his mouth for transcribing. "How did ORIA come to know of 7028-3?" It was asked in a tone that was intentionally detached, merely curious, but he could practically see Rouhani's shoulders shaking with restrained laughter from the corner of his vision. That had been the crux of the early negotiations, trying to get that information before any agreement was reached between the Organization and al-Qāi'dah-SCP, but taken off the table when it became clear it was a nonstarter.</p> <p>Masterful how she had elected to try and get it out of him now. But his superiors had cleared it, should anyone ask, so Sadiq fumbled to get the pen out of his mouth to answer. Properly.</p> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/koyaanisqatsi" target="_blank">"A persistent visitor to the dreams of our Director,</a> <em>khanoom</em>. Three of them, actually. They made it clear — well, that this was important."</p> <p>Director Ababe didn't laugh, not that anyone would have expected her to. But something clicked into place in her memory and she nodded at both men as she closed the door behind her without another word.</p> <p>As always, there was work to be done.</p> </div> <hr/> <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>AriadnesThread'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-7028">SCP-7028</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8520">SCP-8520</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-6830">SCP-6830</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-7801">SCP-7801</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8131">SCP-8131</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/scp-8028">SCP-8028</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="/the-virtue-of-resilience">The Virtue of Resilience</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/frollicles">Frollicles (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Baba Yaga)</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/burn-brightly">Ever Burning Brightly</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/a-once-and-future-king">Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/koyaanisqatsi">Koyaanisqatsi</a> <span class="collectiondot">•</span></p> </div> <div class="list-pages-item"> <p><a href="/i-think-i-could-be-brave">I Think I Could Be Brave</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="/ariadnes-malibu-dream-house">Ariadne's Malibu Dream House (of Leaves)</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="/your-place-was-empty">Your Place Was Empty</a>" by AriadnesThread, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/your-place-was-empty">https://scpwiki.com/your-place-was-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> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> dallol.jpg<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Ethiopia, Dallol, Danakil Depression<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> Achilli Family<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY 2.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/achillifamily/10387154385">https://www.flickr.com/photos/achillifamily/10387154385</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[div style="display: none"]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:flopstyle-dark">:scp-wiki:theme:flopstyle-dark</a> \|rhizome=a \|acs=a]] [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:wide-image-sizer">:scp-wiki:component:wide-image-sizer</a>]] [[module CSS]] #page-content .yui-nav li a { font-weight: bold; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:info-ayers">:scp-wiki:component:info-ayers</a> \|lang=en \|page=scp-7028 \|authorPage=/ariadnes-malibu-dream-house \|comments=Thank you for reading! Credit to my Critters: Nico, Torcs, Fish^12, Crow. Image is under Creative Commons license and owner information can be found at https://www.flickr.com/photos/achillifamily/10387154385. ]] [[module Rate]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:image-block">:scp-wiki:component:image-block</a> \|name=dallol.jpg \|caption=ايُصْلِحُ (non-past transitive verb) - //to mend, heal, reconcile// \|align=center \|width=100% ]] [[div class="indented"]] At exactly 6:00 am, Director of Site Security Gerald Nichols opened the exterior gate to Site-89 to allow two visiting researchers into the facility. Imam Farhad Rouhani of the Horizon Initiative, who had been to the site several times before and Amin Sadiq, a junior linguist from the Organization for the Reclamation of Islamic Artifacts, who had not. Both men were silent as they were ushered through security checkpoints, while Director Nichols was not (as per usual). "Good to see you both made it out here in one piece," Nichols said just a fraction too loud, as he never had his hearing aids turned up too high around this place. Gerald had learned early on that not everything at the facility was worth hearing at full volume, especially those goddamned klaxons. "Farhad, what's it been now, ten years?" He gave the Imam a wide grin, the shock of white hair bobbing along as the man hurried down the neutral white corridors towards the Research Wing, visitors in tow. It was a particularly stark contrast after coming in from [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danakil_Depression the active volcanic field outside] that Site-89 sat square in the middle of. Rouhani laughed, a deep chuckle that told Sadiq a great deal about the history between these two men, although it was hard for the younger man to imagine it. ORIA had never been on anything near good terms with al-Qāi'dah-SCP before. Obviously that wasn't the case between the Colonizers and the Initiative, but it didn't matter nor particularly surprise him. Sadiq was doing his best to not jump at every shadow just now, to suppress the ever present fear in his gut that in spite of the months of negotiations and cooperation, this was all just a particularly elaborate trap. It's not like it would be the first time. But ORIA Director Jafari had insisted things had changed, so Sadiq would have to have a little faith. The way the Director had chuckled after saying that had been unsettling, though. Nichols and Rouhani either failed to notice the younger man's silent nerves, which he found doubtful given the fact that white hairs rarely lie, or were trying to not make it actively worse as they chattered past him. Sadiq wasn't sure which one he would have preferred, inclusion or silence. Neither made him less on edge, but he supposed it would have been frustrating to try and keep pace with two men in their sixties excitedly shout-talking about their various travels. At this point, he just wanted to see the book. ------ Site Director Zala Ababe was a commanding presence, even in a mundane manuscript room with sedate lighting and carefully controlled temperature. Nichols had left Rouhani and Sadiq at the doorway after giving his boss a mock salute and vanishing back into the nondescript hallways, and it was only in that second that Sadiq realized that no, silence was worse. Calling anyone of al-Qāi'dah-SCP an 'enemy' was very old guard of him, but Amin had been trained by that Old Guard and couldn't help feel like he was staring down a woman who would have no hesitation at marching right over his corpse if it got in the way of her goals, however nebulous they were. But that voice in his head that sounded so much like Director Jafari couldn't help but pipe up to ask, were his fellows at ORIA any different? It was again Imam Rouhani to the rescue, who Sadiq was beginning to rather like. The man did seem to have a wonderful sense of timing to deflect these anxious moments where Amin felt like he was about to choke on his words rather than manage to get them out. "Ah, Director Ababe, I was just catching up with dear Gerald, but I did not realize I'd get to see you as well. This already has been well worth the trip." It was flowery, over the top, just this side of a shopkeeper offering tea before attempting to sell you the most overpriced rug in Tehran, but somehow even Sadiq realized it was just to cut the tension, in spite of his awkwardness. It was almost working. The Director's stone exterior softened, just a fraction, as she smiled at Rouhani with a brilliance that was surprising, given the fact that Sadiq was certain she had already planned at least two or three methods of disabling both men, should it be required. This was a woman who didn't take a lot of chances, but she did have a lovely smile. "Farhad, you don't need to pour it on quite so thickly. I have no doubt you're both eager to get to work." She stepped to the side, motioning to the archivist desk behind her. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-7028 SCP-7028-3bn, as the Foundation labeled it, sat on the podium.] It was a simple, unassuming manuscript, although Sadiq couldn't help feel his heart swell to see the flowing Avestan script. By all rights, it shouldn't exist yet here it was, a lost piece of history miraculously returned. It's as if all three of them held their breath for just a moment, even the Director who undoubtedly had seen many more wonders created by the hands of those five monastics. "Well. You should have all that you need, but if you require anything, Endrick-McCallow said that she would be happy to aid in your research directly or passively. The phone there will go directly to her office. Gerald will also be back to ensure you two remember to eat lunch and dinner as well. I know that you're on a schedule here, so we wanted to ensure we took up as little of your time with protocol as possible." There was just a touch of amusement in her tone as she made to turn towards the door. "Forgive me for both literally and figuratively turning my back to you just now, but there are a few other things that require my attention today." Imam Rouhani's eyes were just a touch misty, never looking away from the Avesta before him. "A flower has no front or back, my dear Zala. You've already done so much. Thank you." His voice had the quiet awe of a pilgrim first beholding the Kaaba, and perhaps that was what broke Sadiq's frayed composure, his studied silence. "Why?" Amin hated the way his voice cracked just slightly, making him seem ridiculously young but the strain of it all had to escape somehow. "Just -- why now? You know as well as I do what you've [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5495 done to us, you've blamed on us.] Why do you think you can play nice now?" He looked at Ababe with what he hoped was just frustration rather than the convoluted mass of anger, resentment, and fear that were also fighting for dominance. He'd been the only linguist who his superiors had trusted to //not// get angry, to cause a scene and yet here he was. Demanding answers he knew better than to think would be given. To Rouhani's credit, he did not attempt to intercede or make excuses for the young man from ORIA that he barely knew, but rather stood silently to the side as this little melodrama played out. Perhaps the Imam thought it impossible to avoid this kind of confrontation, given the history. Or perhaps he just knew by now when to keep his mouth shut. Either way, it wasn't his question to answer. But Ababe didn't hesitate to do so. "I suppose now is as good a time as any, but that isn't an answer that brings any peace, is it? [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/oria-001 Our histories contain so much done so very wrong,] [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4343 both combined and apart."] Zala stood silently, regarding the young researcher with an indecipherable gaze. No pity, thankfully, but too resolute to be understanding. "I can't do penance for the sins of the past, nor may I absolve them. Neither can you. But -- well, what is that saying, Farhad?" She paused, looking over at the other man briefly. "... //jāt khāli-yé//. Your place was empty. I won't give you empty platitudes or pretend the past does not matter, because it always does. We know that deeper than most," Ababe continued, her Ethiopian accent making her Farsi sound a bit clipped, but getting the point across all the same. "But what I can ensure that the future that I am in control of -- well, and so far as the Overseers have agreed with me -- your seat at the table is to filled. As it should be." A shadow passed over her face, just briefly. "For too long have we been splintered, and the task is just too great." A sort of heaviness sat on Sadiq's shoulders at her answer, and he stumbled slightly as he tried to respond in kind. "The task is indeed great." He paused, feeling like an awkward lad of 8 at his first day of school, intimidated by the sheer scope of all that he did not know. "Thank you." Ababe inclined her head in understanding. "I'll leave you to your work, gentlemen." And it just as both researchers began to settle in, pulling out notebooks and approved paraphernalia, the Director paused again at the door way. "One question, if I may, Researcher Sadiq?" Amin looked up, a pencil already in his mouth for transcribing. "How did ORIA come to know of 7028-3?" It was asked in a tone that was intentionally detached, merely curious, but he could practically see Rouhani's shoulders shaking with restrained laughter from the corner of his vision. That had been the crux of the early negotiations, trying to get that information before any agreement was reached between the Organization and al-Qāi'dah-SCP, but taken off the table when it became clear it was a nonstarter. Masterful how she had elected to try and get it out of him now. But his superiors had cleared it, should anyone ask, so Sadiq fumbled to get the pen out of his mouth to answer. Properly. [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/koyaanisqatsi "A persistent visitor to the dreams of our Director,] //khanoom//. Three of them, actually. They made it clear -- well, that this was important." Director Ababe didn't laugh, not that anyone would have expected her to. But something clicked into place in her memory and she nodded at both men as she closed the door behind her without another word. As always, there was work to be done. [[/div]] ------ [[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: dallol.jpg > Name: Ethiopia, Dallol, Danakil Depression > Author: Achilli Family > License: CC BY 2.0 > Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/achillifamily/10387154385 [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-10-17T17:56:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "horizon-initiative", "oria", "tale" ]	Your Place Was Empty - SCP Foundation	29	[ "anomaly-classification-system-guide", "scp-5935", "component:fade-in", "component:acs-peppo-lite", "ariadnes-malibu-dream-house", "component:info-ayers", "scp-7028", "scp-5495", "oria-001", "scp-4343", "koyaanisqatsi", "scp-8520", "scp-6830", "scp-7801", "scp-8131", "scp-8028", "the-virtue-of-resilience", "frollicles", "burn-brightly", "a-once-and-future-king", "i-think-i-could-be-brave", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023", "oria-hub", "horizon-initiative-hub" ]	[ "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/your-place-was-empty/dallol.jpg" ]	1450797379	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/your-place-was-empty
zaijian	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <p>Hey kid,</p> <p>You know, I never knew how I'd write this. It's been on my mind long before today but I've finally gotten the balls to put it onto paper.</p> <p>But, well, I'm retiring.</p> <p>Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate it here. Every day I still get to see the same people who make me smile, who make my job here easier. We crack jokes about how we don't get paid enough for this, about the good ol' days before we implemented this modern tech, or about how old we're getting.</p> <p>See, that's the thing. I think I'm too old to keep doing this.</p> <p>Sure, there are older folks. I know there's one grandma who's at least a decade older than me, and she knows damn well what she's doing. That's great and all, but all those old folks? They still got that kick in them, still got that spark to keep making this place better for everyone else. Me?</p> <p>Well, I think you can figure it out on your own.</p> <p>You know, I always wondered where I would get, working at this site. I always figured that I'd work here, forget all the weird stuff, and apply any skills I got in the job market. To think, I'd be stuck here for so long that I'm considering retiring.</p> <p>Wow.</p> <p>I started working here with two other friends. Did you know that? Called ourselves the Triumvirate, said that we'd make our names known. And damned if we didn't!</p> <p>Things were easier back when the Triumvirate was whole. We all had different roles, but goddamnit did I look forward to seeing their faces. You know the saying, three stinking bastards can beat the sleeping dragon? It felt like we could do anything when we were together.</p> <p>One of them made a name for himself by getting into trouble with one of the departments on his first couple of days! Got a whole bunch of complaints that he was difficult to work with, and then he became one of the greatest men that team ever saw.</p> <p>'Course, he was the first one of us to leave.</p> <p>The other one stuck around with me much longer, god help his soul. He knew damn well what he was doing, probably the best out of us, and got promoted fast. Never saw a more deserving candidate than him. Ended up leading one of the sections I was in.</p> <p>That wasn't enough to keep him at the site, and he left too. Maybe not permanently, given he's still on the payroll list and I think a couple guys have him on speed dial, but I haven't seen him since.</p> <p>Which leaves me.</p> <p>I'm getting old, kid. Gone are the dreams of me quitting and finding a job in the light. Nobody wants to hire an old bastard past his prime. Folks my age, we're no longer "clever" or "gifted" anymore. It's always something about "experience" or "being outdated" with me.</p> <p>Granted, I don't trust all this new tech, but you shouldn't either. Write those damn reports yourself, don't just feed it to an AI. Who knows what mistakes it could make. Can't trust anybody but yourself.</p> <p>I've still got stuff keeping me attached to this site. I've got lots of friends and jokes to crack. There's always new folks to train, section heads to support, researchers to bug. Hell, we've even got evil corporations to battle. The whole nine yards.</p> <p>The fight with the Mouse never ends, right?</p> <p>But I also know that I'm falling out of love with this job. I don't attend meetings every time. Never liked them, but I stopped caring enough to finally quit showing up. Did wonders for my mental health too.</p> <p>All that work I used to do, that made me famous to begin with? It's become an afterthought. Which I kinda prefer. Looking back, fame and glory was kind of a kiddy dream.</p> <p>You ever read Romance of the Three Kingdoms? There's a scene where Xuande, Yunchang, and Yide become sworn blood brothers under a peach tree. Sworn to live together, sworn to die together. This workplace was our peach tree. Our desire to help the site was our oath. Now that my two buddies have left, what's the point of being known?</p> <p>We were brothers, and now there's just me.</p> <p>These past few years haven't been all rainbows and sunshine. Friends of mine left, one after another. Some willingly with a clean rap sheet, some marred by scandal. A couple left because they couldn't handle what was happening to this site and went to some that suited their talents more.</p> <p>And life moved on.</p> <p>You know, now that I think about it, I talk about how I don't care about being known anymore but I wonder. What will my legacy be?</p> <p>Will I be someone who did what he could for the site to stay afloat? Will I be an infuriating prick who harassed people for breaking rules they probably would never get in trouble for? Someone beloved by his coworkers? Someone who was beyond incompetent and only barely tolerable?</p> <p>I haven't worked up the courage to ask yet. Probably never will.</p> <p>One of my superiors was named Billy. Maybe you remember him, or maybe he was before your time. Billy was a strange one. The first day I met him, he hugged me. Closely.</p> <p>And when he let me go, he said to me, with the most serious tone you could ever imagine, that he was listening to my heartbeat. He was a weird one.</p> <p>He also saved my life.</p> <p>I was at a pretty low point. You remember my name? Course you do, it's right down there. But, you can probably notice that it's not exactly the most Asian name. Doesn't suit me. That's cause I was named after some dude my mom listened to at a concert.</p> <p>I always hated my name, for as long as I could remember. Others damn well couldn't, and even today, there's still some folks on the site who don't remember. Only you do.</p> <p>Or maybe you don't and need to look at who wrote the letter. Again.</p> <p>I hated it because it wasn't me. It was someone I was expected to become. Which, you know, I couldn't. I'm Asian, and the guy was white.</p> <p>I held a lot of self-loathing, and it didn't help that my friends on the light side, those who don't know about this organization, began turning me into a bigot. Telling me I should hate my Asianness, that I should embrace society's fucked up nature, that I should hate the gays, that I should hate the color pink.</p> <p>Billy was the one who brought me out of that dark night. He taught me to love myself again, that there was still hope to be found, that I could take my name and turn it into one of my own.</p> <p>I never got to thank Billy. I'm not good with speaking. You know that. My gratitude was always implied but as my dad once said,</p> <p>"Why imply something when you could just do it?"</p> <p>And, well, he was right. I never knew if Billy knew just how thankful I was for his help. And now that he's gone, I probably never will, just like I can't even ask a single goddamn coworker whether I did good or not.</p> <p>Fun.</p> <p>You know, my grandfather passed away while I was in middle school. Before he died, my dad asked me to write him a letter. English, if I had to. Just something. He'd told my grandfather that I wrote stories, incredible stories beloved by tons of people. He'd exaggerated, sure, but it made my grandpa proud of me. He asked me to write something, just for him.</p> <p>And I didn't.</p> <p>I had loads of time. I hadn't seen him in years, so I had plenty of material to write too. Anything was fine. Didn't matter that he couldn't read it, he could just ask my dad to translate it.</p> <p>But I just never picked up the pen and paper. Never wrote so much as "亲爱的爷爷," not even a date. I just never knew what to write, or when to write it.</p> <p>And as the days slipped by, he died, without ever receiving a letter from me. He died without closure, never having heard from his grandchildren since a visit back in elementary school, waiting for a letter that would never arrive.</p> <p>My dad never forgave me since then.</p> <p>Maybe Billy is still alive. Or maybe not. Maybe I should have written this letter to him, hoping that he'd find it one day, and know just how grateful I was for his help.</p> <p>Maybe I should.</p> <p>And here you are, having come to the end of an old man's rambling. I couldn't bear to go without leaving you with a letter, to show how much I loved you, kid. All the memories you gave me. All the misery, all the headaches, all the laughs.</p> <p>You thanked me for my efforts, picked up the slack when I was ill, spoke to me during our breaks. You reminded that I was human, that I wasn't lost inside this cold abyss of a site. That a bright future still laid in front of me, with you and everyone else by my side. You made me feel loved, and you made sure that I remembered that.</p> <p>I almost stayed. For you.</p> <p>But, my fight with the sleeping dragon is coming to an end.</p> <p>Thank you for everything. I hope my legacy isn't too bad in your eyes.</p> <p>Regards,</p> <p>Victor</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="/zaijian">Retirement Letter</a>" by Naepic, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/zaijian">https://scpwiki.com/zaijian</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]] [[/>]] Hey kid, You know, I never knew how I'd write this. It's been on my mind long before today but I've finally gotten the balls to put it onto paper. But, well, I'm retiring. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate it here. Every day I still get to see the same people who make me smile, who make my job here easier. We crack jokes about how we don't get paid enough for this, about the good ol' days before we implemented this modern tech, or about how old we're getting. See, that's the thing. I think I'm too old to keep doing this. Sure, there are older folks. I know there's one grandma who's at least a decade older than me, and she knows damn well what she's doing. That's great and all, but all those old folks? They still got that kick in them, still got that spark to keep making this place better for everyone else. Me? Well, I think you can figure it out on your own. You know, I always wondered where I would get, working at this site. I always figured that I'd work here, forget all the weird stuff, and apply any skills I got in the job market. To think, I'd be stuck here for so long that I'm considering retiring. Wow. I started working here with two other friends. Did you know that? Called ourselves the Triumvirate, said that we'd make our names known. And damned if we didn't! Things were easier back when the Triumvirate was whole. We all had different roles, but goddamnit did I look forward to seeing their faces. You know the saying, three stinking bastards can beat the sleeping dragon? It felt like we could do anything when we were together. One of them made a name for himself by getting into trouble with one of the departments on his first couple of days! Got a whole bunch of complaints that he was difficult to work with, and then he became one of the greatest men that team ever saw. 'Course, he was the first one of us to leave. The other one stuck around with me much longer, god help his soul. He knew damn well what he was doing, probably the best out of us, and got promoted fast. Never saw a more deserving candidate than him. Ended up leading one of the sections I was in. That wasn't enough to keep him at the site, and he left too. Maybe not permanently, given he's still on the payroll list and I think a couple guys have him on speed dial, but I haven't seen him since. Which leaves me. I'm getting old, kid. Gone are the dreams of me quitting and finding a job in the light. Nobody wants to hire an old bastard past his prime. Folks my age, we're no longer "clever" or "gifted" anymore. It's always something about "experience" or "being outdated" with me. Granted, I don't trust all this new tech, but you shouldn't either. Write those damn reports yourself, don't just feed it to an AI. Who knows what mistakes it could make. Can't trust anybody but yourself. I've still got stuff keeping me attached to this site. I've got lots of friends and jokes to crack. There's always new folks to train, section heads to support, researchers to bug. Hell, we've even got evil corporations to battle. The whole nine yards. The fight with the Mouse never ends, right? But I also know that I'm falling out of love with this job. I don't attend meetings every time. Never liked them, but I stopped caring enough to finally quit showing up. Did wonders for my mental health too. All that work I used to do, that made me famous to begin with? It's become an afterthought. Which I kinda prefer. Looking back, fame and glory was kind of a kiddy dream. You ever read Romance of the Three Kingdoms? There's a scene where Xuande, Yunchang, and Yide become sworn blood brothers under a peach tree. Sworn to live together, sworn to die together. This workplace was our peach tree. Our desire to help the site was our oath. Now that my two buddies have left, what's the point of being known? We were brothers, and now there's just me. These past few years haven't been all rainbows and sunshine. Friends of mine left, one after another. Some willingly with a clean rap sheet, some marred by scandal. A couple left because they couldn't handle what was happening to this site and went to some that suited their talents more. And life moved on. You know, now that I think about it, I talk about how I don't care about being known anymore but I wonder. What will my legacy be? Will I be someone who did what he could for the site to stay afloat? Will I be an infuriating prick who harassed people for breaking rules they probably would never get in trouble for? Someone beloved by his coworkers? Someone who was beyond incompetent and only barely tolerable? I haven't worked up the courage to ask yet. Probably never will. One of my superiors was named Billy. Maybe you remember him, or maybe he was before your time. Billy was a strange one. The first day I met him, he hugged me. Closely. And when he let me go, he said to me, with the most serious tone you could ever imagine, that he was listening to my heartbeat. He was a weird one. He also saved my life. I was at a pretty low point. You remember my name? Course you do, it's right down there. But, you can probably notice that it's not exactly the most Asian name. Doesn't suit me. That's cause I was named after some dude my mom listened to at a concert. I always hated my name, for as long as I could remember. Others damn well couldn't, and even today, there's still some folks on the site who don't remember. Only you do. Or maybe you don't and need to look at who wrote the letter. Again. I hated it because it wasn't me. It was someone I was expected to become. Which, you know, I couldn't. I'm Asian, and the guy was white. I held a lot of self-loathing, and it didn't help that my friends on the light side, those who don't know about this organization, began turning me into a bigot. Telling me I should hate my Asianness, that I should embrace society's fucked up nature, that I should hate the gays, that I should hate the color pink. Billy was the one who brought me out of that dark night. He taught me to love myself again, that there was still hope to be found, that I could take my name and turn it into one of my own. I never got to thank Billy. I'm not good with speaking. You know that. My gratitude was always implied but as my dad once said, "Why imply something when you could just do it?" And, well, he was right. I never knew if Billy knew just how thankful I was for his help. And now that he's gone, I probably never will, just like I can't even ask a single goddamn coworker whether I did good or not. Fun. You know, my grandfather passed away while I was in middle school. Before he died, my dad asked me to write him a letter. English, if I had to. Just something. He'd told my grandfather that I wrote stories, incredible stories beloved by tons of people. He'd exaggerated, sure, but it made my grandpa proud of me. He asked me to write something, just for him. And I didn't. I had loads of time. I hadn't seen him in years, so I had plenty of material to write too. Anything was fine. Didn't matter that he couldn't read it, he could just ask my dad to translate it. But I just never picked up the pen and paper. Never wrote so much as "亲爱的爷爷," not even a date. I just never knew what to write, or when to write it. And as the days slipped by, he died, without ever receiving a letter from me. He died without closure, never having heard from his grandchildren since a visit back in elementary school, waiting for a letter that would never arrive. My dad never forgave me since then. Maybe Billy is still alive. Or maybe not. Maybe I should have written this letter to him, hoping that he'd find it one day, and know just how grateful I was for his help. Maybe I should. And here you are, having come to the end of an old man's rambling. I couldn't bear to go without leaving you with a letter, to show how much I loved you, kid. All the memories you gave me. All the misery, all the headaches, all the laughs. You thanked me for my efforts, picked up the slack when I was ill, spoke to me during our breaks. You reminded that I was human, that I wasn't lost inside this cold abyss of a site. That a bright future still laid in front of me, with you and everyone else by my side. You made me feel loved, and you made sure that I remembered that. I almost stayed. For you. But, my fight with the sleeping dragon is coming to an end. Thank you for everything. I hope my legacy isn't too bad in your eyes. Regards, Victor [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a> \|author=Naepic]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-01-23T13:42:00	[ "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "correspondence", "first-person", "lgbtq", "tale" ]	Retirement Letter - SCP Foundation	37	[ "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1445630187	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/zaijian
zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel	<html><body><div id="page-content"> <div> <p><a href="/canon-hub">Canon Hub of the Englisch-speaking Branch</a> » <a href="/pitch-haven-hub">ㄗITCH 卄AVEN</a> » Two without Name and Title</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>Original-Article:</strong> <a href="http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel">Zwei ohne Namen und Titel</a><br/> <strong>Autor:</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=1720188520" 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></p> <p><strong>Canon:</strong> <a href="/pitch-haven-hub" target="_blank">ㄗITCH 卄AVEN</a></p> <p><strong>Images:</strong></p> <ul> <li><a href="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-2746/Govt_Logo.jpg">Govt_Logo.jpg</a> comes from <a href="/scp-2746" target="_blank">SCP-2746</a></li> <li><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Etz_Chaim.svg">Etz_Chaim.svg</a> comes from Wikimedia Commons and is under the Licence <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en">Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International</a></li> <li><a href="http://scp-wiki-de.wdfiles.com/local--files/fragment%3Astandortliste-de/Standort-DE20_logo-400.png">Standort-DE20-Logo</a> was created by Grom and can be found at <a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/standortliste#u-DE20">DE's Site List</a></li> </ul> </div> <hr/> </div> </div> </div> </li> </ul> <div style="text-align: justify;"> <div class="outside"> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc0"><span><span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Forest of the Banished Ones</span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc1"><span>█████████, <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2746" target="_blank">████</a></span></h4> </div> </div> <p>Quietly, the feet scurried over the leaves that covered the forest floor. Nimbly, the owner hopped and ducked over roots and under bushes and tree trunks.<br/> The vixen had a goal and it could be found in a hollow.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"Oh, <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Wolf</span>, why do you lie so sad and hidden in such a place?"</p> <p>The vixen pushed her face into the wolf's field of vision.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„<span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Vixen</span>, wretched cheater, what do you care?“</p> <p>The large creature barely lifted its eyelids once.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„I am worried, my dearest.“<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„I know you. This is not pity. Oh no, it can't be any further than that. You're afraid you won't have anyone left to torment with your pranks. You've fooled me too many times already.“</p> <p>And so the wolf turned around so that he would no longer see the vixen. To his surprise, anger and hurt could be heard in the vixen's following words:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„Oh, have I hurt your pride that you no longer believe a word I say on principle‽“</p> <p>The wolf stood up. Now his curiosity was awakened after all. Calmly he answered:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„The truth is quite clear: yes, once, twice too often you have abused my goodwill for your pranks. What should make me think differently now, dear friend and enemy?"</p> <p>The vixen hesitated, well aware that the wolf had a right to ask about her motives. The wolf saw how his counterpart inwardly tried to find a good defence and failed.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"I'm sorry," she stammered, "you have to believe me that this is not one of my little games."</p> <p>The wolf was moved, because he knew that the vixen meant it when she made a promise. A promise was worth too much here to just break it like that.</p> </div> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc2"><span><span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Finsterhain</span></span></h3> <h4 id="toc3"><span><em>Outside World</em></span></h4> </div> </div> <p>Branches and twigs crackled under the feet of a woman with bushy hair as she walked with steady steps through the undergrowth. On her shoulders she carried a whole lot of furs still worn by their deceased owners.<br/> Her destination was a hollow where a young man crouched under two trees, regularly feeding a fire with wood. The flames had an uncharacteristic colouring for the type of fuel.<br/> The dark-haired woman placed her hunting prey next to the fire so that the red-haired man could see her. The man looked with an expressionless gaze at the dead animals, then at the huntress.<br/> The woman moved her head in different directions, a little unsure where to look.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„I asked them beforehand. They had the opportunity to identify themselves as intelligent.“</p> <p>Then the woman sat down with her friend and pushed herself close to him so that they could share their only woollen blanket and keep each other warm. The man's body language showed a slight hesitation that was not because his friend was the taller of the two, but he let it happen. The woman didn't seem to notice.<br/> Somewhat absently, the woman ran her hand over her right wrist, which still bore clear bite marks of a predator.<br/> The man gingerly felt the left side of his neck, where a reddish-pink scar extended up to his ear, with a good chunk of skin and the pinna missing. The area was in the process of healing and growing back.<br/> The eyes of the two met, but neither spoke.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„Eat something, <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Fox</span>, it will help it grow back faster.“</p> <p>The man grabbed one of the limp bodies, that of a hare, and began to chew on it. A cracking sound could be heard as the strong jaws and teeth broke the bones.<br/> The woman watched the goings-on before asking her counterpart with a slight grin, "Don't you want me to roast them over the fire?"<br/> A sheepish smile appeared on the man's face.</p> <hr/> <div class="one column"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h3 id="toc4"><span><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/standortliste#u-DE20" target="_blank">Esoteric-Site-DE20</a></span></h3> <h4 id="toc5"><span>Glarus Alps, Switzerland</span></h4> </div> </div> <p>Through the quiet corridors of a sector of Site-DE20, two agents walk silently, lost in their thoughts.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"What are you thinking about?" asks the athletic, red-haired woman.</p> <p>Her colleague with the angular features takes a moment to put his thoughts into words.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"How we met back then and how you asked me to leave our home."</p> <p>This is unexpected for his partner.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"Do you think it was a mistake?"<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"Do you regret it?"<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"I asked you first."</p> <p>They both remain silent. The small quarters for the staff, where researchers and agents can spend the night, come into view.<br/> The two slip into the room with the number plate 34 and the bunk bed. The man turns a switch button from the green field with Free to the red one with Occupied.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"I sleep upstairs!" says the woman, hopping briskly up the stairs - taking care not to touch the sheets with her work boots - and then throwing down her things from upstairs that might disturb her rest.<br/> The man almost demonstratively takes his time, but when he too has made himself comfortable, he sighs in relaxation.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"To your question: No," he answers, facing the wall.<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„What do you mean, <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/seltsame-dinge-geschehen-an-ruhigen-tagen-prolog" target="_blank">Wolf</a></span>?“<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„I just wanted to share that I don't regret it, <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"><a href="http://scp-int.wikidot.com/seltsame-dinge-geschehen-an-ruhigen-tagen-prolog" target="_blank">Fuchs</a></span> that we left."</p> <p>Agent <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Wolf</span> listens to the ensuing silence before hearing someone climb down and the bed crack barely audibly as another person lies down on it.<br/> <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Fuchs</span> snuggles up against his back.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„I miss the others. <a href="/scp-1913">Agatha, Fredrick,</a> <a href="/scp-2792">Sari,</a> <a href="/scp-2999">Suwaird,</a> and Maximiliane.“</p> <p><span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Wolf</span> turns around. He puts his arms around his friend as best he can in the now somewhat tighter space.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„Don't get me wrong. I just don't like it when you breathe down my neck or snot all over my uniform.“</p> <p><span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Fuchs</span> giggles and rubs her nose against one of his sleeves, knowing full well that he too was seeking comfort.<br/> They lie still for a minute before <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Wolf</span> whispers:</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„I don't want to ruin this touching moment, but the uniforms insulate really well.“<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„Yes, i feel hot too, but i didn't want to say anything.“</p> <p>The two giggle. Again there is a moment of silence as they both lie on their backs looking at the underside of the bed. Then <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Fuchs</span> becomes restless again.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"Do you actually trust me now, you know, after all these decades?"<br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>"Of course I don't. You play tricks on me just like you did back then.“</p> <p><span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Fuchs</span> sulks, but she can't stay angry with her friend for long.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span>„But what has changed is that I can laugh along now."</p> <p>Then he pushed <span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;">Fuchs</span> over the edge of the bed so that she fell onto the floor. They both laugh as they throw their pillows at each other.</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="/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel">Two without Name and Title</a>" by Einer von Rabe, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel">https://scpwiki.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel</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> Govt_Logo.jpg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;"><img alt="Fantem" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=1391641&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188520" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=1391641)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/fantem" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(1391641); return false;">Fantem</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2746">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Standort-DE20_logo-400.png<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> <span class="printuser avatarhover"><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-grom" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2026083); return false;"><img alt="Dr_Grom" class="small" src="https://www.wikidot.com/avatar.php?userid=2026083&amp;size=small&amp;timestamp=1720188520" style="background-image:url(https://www.wikidot.com/userkarma.php?u=2026083)"/></a><a href="http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/dr-grom" onclick="WIKIDOT.page.listeners.userInfo(2026083); return false;">Dr_Grom</a></span><br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 3.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel">SCP Foundation Wiki</a></p> </blockquote> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> baum.png<br/> <strong>Name:</strong> Etz Chaim.svg<br/> <strong>Author:</strong> FLLL, פֿינצטערניש.<br/> <strong>License:</strong> CC BY-SA 4.0<br/> <strong>Source Link:</strong> <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Etz_Chaim.svg">Wikimedia Commons</a></p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[div class="psuedocrumbs“]] [[[canon-hub \|Canon Hub of the Englisch-speaking Branch]]] >> [[[pitch-haven-hub \|ㄗITCH 卄AVEN]]] >> Two without Name and Title [[/div]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] Original-Article: [http://scp-wiki-de.wikidot.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel Zwei ohne Namen und Titel] Autor: [[user einer von Rabe]] Canon:* [/pitch-haven-hub ㄗITCH 卄AVEN] Images:* * [https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-2746/Govt_Logo.jpg Govt_Logo.jpg] comes from [/scp-2746 SCP-2746] [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Etz_Chaim.svg Etz_Chaim.svg] comes from Wikimedia Commons and is under the Licence [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International] * [http://scp-wiki-de.wdfiles.com/local--files/fragment%3Astandortliste-de/Standort-DE20_logo-400.png Standort-DE20-Logo] was created by Grom and can be found at [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/standortliste#u-DE20 DE's Site List] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:end">:scp-wiki:info:end</a>]] [[==]] [[div class="outside"]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-2746/Govt_Logo.jpg width="75px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] +++ [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Forest of the Banished Ones[[/span]] ++++ █████████, [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2746 ████] [[/=]] [[/div]] Quietly, the feet scurried over the leaves that covered the forest floor. Nimbly, the owner hopped and ducked over roots and under bushes and tree trunks. The vixen had a goal and it could be found in a hollow. @@ @@"Oh, [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Wolf[[/span]], why do you lie so sad and hidden in such a place?" The vixen pushed her face into the wolf's field of vision. @@ @@„[[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Vixen[[/span]], wretched cheater, what do you care?“ The large creature barely lifted its eyelids once. @@ @@„I am worried, my dearest.“ @@ @@„I know you. This is not pity. Oh no, it can't be any further than that. You're afraid you won't have anyone left to torment with your pranks. You've fooled me too many times already.“ And so the wolf turned around so that he would no longer see the vixen. To his surprise, anger and hurt could be heard in the vixen's following words: @@ @@„Oh, have I hurt your pride that you no longer believe a word I say on principle‽“ The wolf stood up. Now his curiosity was awakened after all. Calmly he answered: @@ @@„The truth is quite clear: yes, once, twice too often you have abused my goodwill for your pranks. What should make me think differently now, dear friend and enemy?" The vixen hesitated, well aware that the wolf had a right to ask about her motives. The wolf saw how his counterpart inwardly tried to find a good defence and failed. @@ @@"I'm sorry," she stammered, "you have to believe me that this is not one of my little games." The wolf was moved, because he knew that the vixen meant it when she made a promise. A promise was worth too much here to just break it like that. [[/div]] ------ [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel/baum.png width="75px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] +++ [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Finsterhain[[/span]] ++++ //Outside World// [[/=]] [[/div]] Branches and twigs crackled under the feet of a woman with bushy hair as she walked with steady steps through the undergrowth. On her shoulders she carried a whole lot of furs still worn by their deceased owners. Her destination was a hollow where a young man crouched under two trees, regularly feeding a fire with wood. The flames had an uncharacteristic colouring for the type of fuel. The dark-haired woman placed her hunting prey next to the fire so that the red-haired man could see her. The man looked with an expressionless gaze at the dead animals, then at the huntress. The woman moved her head in different directions, a little unsure where to look. @@ @@„I asked them beforehand. They had the opportunity to identify themselves as intelligent.“ Then the woman sat down with her friend and pushed herself close to him so that they could share their only woollen blanket and keep each other warm. The man's body language showed a slight hesitation that was not because his friend was the taller of the two, but he let it happen. The woman didn't seem to notice. Somewhat absently, the woman ran her hand over her right wrist, which still bore clear bite marks of a predator. The man gingerly felt the left side of his neck, where a reddish-pink scar extended up to his ear, with a good chunk of skin and the pinna missing. The area was in the process of healing and growing back. The eyes of the two met, but neither spoke. @@ @@„Eat something, [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Fox[[/span]], it will help it grow back faster.“ The man grabbed one of the limp bodies, that of a hare, and began to chew on it. A cracking sound could be heard as the strong jaws and teeth broke the bones. The woman watched the goings-on before asking her counterpart with a slight grin, "Don't you want me to roast them over the fire?" A sheepish smile appeared on the man's face. ~~~~ ------ [[=]] @@ @@ [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel/Standort-DE20.png width="75px"]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="one column"]] [[=]] +++ [http://scp-int.wikidot.com/standortliste#u-DE20 Esoteric-Site-DE20] ++++ Glarus Alps, Switzerland [[/=]] [[/div]] Through the quiet corridors of a sector of Site-DE20, two agents walk silently, lost in their thoughts. @@ @@"What are you thinking about?" asks the athletic, red-haired woman. Her colleague with the angular features takes a moment to put his thoughts into words. @@ @@"How we met back then and how you asked me to leave our home." This is unexpected for his partner. @@ @@"Do you think it was a mistake?" @@ @@"Do you regret it?" @@ @@"I asked you first." They both remain silent. The small quarters for the staff, where researchers and agents can spend the night, come into view. The two slip into the room with the number plate 34 and the bunk bed. The man turns a switch button from the green field with Free to the red one with Occupied. @@ @@"I sleep upstairs!" says the woman, hopping briskly up the stairs - taking care not to touch the sheets with her work boots - and then throwing down her things from upstairs that might disturb her rest. The man almost demonstratively takes his time, but when he too has made himself comfortable, he sighs in relaxation. @@ @@"To your question: No," he answers, facing the wall. @@ @@„What do you mean, [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]][http://scp-int.wikidot.com/seltsame-dinge-geschehen-an-ruhigen-tagen-prolog Wolf][[/span]]?“ @@ @@„I just wanted to share that I don't regret it, [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]][http://scp-int.wikidot.com/seltsame-dinge-geschehen-an-ruhigen-tagen-prolog Fuchs][[/span]] that we left." Agent [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Wolf[[/span]] listens to the ensuing silence before hearing someone climb down and the bed crack barely audibly as another person lies down on it. [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Fuchs[[/span]] snuggles up against his back. @@ @@„I miss the others. [[[scp-1913 \|Agatha, Fredrick,]]] [[[SCP-2792 \|Sari,]]] [[[scp-2999 \|Suwaird,]]] and Maximiliane.“ [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Wolf[[/span]] turns around. He puts his arms around his friend as best he can in the now somewhat tighter space. @@ @@„Don't get me wrong. I just don't like it when you breathe down my neck or snot all over my uniform.“ [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Fuchs[[/span]] giggles and rubs her nose against one of his sleeves, knowing full well that he too was seeking comfort. They lie still for a minute before [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Wolf[[/span]] whispers: @@ @@„I don't want to ruin this touching moment, but the uniforms insulate really well.“ @@ @@„Yes, i feel hot too, but i didn't want to say anything.“ The two giggle. Again there is a moment of silence as they both lie on their backs looking at the underside of the bed. Then [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Fuchs[[/span]] becomes restless again. @@ @@"Do you actually trust me now, you know, after all these decades?" @@ @@"Of course I don't. You play tricks on me just like you did back then.“ [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Fuchs[[/span]] sulks, but she can't stay angry with her friend for long. @@ @@„But what has changed is that I can laugh along now." Then he pushed [[span style="font-family: 'Special Elite', serif;"]]Fuchs[[/span]] over the edge of the bed so that she fell onto the floor. They both laugh as they throw their pillows at each other. [[/==]] [[module CSS]] .outside { margin: 2em -6em; padding: 1em 10em; --narration-color: rgba(245, 245, 245, 1.4); background: var(--narration-color); background: linear-gradient(90deg, rgba(255,255,255,0) 5%, var(--narration-color) 10%, var(--narration-color) 90%, rgba(255,255,255,0) 95%); z-index: -2; } .outside.inline { margin: 1em -6em; padding: 1px 10em; } div#container-wrap::before { content: ""; position: absolute; width: 100%; height: 162px; background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component%3Atheme/body_bg.png") repeat-x; -webkit-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); } .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px} @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } div#header h1 a span { font-size: 0px; } div#header h1 a:before { content: "ㄗITCH 卄AVEN"; color: #eee; } div#header h2 span { font-size:0px; padding: 4px; } div#header h2:after { content: "Fables about Hate, Secrets, Love and Death"; font-weight: bold; color: #f0f0c0; padding: 19px 0; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, .8); white-space: pre; } #header { background-image: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/pitch-haven-hub/scp45.png) } span, a { word-break: normal !important } #extra-div-1 { position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 170px; pointer-events: none; background: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:theme/body_bg.png) top left repeat-x; -webkit-mask-image: linear-gradient(to left, rgba(0,0,0,1) 40%, rgba(0,0,0,0) 60%); mask-image: linear-gradient(to left, rgba(0,0,0,1) 40%, rgba(0,0,0,0) 60%); } /* reapplying sigma-9 styling / #top-bar ul li a::after,#top-bar ul li a::before{display:none}#search-top-box-input{border:solid 1px #999;border-radius:5px;color:#ccc;background-color:#300;box-shadow:inset 1px 1px 3px rgb(0 0 0 / 50%)}#search-top-box-form input[type=submit]{border:solid 1px #999;border-radius:5px;padding:2px 5px;font-size:90%;font-weight:700;color:#ccc;background-color:#633;background-image:linear-gradient(to bottom,#966,#633,#300);box-shadow:0 1px 3px rgb(0 0 0 / 50%)} [[/module]] [[module css]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Special+Elite'); [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== > Filename:* Govt_Logo.jpg > Author: [[user Fantem]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2746 SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: Standort-DE20_logo-400.png > Author: [[user Dr_Grom]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 > Source Link: [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel SCP Foundation Wiki] > Filename: baum.png > Name: Etz Chaim.svg > Author: FLLL, פֿינצטערניש. > License: CC BY-SA 4.0 > Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Etz_Chaim.svg Wikimedia Commons] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]]	2023-02-04T13:41:00	[ "_cc", "_de", "_licensebox", "international", "pitch-haven", "tale" ]	Two without Name and Title - SCP Foundation	10	[ "canon-hub", "pitch-haven-hub", "scp-2746", "scp-1913", "scp-2792", "scp-2999", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "archived:tales-by-date-2023" ]	[]	1445880266	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/zwei-ohne-namen-und-titel
43-nothing-happens	<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> <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>Nothing Happens</strong><br/> And it happens <em>everywhere.</em></p> <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 style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Nothing Happens</span></h1> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <img alt="Asterisk43.png" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png"/><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div> <div class="document"> <p>Advice is tyranny.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>— Julian "Fleetfoot" Ruggles, 1621</p> </div> </div> <p>What's the last thing you remember?</p> <p>Most people can tell you the <em>first</em> thing they remember… or rather, the thing that feels like the first. For Noè Nascimbeni, Chief of Janitorial and Maintenance at SCP Foundation Lake Huron Research and Containment Facility Site-43, it's the first time he tasted Sicilian gelato. For Harold Blank, Chair of Archives and Revision, it's playing with a pair of bright red plastic cones — he has no recollection of what they actually were — on his godmother's bed in Clarkson, Mississauga. Delfina Ibanez, Chief of Security and Containment (for now), remembers fireworks on the pier in her hidden Argentine village; she can still taste the gunpowder in the air, though she might be getting her wires crossed. Fire features prominently in many of her memories of Zevala. For the Site Director, Allan McInnis, his father shouting his uncle clear out of England is the earliest legible page. For Udo Okorie, Researcher in Applied Occultism, it's a hazy image of being held in her mother's arms on the beach at Blackpool, a toddler barely three years old. Nobody believes her when she says she can still sense the presence of all that sand, bleeding the sun's radiation back into the darkening sky, but she's nevertheless not imagining it. As for William Wettle, Deputy Chair of Replication Studies, well. He'll tell you something different every time you ask, and he'll mean it, too. He's like that.</p> <p>But for Lillian Lillihammer, Chair of Memetics and Countermemetics, the answer is eerie. Her earliest memory was once the cake her parents bought for her second birthday. It was caramel. She especially remembers the candles; she still has them socked away somewhere, but she wouldn't need the visual aid to call the scene to mind. It wasn't traumatic, it wasn't especially exciting, it was simply by random biological chance the first time her brain started committing things to the hippocampus, a good six months before most people's minds are up to the task of forging a permanent record. Today, though, the same request pulls an altogether different file. She remembers darkness, and warmth, and wet, and being a part of something greater than herself which flexed and shook and burbled beyond her control. She tries not to remember this very often, more because it's not useful than because it's unpleasant — though it is absolutely, definitely unpleasant. There are plenty of more valuable impressions to call upon, and her musing time is at a premium these days.</p> <p>Unlike everyone else at Site-43, Dr. Lillihammer can dredge up every instant she has ever lived through, every thought she's ever had, every emotion she's ever felt. This isn't a burden she's borne all her life; it first fell upon her on the eighth of September, 2002, when an esoteric waste disposal facility exploded and she had the misfortune to be standing too close. Before that, her experience of the past was merely eidetic, what they call 'total recall', which is really just very good photographic memory. Since the accident the operative term is 'hyperthymesia', amnesia's rare and evil twin.</p> <p>Lillian Lillihammer remembers everything.</p> <p>So she could tell you, if she deemed you the sort of person worth telling things to, what the first thing she remembers is, but she could also tell you the last thing. The last event, the last thought, the last piece of sensory data committed to her inviolable mental vault. Of course, her doing so would then become the new last thing she remembers, but Lillihammer is an irritable sort — she was irritable before the hyperthymesia, but it absolutely did not help — so she's unlikely to split those particular hairs. Because of the two questions, she considers the latter so very much more interesting. More instructive. More important.</p> <p>Because the last thing a person remembers is the last thing that meant something to them.</p> <p>The last thing that mattered.</p> <p>And the last thing that mattered, at least from her perspective — and her perspective on all things memory is by default the most informed — is a very special thing indeed.</p> <p>Because it's the last thing that truly <em>happened.</em></p> <p>Lillian Lillihammer has seen the final moments of the universe, a snapshot of the instant before apocalypse, twice since the Breach of 2002. The last thing that mattered to the entire surviving human race, up to the second at which they ceased at last to survive. She has reason to believe this will happen again, bearing witness to the fraying out of reality's ragged thread, four more times.</p> <p>The time after that, if there is one, if she and her six colleagues can't stop it from happening, will be the utmost end of meaning. The finality of memory.</p> <p>The last of the last of the things that matter.</p> <p>And she will be the last human standing, metaphorical camera metaphorically in hand, to document that final frame of cosmically vast failure. Before she, too, becomes nothing, because there will be nobody left to remember her.</p> <p>So, no pressure.</p> <img alt="TBGO.png" class="image" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/0-underture/TBGO.png"/> <div class="jandm"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #cc9900">1971</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-246">Site-246</a>: Lake Superior, United States of America</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>There was nothing, he was now convinced, that was any more dangerous than knowing what you wanted.</p> <p>Noè Nascimbeni stood in a marvel of engineering, the sort of thing he would have sworn just months ago could only exist in the most fanciful science fiction, and all he could think about was leaving. Returning to the subterranean playground he felt he'd only briefly glimpsed, though in actuality he'd spent a fortnight examining every piece of outrageous machinery and poring over every blueprint and data sheet made available by his new position. He'd barely scratched the surface of what the place was, and already his mind was consumed with the possibilities of what it could <em>become.</em> He wanted to go back, right now. He <em>needed</em> to go back.</p> <p>Because his life had changed so much so quickly that standing in a space one kilometre underground parsed as more fantastic than standing one kilometre underwater.</p> <p>He was in the submarine bay of a facility which nestled in its own filth on the floor of Lake Superior. As he checked his latest weld for the third time — he habitually checked things twice, but being underwater formed new, superlatively cautious habits — he realized he was no longer alone. A grizzled older man in a crisp, agnostic uniform was watching him go through the motions. Nascimbeni fought the urge to salute. He did that a lot; the Foundation wasn't particularly martial, but it did have a hierarchy, and most people he met were higher up it than he was. This man in particular seemed worthy of a quick show of respect. Something in his bearing.</p> <p>"You're a bit young for this post," the old man grunted.</p> <p>"Yes, sir." Nascimbeni returned the welder to its socket on the cart. "Just doing my rotation before starting at 43."</p> <p>"Ah. They're scaring you straight." The soldier — for obviously he had been one, might still be one now — nodded with a mirthless smile. "Do your best up there, or you'll end up down here."</p> <p>Nascimbeni shrugged. "I think this place is incredible."</p> <p>"It <em>is</em> incredible. It used to be fantastic. In a few more decades it'll just be amazing. I won't be here to see it. Be sure you aren't either."</p> <p>"I'll be at 43." His schemes and schematics momentarily obscured the other's craggy visage. "Hopefully for a good long while."</p> <p>"43," the old man mused. "The Catacombs. You're a little young for burial, too. Haven't you got a girlfriend?"</p> <p>Nascimbeni hoped he wasn't blushing. He probably was. "I do, sir."</p> <p>"And she isn't with the company?"</p> <p>He'd never heard the Foundation called that before. He wondered who the other man was. "No, sir, she isn't."</p> <p>"And you're welding backup sub doors instead of picnicking on the beach with her because…?"</p> <p>"Because there's work to do, sir."</p> <p>The old man grunted. "Piece of advice?"</p> <p>Nascimbeni spread his hands in a welcoming gesture.</p> <p>"There's always going to be work to do. Work never runs out. Time does."</p> <p>Unsure how else to respond, Nascimbeni simply nodded.</p> <p>"Good man."</p> <p>As the officer turned to walk away, Nascimbeni was gripped with the sudden urge to know who had so confidently chastised him for doing his job. He hadn't met anyone else at the 'company' who would have suggested prioritizing family over Foundation.</p> <p>"Sir? he called out. "I didn't get your name. "</p> <p>The old man didn't turn around, just kept on walking. His voice carried easily in the cavernous bay. "Don't be here long enough to need it."</p> </div> <div class="flashboss"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc2"><span><span style="color: #990099">1979</span></span></h1> <p><strong><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><span style="color: #990011">Outpost-211</span>: Lincolnshire, East Midlands, England, United Kingdom</span></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Communication, to Allan McInnis, meant transference. To transfer information. Facts, feelings, more ephemeral quanta. Viruses, even.</p> <p>People?</p> <p>If a person could be communicated, that was how he would describe his present assignment. Conveyed from facility to facility, learning how they lived and worked, floating between them like a mote of dust or a particle of disease. Translated on an axis from Point A to Point B to—</p> <p>A vigorous clap on his shoulder brought him of the reverie. "Internal monologue again? I thought your job was external dialogue." Obi Okorie, researcher in acroamatic abatement, sat down beside him at the picnic table.</p> <p>"Aren't all dialogues external?" Anjali Oparei, researcher in applied occultism, took a seat across the slats.</p> <p>"You tell me," the other man grinned at her. "You're the exorcist."</p> <p>McInnis looked from one to the other, gauging the extent to which they were absorbed in each other's company. He wasn't imagining the chemistry, though it was experientially foreign to him. They were rarely apart, as he'd had ample opportunity to observe; they'd adopted him just hours after his arrival at the Outpost, showing him around and familiarizing him — overfamiliarizing really — with the customary protocols and office politics of their little esoteric waste plant. Father and mother, though the three of them were nearly the same age.</p> <p>"Exorcist," Anjali repeated. She looked to McInnis for support. "You hearing this?"</p> <p>He nodded noncommittally. He was meant to lead them in a review of the Outpost's disciplinary files today, ready at hand in his valise under the table, but he'd quickly learned that these two needed to ground the electricity between them before they could get anything done. He suspected they weren't even aware that it was happening, and recognized the irony that he was the one to recognize it. He wondered whether Vivian Scout had intended micromanaging these little interactions as one element of his training; when the tour was over, he'd be joining Site-43's administrative oversight staff, and the real test of his insight into the squishy workings of the human brain would begin. Not only would he understand the breadth of the Foundation's personnel process by then, he'd have had ample practice in the trade of people-managing.</p> <p>"Allan knows when to keep mum," Obi laughed. "And never to meddle in the affairs of wizards."</p> <p>The moment seemed ripe for a team-building exercise. "Oh," McInnis nodded with a clueless little smile. "So you <em>are</em> having an affair. Congratulations!"</p> <p>Anjali's jaw dropped. Obi's dancing brows shot to the apex of their arc. The two of them made and broke eye contact enough times in the succeeding seconds to simulate a minute's worth of REM.</p> <p>Anjali was the first to recover. "Uh, did you bring the files?"</p> <p>"Of course." McInnis bent to retrieve his valise.</p> <p>"You know," Obi remarked as the locks clicked open and the dusty files were suddenly exposed to dull Midlands sunlight, "you really know how to force a segue. Ever consider the Director track?"</p> <p>The thought had crossed his mind. Leadership, to Allan McInnis, meant transference. To transfer authority, responsibility, blame. This made it, if not precisely synonymous, at least conceptually parallel to communication. He wondered whether the difference between the two things was very spacious.</p> <p>Perhaps, when he finally got back to Canada, he'd find out.</p> </div> <div class="flashdel"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc3"><span><span style="color: #2b5fb3">1994</span></span></h1> <p><strong><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><span style="color: #990011">Site-34</span>: Somewhere in Latin America</span></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p>For the first half hour or so, she beat the synthetic shit out of the dummy with her fists. It wasn't made of any material she'd ever touched before, but just a few punches told her it wouldn't split the skin of her knuckles, that the give was good, that it would provide her a righteous good time and the chance to demonstrate how much power she could pack into her tiny fists. When this didn't produce any measurable response from her observers — not that she was meant to know she was being observed, because whatever else these people might be, they were definitely big fans of seeming detached and mysterious — she gave her hands a rest and started kicking the inanimate thing to symbolic death. Maybe fifteen minutes of that and she was bored, so she kicked up her heels, inverted in midair, clapped her feet to the dummy's clavicle and snapped its neck with her thighs as she hung upside-down from its shoulders.</p> <p>The door opened, and she dropped to a perfect crouch. It helped that no part of her was ever very far from her centre of gravity.</p> <p>As though in belated realization, the dummy's head dropped off.</p> <p>"That was very impressive." It was Scout, of course, the only human being she'd seen since waking up in this strange new world. He looked just as old, tired, and weak as he had during the initial debriefing. "One wonders why you even needed the suit."</p> <p>It was the first time he'd mentioned the fact that she'd massacred the Chaos Insurgents occupying Zevala in an armored, weaponized shell an order of magnitude more advanced than any other piece of technology in the village. She could only assume that scientists and technicians were picking it apart and studying it as they spoke. "I didn't," she told him as she straightened the short distance between crouch and standing. "I could have gotten them all with my bare hands. The suit was just time management."</p> <p>He smiled wryly. It made his lips so thin, there was no visible blood left in them. "What would you have done then? If we hadn't arrived?"</p> <p>"Farm, I guess."</p> <p>"Is that what you'd like to do now? I'm sure I could find a co-op in need of a spare hand."</p> <p>She snorted. It felt too close to laughter, and deepened the pit in her stomach. "Lot of call for a four-foot farmer around here?"</p> <p>She threw out feelers like this from time to time in their brief conversations, and he never bit. She still had no idea where <em>around here</em> was, and he wasn't letting on. "Four foot soldiers are an equally scarce commodity," he remarked.</p> <p>"Yeah, funny thought, right?" She gestured at the headless dummy. "Think he'd be laughing, if he was real?"</p> <p>Scout removed his fedora and rubbed the thin grey hair beneath. "Delfina, you've suffered a great tragedy. You've also been through a strange, transformative experience which we do not yet fully understand. I was hoping you might be more forthcoming after you blew off some steam."</p> <p>She wondered if he could see the cold fury bubbling up inside of her. He made no move to retreat, but given his general equanimity, that wasn't saying much. "I thought you wanted to see what I can do, so I can do it for <em>you.</em> Whoever you are."</p> <p>His opaque spectacles dipped in acknowledgement. "You're certainly talented," he acknowledged. "And while I have serious qualms about drafting someone of your age into this conflict—"</p> <p>"—someone already beat you to it," she snapped.</p> <p>"—I must admit that it's impossible to restore you to your former station in life. There is no second Zevala. But I still have many questions about the first, because by rights, it should not have existed as it did."</p> <p>She gestured at the stark white room, by way of indicating the shadowy organization which had plucked her from the bay and imprisoned her. Which, for all she knew, had been an eager and equal partner in bringing death to her home. "And you guys should?"</p> <p>He glanced up at the ceiling, at the speaker embedded in the tiles, then at the mirrored wall she understood to be made of one-way glass. Then he looked at her again, and smiled even more grimly. "Up for debate. You might be involved in the final determination, some day. Of course, it will need to be an informed decision."</p> <p>"You want to swap life stories?" she spat.</p> <p>"Ours have converged," he sighed. "Perhaps we might get the narrative straight together?"</p> </div> <div class="flashyhammer"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc4"><span><span style="color: #c5000b">1995</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8888">Site-15</a>: Santa Clara Valley, California, United States of America</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Lyle wasn't a squeaker.</p> <p>He didn't squeak when he was afraid. He didn't squeak when he got kicked in the crotch — Eileen Veiksaar, his girlfriend, had demonstrated this to the proof standards of any scientific journal — and he didn't squeak when he was winded. It wasn't a sound he made. If he'd been turned into a mouse, he'd probably lose his well-worn powers of speech entirely.</p> <p>He was, nevertheless, squeaking now.</p> <p>It had started when he'd seen Site-15 from a distance. It was a massive cylindrical lighthouse in the middle of the woods, rotating on impossibly vast gimbals, looking like a minimalist Dalek redesign, surrounded by a field of shimmering energy within which he could espy a hexagonal matrix. He loved hexagonal matrices, and he loved gigantic technofortresses, though he'd only known the first one even existed before that moment. Then beside him on the helicopter's bench seat, Rudolph Marroquin had told him the glowing dome was called a <em>Faraday Hexfield,</em> and he had squeaked again. He'd pointed at pretty well everything they'd walked past so far: robotics labs, CRAY supercomputer banks, even the employee lounge with what looked like a truly obscene Super Nintendo setup next to an inexplicably flat-looking television the size of his truck. It wasn't that he was trying to squeak. He was trying to form words, and the excitement was strangling them in the womb.</p> <p>Eventually, Marroquin glanced back at him. Lyle was sure he was about to be told to shut up, but the hatchet-faced computer scientist merely smirked.</p> <p>Eileen was bringing up the rear. Lyle looked over his shoulder at her, fairly confident he could manage a normal sentence now that their circuitous (!) route had finally found a featureless corridor, and immediately noticed she was frowning. "What?"</p> <p>She stopped frowning. She didn't start smiling, but she looked the way she looked when she thought she had. "What?"</p> <p>He reached out and shoved her lightly in the fat of her upper right arm. The fat was tense, because her arms were crossed. "This has got to be the coolest place on the planet. You know, what with all the server fans."</p> <p>She nodded. "Uh huh."</p> <p>"How are you not more excited?" He couldn't stop himself from skipping as they rounded the next corner, and didn't really try. "We're in the money shot of a hacker's dream!" He had no idea how he was going to make it through the orientation seminars Marroquin had signed him up for. He couldn't imagine how they'd be able to tear him away from his technoorgasmia and haul him back to dull and dreary Canada; he'd seen the machines they had at Site-43, and there was no polite comparison to be made.</p> <p>"I've been here before." She pointed at a set of glass double doors; the letters <em>AIAD</em> were mounted over the lintel in a <em>sans serif</em> font, with no further explication in evidence. "This is my exit."</p> <p>Marroquin stopped walking, and gave her a look of appraisal with semantics Lyle couldn't quite read. For a moment, he wondered whether his new boss was having sex with his girlfriend; then Eileen shivered, despite the warm wool of her technician's hoodie, and he knew they were on the same page about Marroquin. He gave them both the creeps.</p> <p>The thought was not as much relief as it should have been.</p> <p>"Fine," Marroquin said finally. "But meet us back at the dorms when you're done. There's a primer on FortWAN I expect you to attend this evening."</p> <p>She nodded. Marroquin and Lyle moved forward again, and Eileen broke off. Was it just his imagination, or did some of his spring come into her step as she passed through the first portal?</p> <p>He probably would have lingered on the thought a little longer, if the next turn hadn't brought them in view of the main server hall. Half his imagination and fully two thirds of his ambition could have fit snugly within, side by side.</p> </div> <div class="flashblank"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc5"><span><span style="color: #669933">1996</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-12">Site-12</a>: South Brent, Dartmoor, England, United Kingdom</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>It didn't seem precisely fair to Harold Blank that he should have to pass another examination.</p> <p>One of the best things about defending your doctoral thesis was the knowledge that finally, after decades of tightly-timed torture, you had reached the end of exams. And defence itself was more of a conversation between colleagues; once you'd gotten that far, everyone involved was far too invested in your success to try and catch you out. His comprehensive exams or "comps" had been much the same, minus the part where he'd been expected to be able to converse intelligently on any item from a list of papers and monographs so lengthy that there were enough for every day of the year, with a few more months to spare. The last really difficult test he'd taken was to prove he could read French with the aid of a dictionary, and to his shock and shame, the time limit had triggered a panic attack and he'd ended up throwing the paper out rather than handing it in. He'd been forced to take a month-long course as an alternative qualification. That had taught him something about himself: he was done being mindful of such mundane concerns as the time of day and how quickly it changed. From that moment on he resolved to set his own schedule, sleep when he wanted, eat when he wanted, and work on what he wanted to work on. His comps fields. His dissertation. They were defined by his decisions.</p> <p>And yet somehow, despite the fact that it had turned out his dissertation committee members all worked for the SCP Foundation, despite the fact that his supervisor had been actively recruiting him, despite the fact that he'd even managed to sneak a little anomalous history into his work, now that he was starting at Archives and Revision he was expected to take another goddamn test.</p> <p>So here he was, deep in the bowels of Site-12's library, the bailiwick of the Foundation's Department of History, burning through yet another reading list. He wouldn't be expected to write another thesis or take any courses, but he <em>did</em> have to pass another exam, a sort of compensatory comps to make up for the fact that he'd never read anything of the annals on the other side of the Veil of Normalcy. They called them the Supplementary Exams, or 'sups'. Today he was supping on accounts of all six Occult Wars. Yesterday he'd examined the secret history of the Global Occult Coalition. Tomorrow he'd be looking into the various national Foundation precursors. It was — and this was astonishing — actually kind of tedious.</p> <p>He wanted to be back at Site-43. He wanted to gush at his best friend about the insanity of their new job. He wanted to flirt with his best friend's girlfriend. He wanted to find out if <em>Titanic</em> really had been sunk by a reality-bending novelist.</p> <p>"It's been a while," a woman's voice cut through his self-absorption, "but I don't remember McNally on <em>Obskurakorps</em> being all that engrossing."</p> <p>Judith Low was standing at the end of the stacks. She was one of the department's senior researchers, and in charge of the Site-71 leg of his paracademic journey. He closed the book and nodded at her. "Yeah, he kinda sucks. Bad writer."</p> <p>"Most academics are. And we have a smaller sample size, so we're lucky if any of the talented ones are aligned with our interests. But," and she approached him in the middle of the aisle, "you're not really meant to be having fun with this. You're meant to get as much of it in your head as possible, and move on."</p> <p>He frowned. "Shouldn't I be trying to pass with flying colours?"</p> <p>"No, you should be trying to be <em>done.</em> Jump through the hoops, then start doing your own work. Advance our knowledge, and your career."</p> <p>He leaned on the nearest shelf. "What if there's something in here I need to know, some day, and I <em>don't</em> know it, because I rushed through?"</p> <p>"There will be, and you can't change that fact. You can't know everything. You can't prepare forever. Eventually you need to accept that things will never be fully perfect, and you have to meet reality with whatever preparation you already have." She gestured down the endless row of stacks. "If you expect us to test you on every book down here, I hope you've got some means of living forever."</p> <p>He placed the book in his backpack. "Point taken."</p> <p>She gave him a strange look. "Was it?" She pointed at the bag. "You were meant to take your sups last week. I'm not going to quiz you on McNally's footnotes, you know."</p> <p>He fought the urge to wince. "I just want to make sure I know the arguments, is all."</p> <p>She turned around, bent down, and returned to standing with a slim volume printed on larger paper. "There's a book review in here. Read that instead. I'm scheduling you for tomorrow, Harry."</p> <p>He did wince. "I just don't think I'm ready."</p> <p>"Good." She took the bag out of his hands, returned <em>The Audacity of Konrad Weiss</em> to the shelf, and slid the journal in before pushing it into his arms again. "You'll want to get used to that feeling."</p> </div> <div class="flashwet"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc6"><span><span style="color: #6666ff">1997</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-333">Site-333</a>: Atlantic City, New Jersey, United States of America</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>It wasn't like being called to the principal's office. Even if they wouldn't admit it, most high schoolers held the principal in something like awe. They recognized that authority, whether they respected it or not, was respected by society and could meaningfully impact their lives. They knew the principal had authority because people with even more authority trusted their judgment and discretion.</p> <p>It wasn't like being called to the principal's office at all.</p> <p>"Bilbo." Vincent Bohart, Director of Site-333, tucked his cheap tie against his cheap shirt as he sat down behind his cheap desk. "I hope the hairs on your feet are standing up right now, because you are walking in the <em>shit.</em>"</p> <p>William Wettle made no effort to disentangle the nickname, the reference, or the metaphor. Half of what Bohart said was for Bohart's own benefit. He simply blinked.</p> <p>The balding administrator picked up a file that was probably Wettle's, though neither of them would know until he started reading it. If it had been left there while Wettle waited as a test, well. It wouldn't be the first time someone had overestimated his initiative.</p> <p>Bohart scanned the whole thing while Wettle sat there, because he didn't respect anyone's time. This was fair; nobody was assigned to 333 if their time was worth respecting. He grunted a few times, his eyes widened twice (so that briefly he almost looked awake), and once he chuckled so dryly that he actually noticed how dry it sounded and took a sip of coffee from a mug that hadn't moved in at least two days, so that he could finish the chuckle wetly. It didn't improve the sour look on his face. Finally he dropped the papers and fixed Wettle with a bleary, constipated stare. "You," he said slowly, the drama totally lost on his audience, "are a fuckup."</p> <p>Wettle had been told this in far more intimate situations. It barely registered as an insult.</p> <p>"Your closure rate is the worst on your team. You've damaged enough company property to wipe out your own salary if we held it against you." Wettle didn't read body language well, but he instinctively understood Bohart enough to know why that item put a gleam in the other man's eye. "You score below par on every performance metric, even the ones we made up specifically so our people could pass one or two. You're the subject of what might be the only class action HR complaint in human history. You've been stealing potato chips from me."</p> <p>Wettle bristled behind his bristly beard. "I have not! That wasn't me! But I should have. They're always stale!" Bohart bought junk food in bulk at bargain bin prices and set up a till in the breakroom for honor system payments. Everyone knew perfectly well, even without knowing precisely where, that there was a camera fixed on the register.</p> <p>Bohart brushed it off. "Just testing. I know you haven't got the imagination to jostle the coins and pretend. But at least that would tell me you've got a functioning brain, man. You haven't achieved a single thing since you started here. You're bringing the place down, and that's not an easy thing to do."</p> <p>"Are you firing me?"</p> <p>"Not as long as I can expense the damage you do. We're getting some fancy new equipment, and everyone thinks I'm a genius for bringing you in to 'accidentally' break the old stuff. Don't disillusion them, and I'll keep signing your cheques. But Billybob," and a wholly foreign expression came over Bohart's face, seemingly foreign to Bohart himself, "don't you ever, uh, want to actually amount to anything? Don't you want to be good at something? Anything? At all?"</p> <p>Wettle considered this for a moment. A moment too long. When he no longer fully remembered what the question had been, he tried to cover with a placid, empty smile.</p> <p>Bohart smiled back so emptily that his teeth retreated from his lips. "Go break something," he said, and then he retched into his waste paper bin.</p> </div> <div class="udoflashback"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc7"><span><span style="color: #ff950e">1998</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hecatoncheires-cycle-hub">Site-91</a>: Yorkshire, England, United Kingdom</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>The package of emotions was full, arrived without warning, and burst open all at once. Confusion, indignance, shame, anger, embarrassment. On the face of things the unassuming woman who sat down beside her on the bench was an absurd trigger for a personal cataclysm, and even as it played out over her own guileless face, Udo Okorie recognized this.</p> <p><em>Confusion.</em> The woman was Iona Varga, Director of Site-91. She had never come to the little garden behind the Georgian manor to sit with Udo before. Why would she? No trainee merited such a response from a woman with so many more pressing responsibilities. And no-one but Udo's mother knew she was out here…</p> <p><em>Indignance</em>, unexamined as it set the shape of her jaw, because Varga began to speak. "Are you alone by choice, miss Okorie?"</p> <p>Udo shrugged. It felt vaguely insubordinate, and she immediately regretted it. The moment it took her to consider her response was enough to recognize why she was indignant: her mother had sent the Site Director after her. The <em>Site Director.</em> "I'm not very good company right now, ma'am."</p> <p>Varga nodded. "It can feel like an act of charity to remove yourself from the presence of others, when that happens. More often than not, though, it makes whatever is wrong much worse."</p> <p><em>Shame.</em> Her mother had sent the Site Director to <em>lecture</em> her. The immature, disappointing prodigy who would never do what she was told. "I wasn't being charitable. I'm not feeling charitable about her right now." This line of conversation did nothing to alleviate the sense of nervous guilt.</p> <p>Varga raised an eyebrow. "Her?"</p> <p><em>Anger.</em> Was she supposed to pretend this was anything but a dressing-down for her behaviour? Was she expected to endure the older woman's judgement <em>and</em> maintain the fiction that it was only being levelled casually, by chance, friendly advice on a sunny day? "My mother. We fought. I'm assuming…" She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. The emotions were not sequential; anger rose, but shame still ruled.</p> <p>Varga seemed to hear the missing words anyway. "Perhaps I'm simply observant. You're not the least memorable of your cohort, and I have some experience with…" Now it was her turn to trail off, glancing down at the bench, then up at the manor with an expression Udo couldn't read. Truth be told, she couldn't read most expressions.</p> <p><em>Embarrassment.</em> This was turning both awkward and maudlin. Varga was only trying to help, whatever had impelled her here to begin with. "Thank you for asking, ma'am. I appreciate it. I just needed to get some fresh air for a change."</p> <p>Varga tugged at the collar of her plain grey sweater. "That's a good instinct. Biologically rooted. Your body wants an exchange of bad inputs for good. Keeps things from going all muggy inside. Lets you see more clearly."</p> <p>A new emotion. <em>Uncertainty.</em> Something was obviously meant by these musings, but Udo couldn't tell what. "I see pretty clearly, I think. Even with the glasses."</p> <p>Varga looked through the lenses at her. The younger woman's flashing orange eyes — she could never control the inner light when she became emotional — were reflected in the older's dark brown. "I should hope so. I should hope you can see through your own deceptions."</p> <p><em>Ruefulness.</em> The glasses served only to occlude that amber glow. "Deception is a strong word. Sometimes I just don't want people to notice things."</p> <p>Varga smiled. It parsed as more of a frown. "Another act of mistaken charity. It's better to share your burdens, when you can, and your gifts as well."</p> <p>Udo sighed. She didn't know what emotions she was feeling now. "I'm not very good at that kind of perspective."</p> <p>The Director stood. "The beauty of perspective," she said, looking at Udo sitting on the bench but not, perhaps, precisely seeing her, "is that it changes when you move."</p> </div> <div class="jandm"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc8"><span><span style="color: #cc9900">1999</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>The wave of wires parted, and a pudgy face smudged with black rubber marks emerged. "What?"</p> <p>Romolo Ambrogi tapped David Markey's upturned nose with the tip of his screwdriver. "You've been in there for an hour, man. We need help out here."</p> <p>Markey squinted over Ambrogi's shoulder. The new hires were hefting big cardboard boxes full of floor and wall tiles, or else bent over double to grout them in place; the new Inter-Sectional Subway station at Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-D was the finishing touch on the facility's top-down revamp. "Looks pretty much under control from where I'm standing. And, you know. Bad knees."</p> <p>"No," Ambrogi said. "I do not know. Explain it to me again. I want to see what version you use."</p> <p>Markey somehow managed to look offended. "I would never lie to the Deputy Chief of Jerking and Moaning. I'm too professional for that."</p> <p>Watching them from the ticket booth, only half glassed-in so far, Nascimbeni found himself smiling. He should probably have done something about the skiving, and the jibes. Probably some day he would.</p> <p>One of the green technicians, a baby-faced man named Azad Banerjee, approached the pair from the turnstiles. He was pushing a heavy tool cart in front of him. "Boss wants to know when we'll be ready to start up the electrics." Banerjee, at least, was performing with something like alacrity. He had a future here.</p> <p>For some reason, Nascimbeni suddenly remembered finishing a weld on the redundant sub doors at Site-246. It was enough of a <em>non-sequitur</em> that he dismissed it, dividing his attention instead between the inspection report he was filling out and the casual altercation across the way.</p> <p>Markey pointed at Ambrogi with his nose, his arms hidden somewhere in the tangle of cables they would shortly be blocking up behind yet another concrete and tile wall. "Depends on the foreman here, and whether he thinks of something better to do than micromanage my hard work."</p> <p>"Your hard work." Ambrogi plucked at the twist-on wire connectors closest to hand, clearly hoping against hope to find something wrong with them. Of course, there wasn't. One of Markey's worst qualities was being good at things that let him set his own pace, and avoid heavy lifting. "Can you give me an estimate of how much longer your hard work will take?"</p> <p>The old sluggard pretended to calculate. "Depends. When will the tiling be done out there?"</p> <p>Nascimbeni knew the desire to lie was strong, but there was no way to justify providing bad information. If anything, anything at all went wrong in the near vicinity of the Site's most advanced waste processing facility, the shit that hit its fans would stick to everyone in their little underground community, and no amount of showering would ever fully clean it off. He briefly made eye contact with his deputy, and saw the resignation on the younger man's face as he realized how this would inevitably end. "About two hours," Ambrogi said. "We'll need to stop for the day before they amp up the outflow conduits, because that'll crank the humidity too high for the grout to set."</p> <p>Markey nodded, and disappeared into the partition as he delivered his response: "Should be about two hours, then."</p> <p>Ambrogi shook his head.</p> <p>"Probably an hour and fifty minutes," Banerjee remarked as he walked past the booth again, cart now in tow. "So he has time to grab a coffee, then wander over and tell us we did the tiling wrong."</p> <p>Nascimbeni almost laughed. Instead, he said "You can talk shit about Markey when you're half the electrician he is."</p> <p>"From what I can see, boss, he's not gonna put up much competition."</p> </div> <div class="flashblank"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc9"><span><span style="color: #669933">2000</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>"Surely, Dr. Blank, you have <em>evidence</em> for such an outrageous claim."</p> <p>Harry snorted softly. "Dr. Bradbury, every account of this man's life is a wealth of such evidence. Look here." He pushed a little yellow sheaf across the workgroup desk. "In the private papers. He says he was visited by 'an emissary of the stars', who convinced him to change his ways. A 'creature of perfect liberty'. He says it spoke to him in every language of mankind, and even when he didn't understand the words, he grokked the meaning."</p> <p>"Grok," Melissa Bradbury croaked as she paged through the papers. "Grok."</p> <p>"And the very next day, doctor," Harry continued, suppressing a smile, "he changed his name to Amor de Cosmos." <em>Lover of the universe.</em> "British Columbia's Father of Confederation had some sort of alien or otherwise anomalous visitation, and it left him touched. He was never quite sane again."</p> <p>"Okay, doctor," Melissa nodded, dropping the sheaf and shoving a small binder in his direction, "but if a little grey man made him love the universe, and freedom, and all those good things, how come he fought against indigenous land grants?"</p> <p>"Maybe his human mind wasn't ready for the force that touched it, <em>doctor.</em> Maybe," and he paused for a moment as Melissa picked up her remaining research materials and walked around the table towards him, "maybe it drove him insane. You know he was terrified of electricity, burst into tears for no reason, <em>changed his name to Amor de Cosmos</em>…"</p> <p>She sat down beside him, dropping the files between them in a heap on the table. "Don't you think it's more likely, <em>doctor,</em> that he was just racist, like pretty much all the other Fathers of Confederation? And that this might conflict with your theory that some entity of universal peace and love," she approximated Ringo Starr's accent, and this time he had no choice but to smile, "made him into its prophet?"</p> <p>Harry reached in front of her to snatch up the topmost file. "I'm convinced, <em>dear,</em>" and he began speaking more quickly, both to cover up the change in terminology and avoid considering whether or not it had been intentional, "that everything in here points to a man converted to the cause of human liberty by an esoteric intervention."</p> <p>Melissa reached out and flicked him in the forehead. "If that were the case, <em>dear,</em> you would think we'd see evidence of further visitations in the historical record. But this is only the first."</p> <p>"Exactly, <em>dear,</em> it's only the first. That's how patterns work. One single, unlikely outlier at the outset, because you can't skip right to having multiple data points. You understand the concept of linear progression, <em>dear?</em>"</p> <p>"Double dear," she mused. "Oh dear, he's getting defensive." The look on her face was…</p> <p>He stood up. "Told Eileen I'd meet her for lunch." He didn't even look at his watch; he knew it was half past eleven at best.</p> <p>Melissa smiled as though all of this were completely normal and natural. "Tell her I said hello. She ignores me when I do it myself."</p> <p>He nodded, refusing to think about that too deeply, either. "Okay. See you in an hour."</p> <p>She nodded back, flipped open a folio, and started reading. He could see the relaxation of posture that signified her signature drifting off into contemplative space. "Bring me back a granola bar."</p> <p>"I will," he said, and as he reached the door, he chanced to finish the promise with a final, pointed "<em>dear.</em>"</p> </div> <div class="flashyhammer"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc10"><span><span style="color: #c5000b">2001</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/antimemetics-division-hub">Site-41</a>: Central Colorado, United States of America</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Lillian didn't notice it immediately.</p> <p>There were many things wrong with Site-41, and they divided her attention into so many fragments that she barely heard the guard's instructions as he tried to ferry her toward her contact's office. There was something wrong with the foyer. There was something wrong with the elevator. There was something wrong with several of the people she passed as they moved deeper into the facility. There was something wrong with the ways in which these things were wrong, because she couldn't drill down to anything like specificity in any single case. That spot over there was wrong, and that spot over there as well. At one point she stepped over nothing as though it were something, and the guard looked at her like she was crazy, and she wondered if perhaps she was.</p> <p>But she noticed <em>it,</em> the first thing that was wrong which she could point to, point <em>at,</em> which she did point at, just before they arrived at their destination. Indicating the mass of black towering above the distant trees with her long index finger, she said: "Where did that come from?"</p> <p>The guard replied: "Prefab, like all the other windows. This is her office here, ma'am."</p> <p>Torn between irritation and admiration — most guards wouldn't have turned a misunderstanding into a passable joke, but she really would have preferred an actual response — she waved the man away. "Awesome. Thanks. Goodbye."</p> <p>She didn't get the chance to knock on the door, because it opened before the guard was out of sight. A petite woman with wild black hair emerged from the office; Lillian could easily see its contents over her head, and they suggested both an orderly mind and a lack of sentimentality. A good start.</p> <p>The little agent extended a hand. "Marion Wheeler."</p> <p>Lillian enveloped it in her own. "The one that got away." She paused. "Me, that is. That's who I am."</p> <p>Wheeler blinked. "Our loss, I'm sure. Could we do this on the way to the commissary, or is it sensitive? I need a coffee soon, or I'll need a cigarette later."</p> <p>"Suits me." Lillian started heading back toward the entrance; she'd seen enough of the signage to know which way they were headed. She pointed over Wheeler's head at the obelisk, still insisting on existing out the window, and asked: "What's that?"</p> <p>Wheeler looked impressed. "That's something you shouldn't be able to see unless you've worked here for a long time, or you're on drugs we haven't cleared for general use."</p> <p>"Hooray for me. You seem like the sort to read a person's file when they ask for a meeting, so you probably know what my deal is."</p> <p>"Yes, I understand you have an eidetic memory, but that shouldn't be sufficient. We should run a few tests before you leave, I'd be interested to see what's going on with your brain chemistry."</p> <p>They turned a corner, and the tower vanished. She fancied she could still sense the outline of where it stood, but that was probably… <em>true, actually. Weird things don't follow normal rules.</em> "I like how you keep ending your parts of the conversation without answering my question."</p> <p>"It's a tombstone for an entire race of beings," Wheeler explained, as though she were describing the purpose of a cubicle block. "We could take a walk out there, if you'd like more privacy for this conversation."</p> <p>Lillian shook her head. "One mystery at a time, and that one seems pretty stationary. Let's talk about the one I brought with me. Do you know a memeticist by the name of Bernabé Del Olmo?"</p> <p>Wheeler stopped walking. Lillian stopped a moment later, so she could step in front of the smaller woman and look down her nose at her. Wheeler wrinkled her own nose, sighed, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her suit pocket. "So much for the commissary. We really are going to need that privacy."</p> </div> <div class="generic"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc11"><span><span style="color: #5d5d5d">2002</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>LeClair smiled wistfully as she passed her penlight from pupil to pupil. "I remember social studies. It was fun! I made up a diorama of the Battle of the Somme." She chuckled. "The official version, anyway."</p> <p>"Emilié." Helena Forsythe kept her voice low, low enough that hopefully her daughter wouldn't hear it. She was standing behind LeClair as the latter finished up the examination.</p> <p>The doctor glanced back at her, blinking in confusion, before suddenly appearing to realize her <em>faux pas.</em> It wasn't accepted procedure to allude to the existence of the Occult Wars in front of a ten-year-old civilian. Her presence within the Site was already the result of questionable decision making, and the more potential questions there were, the higher the odds that someone would start asking.</p> <p>Luckily, in a sense, Billie wasn't even listening. She was sitting on the examination table with her arms crossed and her lips in a perpetual pout. In combination with her mother's gnarly nose, it made her look like an angry gremlin.</p> <p>"Anyway," LeClair smiled, an extra flush of enthusiasm in her bedside measure pasting over the momentary gaffe, "I don't think it's anything neurological. Your first instincts were probably correct, but it didn't hurt to bring her in."</p> <p>In truth, LeClair was probably getting a little fed up with having to examine her head nurse's daughter every few weeks. But Helena didn't trust her own instincts, no matter how often they were talked up by her mentor, and she trusted the doctors in Grand Bend even less. They only knew what the Foundation allowed them to know about the practice of medicine. LeClair had access to anomalous technologies, techniques, and diagnoses that could make the difference between catching something early and catching it after the point of no recourse.</p> <p>Helena knelt in front of her daughter, not bothering to attempt eye contact since she knew it wouldn't be forthcoming. "I'm going to talk to your aunt for a moment outside, okay? Be good while we're gone."</p> <p>By way of response, Billie reached into her hooded sweatshirt and produced her fancy pearlescent Game Boy. Helena had put in enough argument time to know that the volume would be dialled down, so she took LeClair by the shoulder and moved them both out of the examination room and into the halls of Health and Pathology.</p> <p>LeClair spoke first, as she usually did. "She's a child, Lena. Children misbehave."</p> <p>"She doesn't have any friends. Her grades are terrible. She won't talk to me about anything. All she does is sulk."</p> <p>LeClair nodded. "Yes, she does sound like a normal, healthy teenager." Seeing the look on Helena's face, LeClair held her by the shoulders of her surgical scrubs and squeezed. "I understand why you're worried. You're a good mother. But she's going to turn out just fine. How soon does she graduate?"</p> <p>There was a moment's pause, during which LeClair's eyes unfocused, refocused, and settled into a squint over the deep bags below them. She outraced Helena's baffled response by mere moments. "No, I know, she's only ten years old. It's been a long day. Shift's almost over. I'll check the recording, make sure we didn't say anything we'd need to Class-A, and we can give her the transit drugs so you can take her home."</p> <p>The pit that opened up in Forsythe's gut prevented an immediate response, and LeClair took the opportunity to slip through the door to the hidden observation room. It was probably just as well; given the older woman's peaked condition, it would have been aggressively impolite to remind her that Class-A amnestics interacted violently with Billie's asthma. It was just exhaustion talking. Obviously she remembered.</p> </div> <div class="flashboss"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc12"><span><span style="color: #990099">2003</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>He was too much the HR man to ever do such a thing — physical contact in the workplace was almost never remotely acceptable — and the world's most metaphorically dense pane of glass prevented it anyway, but it was nevertheless difficult not to want to hug Ilse Reynders right now. Allan McInnis was not a tall man, but it would be easy (were it not impossible) to envelop those narrow shoulders in his arms and provide some manner of comfort to the quivering mess which was, simultaneously, the most outrageously intelligent person he had ever known. He wondered if his own antipathy to physical contact would have changed if he'd been deprived of the opportunity for sixty years and counting.</p> <p>Ilse was doing what she did when the distance between her prison and the outside world seemed particularly vast, both hands pressed up against the glass. He mirrored the gesture; when action is impossible, any good administrator knows that symbolism is vital. The sensors on his side of the Anomalous Documents Disposal Chamber picked up the minute vibrations in the glass, and the overhead speakers relayed what she was saying with near-crystal clarity. She would hear his responses as a muffled mumbling, and there was nothing anyone could do about that at all, not even symbolically.</p> <p>"She just left," Ilse was saying. There were thick bags under her eyes. They waxed and waned as the day went on, as the stress of what she was seeing drove her to distraction and the homeostasis of her counterchronological cell reverted the flesh to baseline in an endless cycle. "We're going to turn AAF-A into a supercomputer, so we can hack the comms relays."</p> <p>McInnis nodded. Ilse had been relaying information of this flavour for days, explaining how Udo Okorie, Imrich Sýkora and Brenda Corbin were conducting a resistance operation against a hostile force occupying Site-43's only topside structure. She talked about faceless men and women formed out of glowing oil, mind-wiped personnel staggering about aimlessly like satiated zombies, and a force that battered on the doors of consciousness until it found one unlocked, and invaded the seat of reason. She talked about watching helplessly from behind the glass as everyone who worked in Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-A either went insane or was murdered, about the massive wave from Lake Huron which had weakened the building's foundations and collapsed much of the access to her chamber, about a wide variety of things which of course had not actually happened, and she could not actually be seeing.</p> <p>The problem was, she wasn't crazy.</p> <p>He'd had the psych people on Ilse's case from the start. They already monitored her regularly, since her mental state was sensitive to even minor shifts in fortune by this phase of her long, strange life, but now she was being watched around the clock. She understood where she was. She remembered <em>who</em> she was, and who everyone else was as well. If someone walked up to her window, she would speak with them. If she was asked questions, she would answer. She was still performing her assigned duties, calling out instructions from behind the glass, requesting access to academic journals or having researchers type queries into the SCP database for her. But at the same time all of this was happening, she was watching an entirely different drama unfold, and reacting as though she were a part of it. As much as she was a part of the world McInnis could see and hear, anyway. Two worlds, and she couldn't touch either of them.</p> <p>She dropped her hands to her sides, and smiled manically up at him.</p> <p>For the first few days, she'd bloodied her head against the glass in a manic frenzy. She was calmer now, a month after the onset, but no less harried by the counterapocalyptic visions.</p> <p>It was at least comforting that in this putative alternate reality, their side seemed to be winning.</p> <p>He only wished he could say the same about baseline.</p> </div> <div class="udoflashback"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc13"><span><span style="color: #ff950e">2004</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>"It's a very good likeness." Dr. Daniel Asheworth, thaumaturge and co-Director of Site-120, paced around the sandy red simulacrum of his form with a look somewhere between awe and discomfort on his face. "Is it breathing?" He pressed a hand to the sand-man's chest, and smiled. "It <em>is</em> breathing. I suspect that's your breathing?"</p> <p>Across the room, Udo made eye contact with Asheworth and theatrically held her breath. She even ballooned her cheeks out. Asheworth's hand continued to track the respiration of the golem she had made. He actually laughed out loud, then clapped his hands together in appreciation. "That's amazing. Really very good work."</p> <p>Udo was standing at one end of the antiseptic containment chamber, her notes and reagents pouch on a small rolling table to her left. The effigy and the original of Asheworth stood together in the centre of the room, and her dissertation committee sat behind their table at the far end: Adrijan Zlatá and Stacey Laiken. The intervening space was filled with a gauzy red shroud, a filter of particulate matter which represented for Udo a fifty-fifty blend of scientific and magical thinking. She would argue this was to ensure complete control over her creation, if anyone asked; really, it just was a way of feeling she had control over her dissertation defence. From a certain point of view — hers — she <em>was</em> the room. Everyone else was just occupying it. Inside of her.</p> <p>This reminded her rather forcefully of certain regrettable workplace pursuits, and she flushed furiously. The effigy did not react. She had learned a great deal about focus over the last few years.</p> <p>Asheworth pulled a pair of rune-laced gloves from his coat pocket, and put them on. He pressed his hands against the golem's forehead and the ribcage over its heart, and said: "I am going to try and take control, with your permission. You may withhold permission, and we will find another way to test this, but—"</p> <p>"You have my permission," she said. The golem's lips didn't move. She pursed hers, and added impishly: "Good luck."</p> <p>Asheworth smiled, pressed harder, and closed his eyes. The runes on the glove flashed, and</p> <p><em>she was weeping, inconsolable, over a body rapidly drained of life. Brown eyes looked up at her, innocent, loving, filled with pain. She knew what she was going to do, and she knew that she shouldn't, but</em></p> <p><em>she was kneeling in a vast hemispherical chamber, gloves pressed to the floor, runes dancing madly as a spear of brilliant orange, <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">the colour of her eyes</span>, formed beneath her hands, and she</em></p> <p><em>stood accused by a kangaroo court of things she had not done, could not have done, and at what was to be the final moment of her life, the snuffing of her flame, against all sense and reason she</em></p> <p><em>stood at the precipice, the task incomplete, and knew that <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">he</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">he</span> <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">he</span> she could do what needed to be done, but nothing needed to be done at all,</em></p> <p>because she was not Daniel Asheworth and these memories were not hers. The golem hadn't moved an inch; in her rush of triumph, she made it grin. Asheworth's face showed the strain of his concerted efforts to wrest it from her control. He relaxed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and grinned back at himself with genuine pleasure, then at her.</p> <p>"That," he said, "was magnificent." He tapped the golem's forehead. "That's my brain, mapped precisely in every detail, and still you kept me out of it. I judge your project a complete success."</p> <p>Laiken's smile was like cotton candy in the sun as she heard the external examiner's verdict. Zlatá didn't really react, though the fact that he stood up was for him the equivalent of leaping up and down, and he approached the golem at a slow and steady gait. "One final test," he said, and as he neared the centre of the room Udo felt momentarily ill at ease. "Please keep the effigy intact for as long as you can." He reached down to fiddle with the watch on his wrist.</p> <p>He stepped between her and the self that was neither her nor Asheworth, the Polish thaumaturge watching his Croatian counterpart curiously, and when her line of sight was blocked she gasped, and shook, and cried out in shock as her skin broke out in goose pimples, and an endless age later the thing exploded in a cloud of red sand.</p> <p>Zlatá pressed his watch again, and raised the dial up to his bleary, squinting eyes. "Six seconds," he remarked evenly. "Remarkable. Congratulations indeed, Dr. Okorie."</p> </div> <div class="flashwet"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc14"><span><span style="color: #6666ff">2005</span></span></h1> <p><strong><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><span style="color: #990011">Interstate 10</span>: Outside Pensacola, Florida, United States of America</span></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p>No matter which way he turned the dial, he couldn't seem to change the channel.</p> <p>Wettle knew he shouldn't mess with the radio while he was behind the wheel, but whatever this show was, it was driving him to distracted driving. It was some sort of game show, but he couldn't understand what the host was talking about, and there didn't seem to be any players. As he cranked the dial to the left, the host catcalled: "You're terrible at this! Absolutely terrible! My producer told me you have a PhD. Was she lying to me? Jerry, get her on the horn. I want to know if she was lying to me about this idiot's PhD." As he cranked the dial to the right, a female voice chimed in: "I wasn't lying, Jeremy. He's got degrees in history and chemistry, if you can believe it." The host, apparently Jeremy, laughed like a sick donkey at this information. "Chemistry?! You'd never know it, looking at <em>his</em> love life. And let me tell you, we've been looking. Jerry, can you call up the—"</p> <p>Wettle smacked the radio, managing to catch the power button in the dark by pure and uncommon good luck. The merciful silence, a fair trade for the sudden flare of pain from his knuckle, lasted maybe five seconds before a voice spoke directly into the hairs of his neck: "They're not wrong about your love life."</p> <p>There was construction ahead on the I-10, because of course there was, so when Wettle swerved madly off the road and onto the unpaved shoulder, he did so at merely ten (god-fearing and Customary) miles per hour, gliding to a stop without disrupting the night-time traffic by a single Toyota. He spun in his seat, wrenching shoulder and neck very badly and tangling his seatbelt up around his neck, and managed a choking half-exclamation of shock and fear. Then, like a cat which has fled madly at an unfamiliar sound, he gradually realized he had heard it before, and it wasn't precisely a threat.</p> <p>Though it wasn't precisely <em>not,</em> either.</p> <p>Alis Rydderech leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. He writhed out of the seatbelt, with some effort, and spun in the bucket seat so that his knees pressed into the fabric. "What are you doing in my car?!"</p> <p>"Feeling badly-used," she smirked at him. He bumped the dome light controls with the back of his head, and in the sudden illumination saw she was dressed for warm weather travel, which was more distracting than the radio show had been, and that her face was a thin mask of amusement over a deeply-etched rictus of stress. He didn't notice the thing about her face until it started talking again. "Why didn't you introduce me to your parents? I thought we had something."</p> <p>"You tried to kill me." He reached up to rub his sore muscles, managing with some effort to make the soreness worse. "You slept with me, and then you tried to kill me. That makes us…" He frowned. "I want to say 'even', but that doesn't seem right."</p> <p>"Don't most people who sleep with you want to kill you?" she asked sweetly, though the lines on her face and the bags under her eyes made it more of a sickly sort of sweetness. "I hear your last wife—"</p> <p>"Why are you here, Alis?"</p> <p>She looked a little surprised. Perhaps she'd expected him to have forgotten her name; if so, he was still setting expectations the way he liked it, so that was a plus. "I wanted to tell you something. All of you, really, but I think only you would listen to me. Everyone else," she sighed, "they think I'm an escaped terrorist, or something. Imagine that!"</p> <p>"I'm imagining it," he agreed.</p> <p>She scooted forward, and he resolutely kept his eyes on hers. The resolve wasn't very firm, unlike… <em>He kept his eyes on hers.</em> "William, dear, I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise not to fix the Breach."</p> </div> <div class="flashdel"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc15"><span><span style="color: #2b5fb3">2006</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Udo drew a finger along the edge of the panel, and a thin trickle of dust fell away before the entire thing shifted away from the wall. Ibanez reached into the hidden space, and drew out the dossier again.</p> <p>They sat at the kitchenette table, and reviewed what little they'd learned since the last time the file had seen the fluorescent light of day cycle. Ibanez had already cracked a beer.</p> <p>"The Temporal Anomalies Department," Udo began. "I think we're pretty solid on what that is, now."</p> <p>Ibanez grunted.</p> <p>"What?"</p> <p>"The Foundation answers to time cops who live outside of time, who're only partially answerable to the Overseers. All of the Overseers, from all the Foundations, across the timeplane. And when you emailed the <em>local</em> time cops, the ones we know about, the TAD butted in and said you were following a dead end. That's what we've arrived at."</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>"Meaning Dougall Deering's murder is a matter of <em>multiversal importance.</em>"</p> <p>Udo sighed. "Don't ask me why that makes any sense. Or, I don't know, maybe do ask me. Maybe if we keep asking each other, we'll figure it out."</p> <p>"Maybe once I've had a few more drinks." Ibanez slid a thin folio into the larger one, and pressed on them both until they stayed open. "This is from just this morning. List of everyone Dougall had privileged phone conversations with."</p> <p>Udo furrowed her brow. "Privileged?"</p> <p>"As in kept secret to everybody but the Director, under his privilege as Chair of AO." Applied Occultism was a contentious field in the anomalous community, even within the Foundation, and its practitioners were extended certain special security considerations. Not that they'd prevented him from dropping dead of an apparent psychic attack in the Breach of 2002… "He had chats off the record with a few people, but the only one that matters is Adrijan Zlatá."</p> <p>Udo complemented the furrow with a frown. "Why would he talk to Zlatá off the record? They worked in the same Section, at the same Site." She paused. "And how did you get these records, if they're Director's eyes only? Did Allan…?"</p> <p>Ibanez gave her a look. Udo was getting good at reading Ibanez's looks. This one said <em>Don't ask that question,</em> and to her credit, she didn't. "Okay, never mind. I <em>guess</em> it's a lead. Zlatá's just got to be clean, though, he's too old and boring to be into anything dirty… but maybe he knows something he hasn't contributed to the official report."</p> <p>Ibanez inclined her head in non-disagreement.</p> <p>Udo added a laminated duotang to the pile. "Everything we know about the empty containment chamber in Sublevel Four that isn't supposed to be there, like Sublevel Four itself. Pretty conclusive there's a connection between those chambers being empty, and what happened to Dougall. Something erased whoever lived in that room, and something killed my boss, too."</p> <p>The other woman didn't use possessives to refer to Deering often. For a while, Ibanez had preferred to call the departed doctor <em>your boyfriend</em> when speaking with Udo. She'd eventually noticed the effect that was having, and stopped. She could be considerate, if she got a run up at it. "Maybe the Breach was a cover for murder," she mused. "Maybe he was so important, somehow, that blowing up a whole Section was an acceptable distraction to draw off suspicion."</p> <p>"I don't want to even think about that."</p> <p>"Why not?"</p> <p>"Because if whoever killed him finds out we're still looking into it—"</p> <p>"They might blow up a whole Site to stop us. That's a fun thought, but thanks for having it. Duly noted." Ibanez rubbed her temples. "We're going to have to be a lot more careful from this point on, and not just because of that. Pensak's been nosing."</p> <p>Udo winced. "I still don't know why you keep that guy around. He's a creep." Roger Pensak was a highly competent member of Ibanez's security staff, hired by her on the recommendation of her alternate self; he'd been vital to getting them out of the first dead timeline alive, vital enough that Ibanez had left herself a note to that effect to get around the pesky fact that their memories of the other worlds followed those worlds into oblivion.</p> <p>"That's my business," Ibanez said. "But he's creeping around <em>ours,</em> so again, take care."</p> <p>Udo closed the file. "That's not a lot to show for a year's work. Or four years' work, for that matter."</p> <p>"It's not. But maybe the others will pull up something more relevant."</p> <p>They let that sit in the air for a moment. Neither of them was wholly comfortable with the fact that they'd never told the other five members of Sampi-5243 about their separate investigation, but given the stakes, it seemed better to involve as few of them as possible. After all, the survival of the timeline depended on <em>their</em> survival.</p> <p>"Well." Udo stood up. "The day's young. We could go talk to Zlatá, I guess."</p> <p>"We could," Ibanez agreed. "If he hadn't suddenly left the Site without notice this morning. Laiken's the new Chief of AO, and your boss."</p> <p>Udo blinked.</p> <p>"Still think he isn't up to something dirty?"</p> </div> <div class="flashboss"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc16"><span><span style="color: #990099">2007</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>Nhung Ngo clasped her beloved clipboard tightly, and smiled. There was a manila folder on the desk between them, labelled KAREN ELSTROM. It was precisely thick enough to contain one-sheet mandatory annual psych reviews going back to 1996, and nothing else. "I've got to admit, I'm pleased you made an appointment. I know how tough things have been for you lately."</p> <p>Karen gave her one inch of right brow, and nothing more. "Meaning?"</p> <p>Ngo blinked. "You've taken up a lot of administrative slack since Chief Skellicorne retired. Chief Mitchum doesn't know our people or situation nearly as well as Rory did. It's been a difficult transition, and you've borne most of the burden. I assumed that was what you wanted to talk to me about."</p> <p>Karen snorted. "You assumed wrong. I made an appointment because nobody looks into appointments the way they look into <em>meetings,</em> and this matter needs to be kept <em>sub rosa.</em> There's nothing wrong with me. I want to talk about Sampi-5243."</p> <p>Ngo's face closed up, the way most people's did when Karen spoke to them for any length of time these days. "See You In September. The Survivors."</p> <p>"Director McInnis, Chiefs Nascimbeni and Ibanez, Drs. Lillihammer, Blank, Okorie and Wettle. Have we covered all the titles now? The subject is clearly established?"</p> <p>Karen was moderately satisfied when Ngo chose not to grace that with a response.</p> <p>"Good. I have a request from Overwatch Command regarding these persons, and I've given some thought as to how we might execute it, and this has brought me to you."</p> <p>Ngo set down the clipboard. "I think I need some extra clarity, actually. This is Overwatch going over the Director's head? He isn't aware of what you're doing?"</p> <p>"That's right." The comfortable chair Ngo reserved for her patients called out to Karen in a soothing voice. Her back ached, as did the muscles of her neck, and there was a dull throb behind her eyes. She responded by straightening further, and clenching her buttocks until they ached. She had no time to lounge around. There were personnel problems to resolve, and no better pair for synergizing a strategy than the two of them. She made her pitch. "Sampi-5243 have become very close since the Breach forced them together. They spend a great deal of time conferring, usually in Dr. Okorie's quarters. They fraternize. They keep counsel. They are becoming insular. The Overseers have expressed the opinion, and Overwatch has passed it along to me, that they may represent an interest bloc within Site-43 which is not wholly aligned with the interests of the Foundation at large."</p> <p>Eyes wide, Ngo shook her head. "You don't believe that."</p> <p>"I don't," Karen agreed. "And neither do you. So it's our job to convince the people who don't know them so well."</p> <p>"It sounds," Ngo said, slowly, making eye contact, "like it's <em>your</em> job, actually."</p> <p>Karen spared one of her increasingly rare, dazzling white smiles for the other woman. "I rank you, Dr. Ngo, and I am making it your problem too."</p> <p>The psychologist tapped the clipboard anxiously. "I'm not a spy."</p> <p>Karen laughed. "Who asked you to spy on anyone?"</p> <p>"Then what is it you want me to do?"</p> <p>"Spy on them, of course."</p> </div> <div class="flashyhammer"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc17"><span><span style="color: #c5000b">2008</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-wild-light">Site-167</a>: <span style="color: #f7f7f7">████████████ ████████ ███████</span>, United States of America</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"You're right." Wheeler nodded. "We don't combine these precautions often. Almost never, in fact. The use cases for both can be counted on one hand." Wheeler tapped each left hand digit with her right index finger, lingering for no clear reason on the thumb.</p> <p>"Hooray." Customarily Lillian would have said something more, something incisive or smug, to diminish the gravity that Wheeler and her colleagues were applying to this meeting. But she wasn't up to it, because there was a revolting, slimy <em>thing</em> lathered over her face, gripping the back of her skull with tentacles pulsing in tune with her somatic rhythm, and she was seeing out of its single bulbous eye instead of her own. The creature, as she understood it, was both a mental firewall and a kind of biological RAM, offshoring the memories she would otherwise be forming about whatever they were talking about today.</p> <p>The meeting was being held at Site-167, which Lillian had never heard of before. It was apparently the headquarters of the Antimemetics Division, which she had thought was Site-41. Also present in the room was Bartholomew Hughes, a known quantity in the realm of containment design; Michael Li, the Division's Director, which Lillian had rather thought was Wheeler's job; and Arik Euler, one of two memeticists who had trained her and the only one who was still alive. Though not, she thought, as she did every time she looked at him these days, perhaps for very much longer.</p> <p>She wouldn't be sorry to see that particular thought consigned to the incinerator when they took the germ off at the end of the meeting.</p> <p>Li clasped his hands together, and did not smile. There was something deliberate about the way he didn't smile. "We brought you here under the recommendation of Mrs. Wheeler. She's attested to your facility with memetics across all practical applications, and your unique mnemonic abilities."</p> <p>"Uh huh." Lillian glanced at Euler, and suppressed the urge to wink. It wouldn't work with just the one eye. "They're still mad Bernie snatched me up."</p> <p>Euler's germ moved in a way which suggested he might have been smiling with his eyes, but it was difficult to say for sure. He didn't respond.</p> <p>"For the record, such as it is," Wheeler interjected, "could you explain how your memory presently functions? Without… excessive elaboration, perhaps?"</p> <p>Lillian suppressed a chuckle. She imagined the germ ballooning out like an air bladder, and was once again grateful that it didn't cover her mouth. "I don't forget things. Literally can't. Even if it's impossible not to. Even if they haven't happened anymore. I have total cross-timeplane recall, and amnestics can't touch it. Not even the strong stuff."</p> <p>"Is that why we're in here, with these… things, on our faces?" Euler asked. His voice was weaker than Lillian remembered, but then, she hadn't seen him in nearly a year.</p> <p><em>In here</em> was doing a lot of heavy lifting. Site-167's 'Vegas Room' was a biomechanical construction involving the corpse of an antimemetic giant, a luxurious meeting space hollowed out of its skull. Nothing so simple as a rogue phoneme could penetrate into the space they were presently occupying, and yet still they were wearing their mnemonic shields. Lillian was as curious as Euler as to why that would be remotely necessary; it was like wrapping a condom in Kevlar.</p> <p>"Not quite," Hughes piped up. "There is a topic tangential to what we're talking about today, a topic of extreme sensitivity, and we're in the final stages of figuring out precisely what to do about it. We're not going to go into details. There may be implication, however, and semantic associations, and even that will be taking a serious risk. This is the most important meeting you've ever been in." He sounded exhausted. Beaten-down. Depressed, even.</p> <p>"Well, as long as what happens in skull stays in skull, you mind telling me what you want from me now?"</p> <p>Li nodded. "There are hundreds of research bodies worldwide dedicated to the study of antimemetic phenomena. That we know of. Given that antimemetic phenomena are antimemetic—"</p> <p>"—you might not know of a whole lot more, because being forgettable sometimes rubs off on you." Lillian was more than familiar with the concept. Even as a specialist in plain old memetics, she had a set of dazzling labcoats designed with the sole purpose of keeping her memorable in the face of mnemonic corruption.</p> <p>"That's right. That's a problem, though not a major one. It might also be a solution."</p> <p>Wheeler picked up smoothly after Li finished. Lillian realized this had all been rehearsed. "We've consulted with Dr. Euler, and he believes you might be able to help us with the creation of certain… countermeasures."</p> <p>"Countermeasures to what?"</p> <p>"To what we're not going to talk about," Hughes sighed.</p> <p>"You don't need to know why," Marion resumed, "and that's good, because you won't. You won't be taking that information out of this room with you. You'll be taking the job, if you've chosen to accept it, and you'll have to live with not being able to figure out why you've done either of those things. That's the most crucial question here, actually: if you agree that you can't be allowed to know something, and we convey undeniable proof to you that this was the case, will you be able to stop yourself from looking into it?"</p> <p>Lillian moved her mouth silently around the syllables the other woman had so casually spun into a web of unnumbered negatives. "No," she decided. "Probably not. So you'll just put a memetic geas on me." A powerful enough thaumaturgic onus could override even her own insatiable curiosity. She glanced at Euler. "Which is why he's really here, because nobody else would be able to make it stick. Because I'm so smart."</p> <p>A smile twitched at the corners of Wheeler's lips. "I'm glad you agree with that part of the plan. Hopefully the rest will make just as much sense. You remember the hundreds of antimemetic research groups we just told you about?"</p> <p>Lillian tapped the squishy mass on her face. "No, but this thing does."</p> <p>Hughes snorted.</p> <p>"Well," Wheeler said, "we want you to organize more of them. A lot more of them. As many as possible. Actually, we <em>need</em> you to do this. Specifically you."</p> <p>"Why specifically me?"</p> <p>"Because these won't simply be antimemetic research groups, Dr. Lillihammer." Wheeler, who never smiled, nevertheless, smiled. "They'll be antimemetic antimemetic research groups."</p> </div> <div class="generic"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc18"><span><span style="color: #5d5d5d">2009</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"I know you can hear me!" Brenda Corbin shouted, her voice carrying easily over the wind. Across the field, Udo Okorie pretended to pull her endless waterfall of maroon hair out of the raging gale, only coincidentally obscuring her eyes and ears as she walked away at a motivated clip. Brenda jogged to keep up, and then to close ground; their legs were about the same length, but the theologian was even more motivated than the thaumaturge. "You can hear through hair, Udo. Blank is living proof."</p> <p>Okorie stopped walking, and turned to face her. The wind immediately sent her hair flying out behind her, like a cape. If her wizardly vestments hadn't been cinched at the front, she would have had two capes. "I should have put my hood up," she admitted. "That would have been much more plausible."</p> <p>"I don't see why you're being so rude," Brenda grinned at her. "Are we strangers? Or are my ministrations really that obnoxious to you?"</p> <p>Ipperwash Park was lightly dusted with snow. Brenda wondered whether Okorie's magic would work on it, but pushed the question aside. It would consume her, if she allowed it to. She waited patiently for the response, which came only after the other woman had contorted her pretty face into a variety of different expressions, as though attempting to wring an answer out of herself. "Yes," she finally blurted. "They're obnoxious. I'm not going to talk to you about what I saw."</p> <p>Brenda refused to allow her energy to flag. She was close. She was very, very close. And she wanted to get even closer. "I'm not asking you to break your sacred vows, or NDAs, or whatever they put you through when you become a <em>bona fide</em> timeline traveller. I'm a Researcher in TheoTelo. You have been in <em>two</em> sustained encounters with theological entities. Interviewing you about that is now my telos. Allow me to achieve my purpose, Udo Okorie. Let's talk evil gods over dinner." She fluttered her eyelashes for emphasis.</p> <p>Okorie pulled her hair over her face. Brenda considered reaching out to brush it aside, or perhaps even blowing on it, but she suspected HR might have something to say about either of those actions, so instead, she tried psychology. "Why do you let it grow so long?"</p> <p>The whitening knuckles released, the colour flowing back into them as the hair flowed backward again. "What?"</p> <p>"Your hair. Why do you let it grow so long? It just gets in the way. Do you really need to hide from stuff so often that it's worth the back pain? You're carrying like a two-pound weight everywhere you go."</p> <p>"It's not <em>two pounds,</em>" Udo snapped, as though Brenda had just called her hair fat. "And I don't know. It's always been long. What does that have to do with anything?"</p> <p>"Well, Lillihammer won't tell me jack shit about the other timelines either. But what she <em>did</em> tell me is that by the time they were both over, you'd cut off all your hair."</p> <p>Okorie blinked.</p> <p>"Both times."</p> <p>"Both times?"</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>Okorie considered. "Is that supposed to mean something?"</p> <p>The wind suddenly shifted direction, and the space between them was filled with waving curls.</p> <p>"I think," Brenda said, "it means you need to learn something about surrendering to the inevitable. On that note, I know a lovely sushi bar in Grand Bend where—"</p> </div> <div class="jandm"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc19"><span><span style="color: #cc9900">2010</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>Nascimbeni winced as Forsythe adjusted the leads on his chest. "Not so rough!"</p> <p>The pug-nosed nurse gave him a withering glare, and for a moment he was reminded of Delfina Ibanez. The resulting mental conflict cut his protests short, and Forsythe finished her readings. "Not bad," she admitted. "But I don't think you hit your exercise target."</p> <p>"Those targets," he grumbled, "are absurd. I'm never going to be a long-distance runner. I spend most of my time on my back."</p> <p>He wasn't sure if he'd left her that opening to tease out a moment of levity, or if it had genuinely been an oversight. Years of working closely with Lillihammer and Blank had made him much more conscious of how his words might be twisted. But Forsythe, apparently, was in no mood. "You'll be spending all your time on your back, in a box, if you don't take those targets seriously. You're not getting any younger."</p> <p>"You say that," Nascimbeni sighed. "But those damn shots…"</p> <p>Forsythe already had the needle out. To his surprise, her hands were shaking.</p> <p>"Uh," he said.</p> <p>She swore. "Put your shirt on. I'll be right back."</p> <p>He retrieved his black turtleneck from the hook behind the examination table, then hopped off to follow her past the curtain and into the ward proper. She was nowhere to be seen.</p> <p>Billie Forsythe was sitting in a rolling chair, one of the ones the doctors sometimes used when they'd been on shift for a dozen hours and didn't trust their legs anymore, or wanted to conserve their energy. She was spinning in circles. The joy inherent to such an act was absent from her face, what little of it he could see behind the black raccoon makeup.</p> <p>She waved a neutral greeting at him, and he nodded. "Feeling better today?"</p> <p>She snorted. It seemed the most natural thing in the world from a Forsythe nose. "Fucking great. Every day's a gift from god."</p> <p>Billie Forsythe had been diagnosed with a rare and anomalous neurological disorder a few years prior. The cause was murky, though he suspected the girl's mother knew more than she was letting on. As a result, Billie now lived at Site-43. She wasn't happy about it.</p> <p>Probably nobody was.</p> <p>"Did you see where your mother went?"</p> <p>She turned her half-lidded eyes on him for a second, then glanced away. "Bathroom. Probably crying again."</p> <p>He considered this information carefully. "Again."</p> <p>"Yeah."</p> <p>"Why is she crying?" He suddenly realized that this was probably none of his business.</p> <p>Billie's perpetual sneer frown-shifted. "Because my aunt went nuts?"</p> <p>Nascimbeni vaguely understood this to refer to Emilié LeClair. He shrugged encouragingly.</p> <p>She continued the explanation, eyes widening with incredulity at his cluelessness.</p> <p>Nascimbeni blinked.</p> <p>It went on.</p> <p>He blinked again.</p> <p>She was staring at him now. "Guy, are you sure you actually work here?"</p> <p>"I <em>live</em> here," he retorted.</p> <p>"Sure." She went back to spinning her chair. "You and me both, that's what we call it."</p> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <img alt="Asterisk43.png" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png"/><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <h1 id="toc20"><span><span style="color: #990011">2011</span></span></h1> <h2 id="toc21"><span>9 September</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p>One tragedy of trauma is that relief becomes suspicious.</p> <p>When Harold Blank stepped into Operations Control at Site-43 on September the 9th, 2011 and was confronted with a smiling face assuring him that everything had gone to plan, time had in no way fractured, and he would be spared the horrors of another year spent labouring in the ruins of reality, he did not believe it. When he looked at the faces of his friends, he could see that they didn't believe it either. Lillian Lillihammer's bright blue eyes narrowed. Noè Nascimbeni's well-lined forehead creased. Delfina Ibanez looked angry. Udo Okorie looked confused. William Wettle looked confused too, but there was a good chance this wasn't in reaction to anything specific. Only Allan McInnis evinced no sign of distress.</p> <p>"Welcome back to baseline," the All-Sections Chief had said to them, and without missing a beat the Director replied, "Thank you. Status?"</p> <p>The ASC gestured at the room full of technicians tapping away at their consoles, then at the big board where all the lights were green. "Nothing to report. Just a quiet day in September."</p> <p>McInnis nodded. Harry was staring at him, as were the other four self-aware members of their little group. Looking to him for guidance. It wouldn't have seemed suspicious; he was, after all, the supreme authority down here. "I would appreciate a written summary of the day's events at your convenience, delivered to my office. In the meantime, I will debrief."</p> <p>"Not in public, surely," Lillian murmured. "Our virgin eyes."</p> <p>It should have been Harry's joke, but he didn't have it in him just now.</p> <p>"I'll have Ms. Ferber type something up and send it over," the ASC nodded. If he thought the request strange, he gave no sign. "Will there be anything else, sir?"</p> <p>McInnis shook his head. "No, thank you. You may stand down."</p> <p>It was hardly necessary. There was no tension in the room, no urgency to the keystrokes and mouse movements or even the set of the ASC's shoulders. Nevertheless, the big man managed to widen his smile a little. "As you say, sir. Good evening."</p> <p>"Good evening," McInnis smiled back, then turned to Udo and said: "Your rooms, doctor?"</p> <p>Udo blinked, then nodded much too quickly. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go." She started for the double doors, her movements quick and jerky. Furtive. Harry felt a flare of annoyance make it past the suspicious relief; this wasn't her first rodeo. She should have been prepared for…</p> <p><em>…for what, exactly?</em></p> <p>For nothing.</p> <p>They had failed to contain SCP-5243 for the third time in eight years, and for the <em>first</em> time in eight years, the universe apparently hadn't noticed.</p> <p>Everything was fine.</p> <p>It terrified him.</p> <p>Del was the first to speak, the instant the door was closed.</p> <p>They had walked the short distance from Operations Control to Udo's dorm in the northern block in relative silence, Wettle nattering about a sudden itch he'd developed between his shoulder blades that he couldn't scratch without removing his labcoat, an operation which uniformly ended in disaster. He was in mid-complaint when the diminutive security chief barked out "What the <em>fuck?!</em>" He flinched, as though afraid she was about to strike him. She'd done it before.</p> <p>"<em>Nothing</em> the fuck." Lillian flopped into the recliner she had long since claimed as her own; the arms were shredded where she'd clawed at them in restless dozing over the years, while the rest of them talked. Her fingernails found a few loose threads as she closed her eyes and kicked back. "We know how the Breach works. It doesn't work like this. We fucked up—"</p> <p>"<em>He</em> fucked up," Del interrupted, casting a withering glare at Nascimbeni as he sat down at the dining room table. He wouldn't meet her eyes.</p> <p>"—and when we fuck up, up gets <em>pregnant.</em> Up is universally fertile. Up does not <em>miscarry.</em>" Lillian clutched at the recliner so tightly that it creaked.</p> <p>"Maybe up had an ab—" Wettle began.</p> <p>McInnis interrupted him. "Is it possible, at all possible, that the Breach was <em>not</em> improperly replicated? That we successfully contained 5243?"</p> <p>"No." Lillian hammered the footrest with her hush puppies. The left one fell off. Her toes were curled. "No, we've seen how this works twice now. It doesn't matter that you executed the Victims who survived. They made it through those six minutes, and those six minutes define whether the timeline branches or not. Wirth and the rent-a-cops lived—"</p> <p>"Rent-a-cops?" Del snapped.</p> <p>"—so their awful magic selves have definitely gotten up to some awful magic bullshit in the past nine years. Just because the people living here haven't figured out what it was, doesn't mean it didn't happen."</p> <p>"Question," said Harry. He was sitting on one end of Udo's couch; she was sitting on the other. At a distance, as far as was possible.</p> <p>"Maybe they're all brainwashed," Lillian continued. "Maybe—"</p> <p>"Question," Harry repeated, and raised his volume with every subsequent word until Lillian stopped talking and let him finish. "Why do they EVEN KNOW <em>ABOUT THE BREACH?</em>" There was a moment's silence as the others attempted to work through his imperfect phrasing, which gave him the chance to rephrase. "Why did the ASC welcome us back to baseline? If we fucked the Breach, and this is an alternate timeline, why do they know about the alternate timelines? They didn't know shit in the last one."</p> <p>Lillian's eyes were open now, and shining. "<em>That</em> is a <em>very</em> good question. Thank you for interrupting me, Harry. Never do it again."</p> <p>McInnis had settled against the kitchen counter. "Is it possible they've worked out how 5243 <em>should have functioned,</em> in the absence of any world-altering phenomena? Perhaps Temporal Anomalies…" He trailed off. "No, that doesn't make sense either, does it?"</p> <p>"Why not?" Wettle asked, as though he was otherwise following the thread.</p> <p>Harry felt too helpless to even bother smacking him.</p> <p>"Because the Breach follows us," Lillian sighed. "Remember?"</p> <div class="flashyhammer"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc22"><span><span style="color: #c5000b">2007</span></span></h1> <h2 id="toc23"><span>10 September</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>Timeline 5243-B</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Udo was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, legs pulled tight against her chest, head buried between her knees. Del was pushing a cabinet half again as tall as she was against the door.</p> <p>Melissa Bradbury was sitting on Harry's couch, eyes bloodshot and bleary, dark circles around them and heavy bags beneath. She looked like she'd just walked through a sirocco.</p> <p>Harry knelt down in front of her. His voice was high and shaky, and it was all he could do to avoid stuttering. "How long has it been like this?"</p> <p>Melissa blinked, and her mouth opened. She didn't say anything.</p> <p>He reached out and took her by the shoulders. She was shaking, he realized. He massaged through the fabric, and tried again. "Melissa. How long—"</p> <p>"The breach," she whispered. "In F-D."</p> <p>He nodded encouragingly. "Okay. That's good. Which one?"</p> <p>Her eyes clouded further with confusion as a guttural howl erupted from the hallway. Del grunted as she tipped over a bookcase, scattering its contents over the carpet, before manhandling it over to the door. "Which one?" Melissa repeated. "Which one what?"</p> <p>"Which breach?" Harry visibly resisted the urge to shake her. "In F-D. Was it 2002? 2003? Last year? Which one?"</p> <p>She cocked her head to one side, and something of the woman they knew shone through for the first time since they'd found her near-catatonic on the couch. "I don't understand," she said. "There was only one breach."</p> <p>The wailing outside was now barely comprehensible as human speech. Something thumped hard on the door, over and over. Frantic. Frenzied. Desperate.</p> <p>"LET ME IN LET ME IN LET ME IN," Wettle howled over the soundproofing. "THEY'RE IN MY HAIR THEY'RE—"</p> </div> <p>"I definitely don't remember that," Wettle frowned.</p> <p>Lillian kicked her right shoe off. It struck him in the side of the head. "The Breach only happens when we're around. Until we show up for the first time, September 8 is just September 8."</p> <p>"But we're always around." Wettle rubbed his cheek.</p> <p>"<em>These versions</em> of us." Ibanez tapped her temples. "It follows <em>us</em> us. Only apparently it doesn't, because apparently it <em>didn't.</em>"</p> <p>McInnis cleared his throat. They all looked in his direction, except for Lillian and Nascimbeni. "Action items, then. Determine whether this is indeed baseline temporality, or an alternate timeline; if the latter, determine why the existence of the Breach is known, and determine what new challenges we face here. Pursue these enquiries with discretion."</p> <p>"Meaning you don't want me to do anything," said Wettle.</p> <p>McInnis nodded. "I believe that would be for the best, yes."</p> <p>"I'll find Melissa," Harry felt himself saying. Udo shot him a meaningful look. He pretended not to notice. "Or maybe not."</p> <p>Del kicked off the wall. "I'll check the security records."</p> <p>"I'll check my logs," Nascimbeni muttered.</p> <p>"<em>I'll</em> check your logs," Del said. "I don't trust you. This is all your fault."</p> <p>"Please." McInnis' voice was, as always, calm and level. "Let's not waste time with recriminations. We may need to work quickly."</p> <p>"And we might not," Harry yawned. He stretched, and stood up. "In which case I'll call up the archival database and see if there's anything."</p> <p>Udo remained on the couch. "I'll take the measure of the Site," she said.</p> <p>Harry glanced back and down at her. "Meaning?"</p> <p>She reached to her belt and drew the little sack of sand into view. "Take a run around the vents," she explained. "See what's what."</p> <p>"Die Hard With a Sandbag," he mused.</p> <p>She smiled.</p> <p>He almost smiled back.</p> <p>"We should avoid attracting attention," McInnis reminded them. "Please send me your findings remotely. We will have occasion to congregate again, but not tonight." He brought his hands together in a silent clap. "Sampi-5243, dismissed."</p> <p>Melissa Bradbury was still retired from active duty, living an isolated life in a Grand Bend bungalow. Harry had hoped that might have changed. If it hadn't, could anything else have? Wasn't that the fulcrum of his existence?</p> <p>Their entire message history was different, but still familiar.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> Getting through it alright?</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>M_Bradbury</strong><br/> Yeah.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>M_Bradbury</strong><br/> Uplink is kinda slow, though.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> It'd be a whole lot faster if you were actually here.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>M_Bradbury</strong><br/> Pass :)</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>The projects they'd been corresponding about were a mishmash of things he recognized, and things he didn't. He'd been sending her little research queries, keeping her in the loop about what he was working on, and she'd been sending him little packets of data in return. Site-43's only work-from-home researcher. The fact that the details had changed suggested…</p> <p>…what, precisely? That they were in an alternate timeline? Or that they'd always <em>been</em> in an alternate timeline, and had now collapsed back down to baseline, as the ASC's cryptic comment suggested? He hadn't even thought of that at the quick debriefing. He was sure Lillian had run it through her mind a million times already.</p> <p>He dropped his work tablet into his labcoat pocket, and opened his dorm room door.</p> <p>Udo was standing there, fist raised, looking sheepish.</p> <p>"Hi," he said.</p> <p>"Hi." She made the fist into a halfhearted wave, then stuffed it in her own pocket. "I was wondering if you wanted to watch over me while I do the thing." She tapped the reagents pouch with her free hand. "Then maybe we could get dinner?"</p> <p>"It's too soon," he said without even stopping to think about it. "My girlfriend just broke up with me, and I'm not ready."</p> <p>He couldn't shake the image of her look of astonished hurt, or stop the burning in his cheeks, as he took the long way 'round from his quarters to Archives and Revision, nor the shame he felt at taking the cheap shot, nor the sense that she'd easily deserved it.</p> <p>He left her there feeling ridiculous, vulnerable, and alone. She knew she'd precipitated it — it had been her suggestion that they pause their relationship before the timeline change, in case their new circumstances made it awkward — but she was still surprised by his sudden vehemence. His pettiness. The obvious injury to his feelings, and the callousness of his response. She stood in front of his closed door for a moment longer, guilt and resentment vying for control, then headed down the corridor in his wake. Not following him; there was simply no other way for her to walk. The path to his quarters was a dead end.</p> <p><em>Appropriately.</em></p> <p>She had found, confronted with a world which had changed in ways ineffable rather than cataclysmic, that she required the stabilizing influence of company. She had regretted what had seemed a sound decision the night before. She had made an overture, and she had been rejected. She therefore found herself at the main elevator without ever having fixed a destination in her mind, and within a few minutes was standing in the soft teal glow of her own domain: the second sublevel, Applied Occultism. There would be someone in the common room, or else one of the containment cells. There always was. Quite a few of her fellow occultists were night owls — practicing thaumaturgy at the witching hour was too strong a temptation to resist — and a great many of them felt out of place outside of their department, where being able to practice magic was far from the norm. Perhaps Rozálie Astrauskas worked at 43 in this timeline? She'd gone back to Area-21 in baseline, but if things were different here…</p> <p>…no, that didn't make sense. She'd left for 21 in the first place due to Udo's dalliance with Dougall Deering and fixation on his death, and none of that would have changed. Would it? It made her head hurt a little. She needed a flowchart.</p> <p>She saw who was sitting in the common room before she reached it, thanks to the wide bank of glass windows. She hesitated.</p> <p>The other woman saw her, and waved.</p> <p>Udo waved back, and walked the other way. Stacey Laiken was the last person in the world she wanted to run into right n—</p> <p>She ran into someone else.</p> <p>"I'm sorry!" the someone shouted, dancing backward on the toes of his workboots. "I was trying to get out of your way, but you weren't… I mean, it wasn't your… you know. I'm sorry."</p> <p>It was Dougall Deering.</p> <p>It was <em>Philip</em> Deering. Dougall wouldn't have been caught dead in a J&M uniform. Dougall had <em>already</em> been caught dead in a labcoat, silk shirt, dress pants and Doc Martens. It was only his brother, looking bashful and ashamed because she had been looking at a ninety degree angle to where she'd been walking.</p> <p>They were still in front of the ApplOcc lounge. Laiken was standing up now, looking concerned. Udo waved at her again, mumbled an apology to Phil, and headed back the way she'd come.</p> <p>Then stopped.</p> <p>She looked back at Phil. By the way his eyes were furiously scanning a safety poster on the wall, she knew he'd been watching her walk away. <em>Probably because you bowled him over like an idiot. Don't read anything into it.</em></p> <p><em>Don't read anything into it.</em></p> <p>He was reading a safety poster on the wall.</p> <p>Precisely where the mirror to catch his mirror monster should have been mounted.</p> <p>"'Welcome back to baseline'," she said under her breath, "my <em>ass.</em>"</p> <p>Lillihammer knew exactly where she wanted to go, and since everyone but McInnis seemed preoccupied with something, and Wettle couldn't very well follow the Director into his private office where he did his private Director business, he decided to follow her. He did it at a distance for the first few minutes, trying to figure out which parts of her were foreshortened to allow her legs to be that long; by the time he'd decided everything else was long, too, only the legs were even longer, she'd spun on her heel and snapped her long fingers at him. "If you're gonna come with, <em>come with.</em> Do not <em>trail me,</em> William Wettle. You are not my trailer, and we will never be <em>hitched.</em>"</p> <p>"I've been hitched twice," he told her as he caught up. It wasn't easy; his legs were long too, but unlike hers, they weren't very good at propelling him in only one direction at a time.</p> <p>"Timeline travel makes me queasy," she growled. "Don't make me lose my lunch. Whatever the fuck I had for lunch, here."</p> <p>"I thought here was… here?"</p> <p>She looked down her nose at him, despite the fact that the difference in height between the two of them was far less pronounced than it was between either one of them and anyone else. She was simply a natural nose-down-looker. "You <em>would</em> think that."</p> <p>By the time they reached Quantum Supermechanics, Lillihammer looked tense. She was walking on the tips of her shoes, and muttering softly under her breath. She did the latter whenever they were alone, which wasn't often; he assumed she was having a conversation with herself to avoid having to start one with him.</p> <p>They found Xinyi Du at the apex of the DUAL Core, a massive quantum computer which plunged away below them where a series of catwalks and maintenance accesses buzzed with drones and shone with dozens of blinking indicators. It was spinning; Wettle had never understood what practical reason a computer might have to spin, but perhaps it wasn't practical at all. Most of the Foundation's best scientists succumbed to some extent to the siren song of the rule of cool.</p> <p>"Hello, Lillian," Du smiled as they approached. "William. What can I do for you today?"</p> <p>Lillihammer frowned. "I was going to ask what tests you've been running lately."</p> <p>The grey-coated physicist shrugged. "Lots of them! The Core's been working double time. We've been checking out some really exciting new theories, as of course you well know." He cracked his neck. "Honestly, I'd been hoping you'd stop by. I already sent my preliminary report to the ASC, of course, but I could really use your help on the followup. And yours!" It took Wettle a second to realize this last was directed at him. "The primary conclusion is a relief, sure, but I need to know if my other findings are replicable too. Obviously we've only got the one Core, but the experimental procedure—"</p> <p>"I said," Lillihammer snapped, "I was <em>going</em> to ask." She flicked something in his direction, and Wettle instinctively ducked; he'd already seen what she could do with a thrown playing card, or rather he'd felt it, and seen the bruise every morning for a week afterward.</p> <p>Du caught the miniature missile with surprisingly deft reflexes, and tucked it into his labcoat pocket. "We can trade business cards later. Right now I—"</p> <p>Lillihammer clapped both hands against his temples, hard, and he fell to the grating in a heap. She plucked the card out of his labcoat, "Just in case," and ran it in front of his unseeing eyes.</p> <p>"What?" said Wettle.</p> <p>"That," she told him, "was Reuben Wirth."</p> <p>"Oh no," he cried. "Who's that?"</p> <p>A quick glance over his database told Nascimbeni everything he needed to know. All the inspection and repair reports were routine, properly filled, and mildly deviant from the ones he'd been looking at just yesterday. Whatever the people here thought was happening, they were wrong. This wasn't baseline.</p> <p>But it wasn't any better.</p> <p>There was, to his surprise, still a mural in the AAF-D approach corridor. It featured only three figures: Bernabé Del Olmo, David Markey, and Romolo Ambrogi. To create a world where his nephew was still alive, Nascimbeni would have had not only to prevent the closure of the airlock door, but rush the other man out of a control booth and down a maze of passages while all the demons were there. In six minutes.</p> <p>Or stop the breach entirely, as they'd inadvertently done the first time.</p> <p><em>Which turned out so wonderfully well.</em></p> <p>He felt heartsick.</p> <p>He checked his watch. <em>7:22.</em> His shift had already officially ended, but he had a little time before the continued activity became suspicious. Nascimbeni was known to be married to his work.</p> <p>He headed north, to Health and Pathology. He didn't see anyone who wasn't supposed to be alive, but that didn't mean they weren't around. People he knew nodded at him, and he nodded back. Azad Banerjee. Nîpisiy Maskwa. Sherali Ismail. He realized he'd forgotten to look up one very important detail, and cursed. Where was Gallo Nascimbeni? He'd never had the nerve to bring his son here, not in baseline. But maybe…</p> <p>The Site's CMO was chatting with the commander of the Mobile Task Forces in the hospital lobby. Emilié LeClair was leaning against a nurse station, laughing and playing with her silver hair. Gedeon Van Rompay had his hands in his tactical vest, and for the first time since Nascimbeni had known him, he was laughing too. It was a surprisingly rich, warm sound. As Nascimbeni passed, the gruff older man gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement, and LeClair reached up to pull his beret down over his eyes. They were still laughing when Nascimbeni turned the corner out of sight, on his way to Psych and Parapsych.</p> <p>He stopped dead in his tracks.</p> <p>It had been a long time since he'd gone to H&P for a checkup. When the CMO needed to see him, she always came to his office, and he didn't make a point of encouraging it. If there was something fatally wrong with him, he mostly preferred that it catch him suddenly and unawares. That was why the discontinuity hadn't immediately struck him, even though it had been spelled out in large, neon letters just last year.</p> <p>The Chief Medical Officer of Site-43 was supposed to be a dour woman named Helena Forsythe.</p> <p>Emilié LeClair lived in a retirement home in Grand Bend, and had since 2010.</p> <p>She had Alzheimer's Disease.</p> <div class="muddle"> <p>Site-43 was established, as we've already… established, on the well-trodden trackways of an industrious race of big-cat-shaped chimaeras. Many of these sunken paths sufficed as lake-to-lake transit, some sought out sources of subterranean warmth, and some linked the beneath world with the world of humanity above. But many switched back on themselves, spiralling recursively deeper and deeper into the murky depths, and evidence of these can still be found in the otherwise rationalized footprint of our facility. There are countless corners, nooks and crannies carved from the rock in ages past and blocked over, plastered over, and tiled over in recent memory. The result is that it's never that hard to dodge human company at Site-43, with its wealth of blind alleys and <em>culs-de-sac,</em> whether you're hoping to catch your breath there or achieve the polar opposite.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>— Dr. Harold Blank, <em>Lines in a Muddle: A Cultural History of Site-43</em></p> </div> </div> <p>Harry found himself heading for the office which had once belonged to Melissa Bradbury, and stopped himself long before he reached it. He wasn't ready for whatever revelations awaited him there. Every detail he acquired about the new <em>status quo</em> brought him closer to that moment when the vast branching tree of possibilities would be whittled down to a nub. He wasn't ready for that, not so soon after his shameful display with Udo.</p> <p><em>Oh, we're ashamed of ourselves now, are we?</em></p> <p>Perhaps that was what brought him instead to the party-streamer-shaped corridor which wound past Admin and Oversight, then in on itself, until it reached a set of washrooms that practically nobody used. This was where Edwin Falkirk, Site-43's shortest serving and least lamented Director, had encountered Philip Deering's significant other. Harry still wondered what precisely had gone down at that meeting. Perhaps Delfina had something in her files? But then, this also would be an unpleasant revelation. He wasn't ready to learn that they had security cameras in the washrooms, either.</p> <p>He pushed open the door, and immediately discovered instead that they certainly didn't have smoke detectors.</p> <p>Karen Elstrom was hunched in the corner, a half-spent cigarette pressed between her thin lips by her thin fingers. She turned to face him, nostrils flared, a glimmer of guilt on twin seas of anger in her eyes.</p> <p>"Sorry," he said. He raised both hands, as though she might lash out.</p> <p>She crushed the cigarette into the nearest sink. "Sorry for what."</p> <p>"I didn't know anyone was in here."</p> <p>"It's not a private washroom, Harry."</p> <p>He felt like something more was expected, but he wasn't sure what. The look she was giving him was certainly expectant… "Oh." He was standing in front of the exit, wasn't he? He moved aside, and she moved to pass. They switched places, she at the door, him in the middle of the dull green tiles, where a dip in elevation would draw mop water and filth alike into a shiny grey drain in the floor.</p> <p>Only she didn't push the door open, just stood there with her back to him. The black polyester of her vest's rear panel shone blue in the sickly fluorescents. Her shoulders were rounded. Her hair was knotted so tightly against her skull that he thought it must have hurt for her to speak. Certainly she'd never be able to manage a smile.</p> <p>"It's just been a lot," she told the bathroom door. "I don't need your fucking judgement."</p> <p>And she left.</p> <p>Ibanez's first thought, as she'd declared to the other Survivors, was to head for Security and Containment. Not only because this was her bailiwick, and not only because that was where her records were, but those were two very good reasons nevertheless. She made it her business to know everything that went on at Site-43, and the versions of her who had lived in the last two alternate realities had been no different. But perhaps she wouldn't even need to reach her office; the first time she'd travelled across timelines, she'd almost immediately been confronted with two agents who'd died violent deaths in baseline reality. If she saw Sandy Holt or Lew Bosch in the halls, she'd know the score.</p> <p>As it turned out, she didn't even need to reach S&C.</p> <p>As she passed through the perpendicular cloverleaf of access hallways outside the AAF-D approach, two J&M techs came strolling out of their beige concrete bunker. Because they were wearing the jumpsuits adopted back in 2003, and because these weren't her people, it took her a moment to realize who she was seeing. They were laughing, and one of them punched the other in the shoulder, and as they walked past her they both mock-saluted.</p> <p>"Evening, Chief!" Paul Nicolescu stopped to stretch his legs. "We're off for the saloon. Wanna join?"</p> <p>"Yeah!" Sergey Vanchev grinned down at her. "Be nice to have a drinking partner who can keep up with me, for a change."</p> <p>"Hey!" Nicolescu punched him playfully again, and they both laughed.</p> <p>She'd last seen them both in the morgue, in uniforms which had been promptly discontinued. Vanchev with his head staved in, by Nicolescu, who had fed himself to the wolves in remorse.</p> <p>"Maybe later," she managed.</p> <p>"Suit yourself." Vanchev put an arm around Nicolescu, and steered him back down the corridor. "But there's no time like the present!"</p> <p>They had planned for a thousand eventualities in the years since the last dead timeline. McInnis had no end of options, things he could investigate, places he might go. In almost every situation, however, he would find himself making the same decision. There was no version of the All-Sections Chief whom he did not trust implicitly. The others were off on their own missions, and the truth would undoubtedly out in short order. It was time to come clean to his deputy.</p> <p>Only the moment he entered Operations Control again, that same deputy sent him back out.</p> <p>"She's stopped outside the interdiction zone." Anyone else would have sighed this information. The ASC never sighed. "They're keeping her topside. But she's insisting she needs to speak with you, sir."</p> <p>"Does she get to do that?" Karen Elstrom asked from her station beside the Section head's raised daïs. She looked several different sorts of pained. "Is that a thing we're allowing her to do?" McInnis wondered what history, if any, Falkirk's erstwhile secretary had with their unwanted visitor.</p> <p>"Not as a demand, no," he admitted. "But perhaps as a courtesy." This was more a job for the Chief of A&O, but he didn't know where Mitchum was, and it probably wouldn't look good for him to ask. For all he knew, he'd sent the man on a mission himself. As much as he was certain he could rely on the ASC, and Elstrom too in a pinch, the room was full of other people he only knew well enough to trust with his life. Trusting them with the lives of every man, woman and child on Earth was something else entirely.</p> <p>"I'll go," he said, then raised a hand to stifle Elstrom's inevitable protest — she had always taken a personal interest in his safety, since he'd saved her life on the day they'd first met. "With a security escort, of course." He scanned the room quickly. "Agent Pensak, Agent O, if you please."</p> <p>The rangy Israeli man and stocky Korean woman checked their sidearms, per procedure, and crossed the tiles to flank him. It was interesting, though he didn't have time to ponder it, that Pensak was here. He'd been hired after the first dead timeline, on the back of what they'd learned about him there. <em>Curious.</em></p> <p>"Try not to lose the Site while I'm away," McInnis told his deputy, and headed into Habitation and Sustenance in the direction of the topside elevator.</p> <p>As much as the Chief Superintendent of the Occult and Supernatural Activities Taskforce deserved to be kept waiting, perhaps even indefinitely, it was at least conceivable that she might have some vague idea of what was going on.</p> <p>They rode up in silence. Pensak's face was drawn, and his cheeks hollow, but then he had never looked precisely cheerful. O had the twitchy look of a sniper caught in the open, but McInnis knew she'd be calm when it mattered. He was well-protected, not that he expected to need protection. The Mounties knew both too much and not enough about what lurked down below to attempt a forced entry. In baseline, they'd only ever set foot in Site-43 by invitation since the sixties.</p> <p>He did not intend to extend an invitation today. Whatever Morwen Couch wanted to talk about, they could discuss in her vehicle, or the barracks buildings of Camp Ipperwash. Given the circumstances of her last appearance here, she should count herself lucky he was even willing to acknowledge her presence.</p> <p>The elevator shuddered to a stop, topside, and the doors slid open.</p> <p>On absolutely nothing at all.</p> <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-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="/"> <p><a href="/">/</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="The Breach Goes On: Deadlined"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/deadlined-hub">The Breach Goes On: Deadlined</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Next to Nothing"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/44-next-to-nothing">Next to Nothing</a></p> </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="/43-nothing-happens">Nothing Happens</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/43-nothing-happens">https://scpwiki.com/43-nothing-happens</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;"> <p>Illustrations in this series use reference material created with DAZ studio. Images of the following characters utilized the following photographic references as well:</p> <p>Karen Elstrom: "Natalya" by Anastasia Pavlenko, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/zamerzla/50841210177">https://www.flickr.com/photos/zamerzla/50841210177</a></p> <p>Delfina Ibanez: "Entrega de Libros y Casas" and "Cultura Federal Jujuy - día 2" by Romina Santarelli, both released CC BY-SA 2.0:<br/> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/culturaargentina/52872556322">https://www.flickr.com/photos/culturaargentina/52872556322</a><br/> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/culturaargentina/52832894653">https://www.flickr.com/photos/culturaargentina/52832894653</a></p> <p>Allan McInnis: "Harsh" by Jeremy Jenum, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/10382904023">https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/10382904023</a></p> <p>Noè Nascimbeni: "abdul" by Davidlohr Bueso, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/54829270@N00/5733944992">https://www.flickr.com/photos/54829270@N00/5733944992</a></p> <p>Nhung Ngo: Nhi Dang, "Huyen," released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/">https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/</a> and Rod Waddington, "Hmong Woman," released CC BY-SA 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060">https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060</a></p> <p>Ilse Reynders: "Practicing that blank stare" and "Quinn working" by Quinn Dombrowski, both released CC BY-SA 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/3608370529">https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/3608370529</a> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/1509808028">https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/1509808028</a></p> <p>William Wettle: "Scruffy self-portrait" by Nic McPhee, released CC BY-SA 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260">https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260</a></p> <p>Marion Wheeler: Untitled sketches by WasteButterscotch810, by default CC BY-SA 3.0: <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/SCP/comments/t6g7tz/marion_wheeler_sketches_bc_i_reread_there_is_no">https://www.reddit.com/r/SCP/comments/t6g7tz/marion_wheeler_sketches_bc_i_reread_there_is_no</a></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Everything!<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=1735469520" 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</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a> fade=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[module css]] .document { padding: 4px 16px 4px 16px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); width: 85%; margin: auto; margin-bottom: 28px; margin-top: 28px; background: white; border: solid 2px #5D5D5D; } .jandm { border-left: solid 3px rgb(204, 153, 0); border-right: solid 3px rgb(204, 153, 0); 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padding: 25px 25px 25px 25px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); margin: auto; background: #f7f7f7; } .flashwet { border-left: solid 3px rgb(102, 102, 255); border-right: solid 3px rgb(102, 102, 255); padding: 25px 25px 25px 25px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); margin: auto; background: #f7f7f7; } .udoflashback { border-left: solid 3px rgb(255, 149, 14); border-right: solid 3px rgb(255, 149, 14); padding: 25px 25px 25px 25px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); margin: auto; background: #f7f7f7; } .generic { border-left: solid 3px rgb(93, 93, 93); border-right: solid 3px rgb(93, 93, 93); padding: 25px 25px 25px 25px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); margin: auto; background: #f7f7f7; } [[/module]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/info:start">:scp-wiki:info:start</a>]] [[=]] Nothing Happens And it happens //everywhere.// [[[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>]] [[=]] + Nothing Happens @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="document"]] Advice is tyranny. [[>]] -- Julian "Fleetfoot" Ruggles, 1621 [[/>]] [[/div]] What's the last thing you remember? Most people can tell you the //first// thing they remember... or rather, the thing that feels like the first. For Noè Nascimbeni, Chief of Janitorial and Maintenance at SCP Foundation Lake Huron Research and Containment Facility Site-43, it's the first time he tasted Sicilian gelato. For Harold Blank, Chair of Archives and Revision, it's playing with a pair of bright red plastic cones -- he has no recollection of what they actually were -- on his godmother's bed in Clarkson, Mississauga. Delfina Ibanez, Chief of Security and Containment (for now), remembers fireworks on the pier in her hidden Argentine village; she can still taste the gunpowder in the air, though she might be getting her wires crossed. Fire features prominently in many of her memories of Zevala. For the Site Director, Allan McInnis, his father shouting his uncle clear out of England is the earliest legible page. For Udo Okorie, Researcher in Applied Occultism, it's a hazy image of being held in her mother's arms on the beach at Blackpool, a toddler barely three years old. Nobody believes her when she says she can still sense the presence of all that sand, bleeding the sun's radiation back into the darkening sky, but she's nevertheless not imagining it. As for William Wettle, Deputy Chair of Replication Studies, well. He'll tell you something different every time you ask, and he'll mean it, too. He's like that. But for Lillian Lillihammer, Chair of Memetics and Countermemetics, the answer is eerie. Her earliest memory was once the cake her parents bought for her second birthday. It was caramel. She especially remembers the candles; she still has them socked away somewhere, but she wouldn't need the visual aid to call the scene to mind. It wasn't traumatic, it wasn't especially exciting, it was simply by random biological chance the first time her brain started committing things to the hippocampus, a good six months before most people's minds are up to the task of forging a permanent record. Today, though, the same request pulls an altogether different file. She remembers darkness, and warmth, and wet, and being a part of something greater than herself which flexed and shook and burbled beyond her control. She tries not to remember this very often, more because it's not useful than because it's unpleasant -- though it is absolutely, definitely unpleasant. There are plenty of more valuable impressions to call upon, and her musing time is at a premium these days. Unlike everyone else at Site-43, Dr. Lillihammer can dredge up every instant she has ever lived through, every thought she's ever had, every emotion she's ever felt. This isn't a burden she's borne all her life; it first fell upon her on the eighth of September, 2002, when an esoteric waste disposal facility exploded and she had the misfortune to be standing too close. Before that, her experience of the past was merely eidetic, what they call 'total recall', which is really just very good photographic memory. Since the accident the operative term is 'hyperthymesia', amnesia's rare and evil twin. Lillian Lillihammer remembers everything. So she could tell you, if she deemed you the sort of person worth telling things to, what the first thing she remembers is, but she could also tell you the last thing. The last event, the last thought, the last piece of sensory data committed to her inviolable mental vault. Of course, her doing so would then become the new last thing she remembers, but Lillihammer is an irritable sort -- she was irritable before the hyperthymesia, but it absolutely did not help -- so she's unlikely to split those particular hairs. Because of the two questions, she considers the latter so very much more interesting. More instructive. More important. Because the last thing a person remembers is the last thing that meant something to them. The last thing that mattered. And the last thing that mattered, at least from her perspective -- and her perspective on all things memory is by default the most informed -- is a very special thing indeed. Because it's the last thing that truly //happened.// Lillian Lillihammer has seen the final moments of the universe, a snapshot of the instant before apocalypse, twice since the Breach of 2002. The last thing that mattered to the entire surviving human race, up to the second at which they ceased at last to survive. She has reason to believe this will happen again, bearing witness to the fraying out of reality's ragged thread, four more times. The time after that, if there is one, if she and her six colleagues can't stop it from happening, will be the utmost end of meaning. The finality of memory. The last of the last of the things that matter. And she will be the last human standing, metaphorical camera metaphorically in hand, to document that final frame of cosmically vast failure. Before she, too, becomes nothing, because there will be nobody left to remember her. [[=image DL_43_01_Lillihammer_Memory.jpg]] So, no pressure. [[image https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/0-underture/TBGO.png]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="jandm"]] [[=]] + ##CC9900\|1971## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-246 Site-246]: Lake Superior, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- There was nothing, he was now convinced, that was any more dangerous than knowing what you wanted. Noè Nascimbeni stood in a marvel of engineering, the sort of thing he would have sworn just months ago could only exist in the most fanciful science fiction, and all he could think about was leaving. Returning to the subterranean playground he felt he'd only briefly glimpsed, though in actuality he'd spent a fortnight examining every piece of outrageous machinery and poring over every blueprint and data sheet made available by his new position. He'd barely scratched the surface of what the place was, and already his mind was consumed with the possibilities of what it could //become.// He wanted to go back, right now. He //needed// to go back. Because his life had changed so much so quickly that standing in a space one kilometre underground parsed as more fantastic than standing one kilometre underwater. He was in the submarine bay of a facility which nestled in its own filth on the floor of Lake Superior. As he checked his latest weld for the third time -- he habitually checked things twice, but being underwater formed new, superlatively cautious habits -- he realized he was no longer alone. A grizzled older man in a crisp, agnostic uniform was watching him go through the motions. Nascimbeni fought the urge to salute. He did that a lot; the Foundation wasn't particularly martial, but it did have a hierarchy, and most people he met were higher up it than he was. This man in particular seemed worthy of a quick show of respect. Something in his bearing. [[=image DL_43_02_Nascimbeni_Weld.jpg]] "You're a bit young for this post," the old man grunted. "Yes, sir." Nascimbeni returned the welder to its socket on the cart. "Just doing my rotation before starting at 43." "Ah. They're scaring you straight." The soldier -- for obviously he had been one, might still be one now -- nodded with a mirthless smile. "Do your best up there, or you'll end up down here." Nascimbeni shrugged. "I think this place is incredible." "It //is// incredible. It used to be fantastic. In a few more decades it'll just be amazing. I won't be here to see it. Be sure you aren't either." "I'll be at 43." His schemes and schematics momentarily obscured the other's craggy visage. "Hopefully for a good long while." "43," the old man mused. "The Catacombs. You're a little young for burial, too. Haven't you got a girlfriend?" Nascimbeni hoped he wasn't blushing. He probably was. "I do, sir." "And she isn't with the company?" He'd never heard the Foundation called that before. He wondered who the other man was. "No, sir, she isn't." "And you're welding backup sub doors instead of picnicking on the beach with her because...?" "Because there's work to do, sir." The old man grunted. "Piece of advice?" Nascimbeni spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. "There's always going to be work to do. Work never runs out. Time does." Unsure how else to respond, Nascimbeni simply nodded. "Good man." As the officer turned to walk away, Nascimbeni was gripped with the sudden urge to know who had so confidently chastised him for doing his job. He hadn't met anyone else at the 'company' who would have suggested prioritizing family over Foundation. "Sir? he called out. "I didn't get your name. " The old man didn't turn around, just kept on walking. His voice carried easily in the cavernous bay. "Don't be here long enough to need it." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashboss"]] [[=]] + ##990099\|1979## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##990011\|Outpost-211##: Lincolnshire, East Midlands, England, United Kingdom[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- Communication, to Allan McInnis, meant transference. To transfer information. Facts, feelings, more ephemeral quanta. Viruses, even. People? If a person could be communicated, that was how he would describe his present assignment. Conveyed from facility to facility, learning how they lived and worked, floating between them like a mote of dust or a particle of disease. Translated on an axis from Point A to Point B to-- A vigorous clap on his shoulder brought him of the reverie. "Internal monologue again? I thought your job was external dialogue." Obi Okorie, researcher in acroamatic abatement, sat down beside him at the picnic table. "Aren't all dialogues external?" Anjali Oparei, researcher in applied occultism, took a seat across the slats. "You tell me," the other man grinned at her. "You're the exorcist." McInnis looked from one to the other, gauging the extent to which they were absorbed in each other's company. He wasn't imagining the chemistry, though it was experientially foreign to him. They were rarely apart, as he'd had ample opportunity to observe; they'd adopted him just hours after his arrival at the Outpost, showing him around and familiarizing him -- overfamiliarizing really -- with the customary protocols and office politics of their little esoteric waste plant. Father and mother, though the three of them were nearly the same age. "Exorcist," Anjali repeated. She looked to McInnis for support. "You hearing this?" He nodded noncommittally. He was meant to lead them in a review of the Outpost's disciplinary files today, ready at hand in his valise under the table, but he'd quickly learned that these two needed to ground the electricity between them before they could get anything done. He suspected they weren't even aware that it was happening, and recognized the irony that he was the one to recognize it. He wondered whether Vivian Scout had intended micromanaging these little interactions as one element of his training; when the tour was over, he'd be joining Site-43's administrative oversight staff, and the real test of his insight into the squishy workings of the human brain would begin. Not only would he understand the breadth of the Foundation's personnel process by then, he'd have had ample practice in the trade of people-managing. "Allan knows when to keep mum," Obi laughed. "And never to meddle in the affairs of wizards." The moment seemed ripe for a team-building exercise. "Oh," McInnis nodded with a clueless little smile. "So you //are// having an affair. Congratulations!" Anjali's jaw dropped. Obi's dancing brows shot to the apex of their arc. The two of them made and broke eye contact enough times in the succeeding seconds to simulate a minute's worth of REM. Anjali was the first to recover. "Uh, did you bring the files?" "Of course." McInnis bent to retrieve his valise. "You know," Obi remarked as the locks clicked open and the dusty files were suddenly exposed to dull Midlands sunlight, "you really know how to force a segue. Ever consider the Director track?" The thought had crossed his mind. Leadership, to Allan McInnis, meant transference. To transfer authority, responsibility, blame. This made it, if not precisely synonymous, at least conceptually parallel to communication. He wondered whether the difference between the two things was very spacious. Perhaps, when he finally got back to Canada, he'd find out. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashdel"]] [[=]] + ##2B5FB3\|1994## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##990011\|Site-34##: Somewhere in Latin America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- For the first half hour or so, she beat the synthetic shit out of the dummy with her fists. It wasn't made of any material she'd ever touched before, but just a few punches told her it wouldn't split the skin of her knuckles, that the give was good, that it would provide her a righteous good time and the chance to demonstrate how much power she could pack into her tiny fists. When this didn't produce any measurable response from her observers -- not that she was meant to know she was being observed, because whatever else these people might be, they were definitely big fans of seeming detached and mysterious -- she gave her hands a rest and started kicking the inanimate thing to symbolic death. Maybe fifteen minutes of that and she was bored, so she kicked up her heels, inverted in midair, clapped her feet to the dummy's clavicle and snapped its neck with her thighs as she hung upside-down from its shoulders. The door opened, and she dropped to a perfect crouch. It helped that no part of her was ever very far from her centre of gravity. As though in belated realization, the dummy's head dropped off. "That was very impressive." It was Scout, of course, the only human being she'd seen since waking up in this strange new world. He looked just as old, tired, and weak as he had during the initial debriefing. "One wonders why you even needed the suit." It was the first time he'd mentioned the fact that she'd massacred the Chaos Insurgents occupying Zevala in an armored, weaponized shell an order of magnitude more advanced than any other piece of technology in the village. She could only assume that scientists and technicians were picking it apart and studying it as they spoke. "I didn't," she told him as she straightened the short distance between crouch and standing. "I could have gotten them all with my bare hands. The suit was just time management." He smiled wryly. It made his lips so thin, there was no visible blood left in them. "What would you have done then? If we hadn't arrived?" "Farm, I guess." "Is that what you'd like to do now? I'm sure I could find a co-op in need of a spare hand." She snorted. It felt too close to laughter, and deepened the pit in her stomach. "Lot of call for a four-foot farmer around here?" She threw out feelers like this from time to time in their brief conversations, and he never bit. She still had no idea where //around here// was, and he wasn't letting on. "Four foot soldiers are an equally scarce commodity," he remarked. "Yeah, funny thought, right?" She gestured at the headless dummy. "Think he'd be laughing, if he was real?" Scout removed his fedora and rubbed the thin grey hair beneath. "Delfina, you've suffered a great tragedy. You've also been through a strange, transformative experience which we do not yet fully understand. I was hoping you might be more forthcoming after you blew off some steam." She wondered if he could see the cold fury bubbling up inside of her. He made no move to retreat, but given his general equanimity, that wasn't saying much. "I thought you wanted to see what I can do, so I can do it for //you.// Whoever you are." His opaque spectacles dipped in acknowledgement. "You're certainly talented," he acknowledged. "And while I have serious qualms about drafting someone of your age into this conflict--" "--someone already beat you to it," she snapped. "--I must admit that it's impossible to restore you to your former station in life. There is no second Zevala. But I still have many questions about the first, because by rights, it should not have existed as it did." She gestured at the stark white room, by way of indicating the shadowy organization which had plucked her from the bay and imprisoned her. Which, for all she knew, had been an eager and equal partner in bringing death to her home. "And you guys should?" He glanced up at the ceiling, at the speaker embedded in the tiles, then at the mirrored wall she understood to be made of one-way glass. Then he looked at her again, and smiled even more grimly. "Up for debate. You might be involved in the final determination, some day. Of course, it will need to be an informed decision." "You want to swap life stories?" she spat. "Ours have converged," he sighed. "Perhaps we might get the narrative straight together?" [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashyhammer"]] [[=]] + ##C5000B\|1995## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8888 Site-15]: Santa Clara Valley, California, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- Lyle wasn't a squeaker. He didn't squeak when he was afraid. He didn't squeak when he got kicked in the crotch -- Eileen Veiksaar, his girlfriend, had demonstrated this to the proof standards of any scientific journal -- and he didn't squeak when he was winded. It wasn't a sound he made. If he'd been turned into a mouse, he'd probably lose his well-worn powers of speech entirely. He was, nevertheless, squeaking now. It had started when he'd seen Site-15 from a distance. It was a massive cylindrical lighthouse in the middle of the woods, rotating on impossibly vast gimbals, looking like a minimalist Dalek redesign, surrounded by a field of shimmering energy within which he could espy a hexagonal matrix. He loved hexagonal matrices, and he loved gigantic technofortresses, though he'd only known the first one even existed before that moment. Then beside him on the helicopter's bench seat, Rudolph Marroquin had told him the glowing dome was called a //Faraday Hexfield,// and he had squeaked again. He'd pointed at pretty well everything they'd walked past so far: robotics labs, CRAY supercomputer banks, even the employee lounge with what looked like a truly obscene Super Nintendo setup next to an inexplicably flat-looking television the size of his truck. It wasn't that he was trying to squeak. He was trying to form words, and the excitement was strangling them in the womb. Eventually, Marroquin glanced back at him. Lyle was sure he was about to be told to shut up, but the hatchet-faced computer scientist merely smirked. Eileen was bringing up the rear. Lyle looked over his shoulder at her, fairly confident he could manage a normal sentence now that their circuitous (!) route had finally found a featureless corridor, and immediately noticed she was frowning. "What?" She stopped frowning. She didn't start smiling, but she looked the way she looked when she thought she had. "What?" He reached out and shoved her lightly in the fat of her upper right arm. The fat was tense, because her arms were crossed. "This has got to be the coolest place on the planet. You know, what with all the server fans." She nodded. "Uh huh." "How are you not more excited?" He couldn't stop himself from skipping as they rounded the next corner, and didn't really try. "We're in the money shot of a hacker's dream!" He had no idea how he was going to make it through the orientation seminars Marroquin had signed him up for. He couldn't imagine how they'd be able to tear him away from his technoorgasmia and haul him back to dull and dreary Canada; he'd seen the machines they had at Site-43, and there was no polite comparison to be made. "I've been here before." She pointed at a set of glass double doors; the letters //AIAD// were mounted over the lintel in a //sans serif// font, with no further explication in evidence. "This is my exit." Marroquin stopped walking, and gave her a look of appraisal with semantics Lyle couldn't quite read. For a moment, he wondered whether his new boss was having sex with his girlfriend; then Eileen shivered, despite the warm wool of her technician's hoodie, and he knew they were on the same page about Marroquin. He gave them both the creeps. The thought was not as much relief as it should have been. "Fine," Marroquin said finally. "But meet us back at the dorms when you're done. There's a primer on FortWAN I expect you to attend this evening." She nodded. Marroquin and Lyle moved forward again, and Eileen broke off. Was it just his imagination, or did some of his spring come into her step as she passed through the first portal? He probably would have lingered on the thought a little longer, if the next turn hadn't brought them in view of the main server hall. Half his imagination and fully two thirds of his ambition could have fit snugly within, side by side. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashblank"]] [[=]] + ##669933\|1996## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-12 Site-12]: South Brent, Dartmoor, England, United Kingdom[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- It didn't seem precisely fair to Harold Blank that he should have to pass another examination. One of the best things about defending your doctoral thesis was the knowledge that finally, after decades of tightly-timed torture, you had reached the end of exams. And defence itself was more of a conversation between colleagues; once you'd gotten that far, everyone involved was far too invested in your success to try and catch you out. His comprehensive exams or "comps" had been much the same, minus the part where he'd been expected to be able to converse intelligently on any item from a list of papers and monographs so lengthy that there were enough for every day of the year, with a few more months to spare. The last really difficult test he'd taken was to prove he could read French with the aid of a dictionary, and to his shock and shame, the time limit had triggered a panic attack and he'd ended up throwing the paper out rather than handing it in. He'd been forced to take a month-long course as an alternative qualification. That had taught him something about himself: he was done being mindful of such mundane concerns as the time of day and how quickly it changed. From that moment on he resolved to set his own schedule, sleep when he wanted, eat when he wanted, and work on what he wanted to work on. His comps fields. His dissertation. They were defined by his decisions. And yet somehow, despite the fact that it had turned out his dissertation committee members all worked for the SCP Foundation, despite the fact that his supervisor had been actively recruiting him, despite the fact that he'd even managed to sneak a little anomalous history into his work, now that he was starting at Archives and Revision he was expected to take another goddamn test. So here he was, deep in the bowels of Site-12's library, the bailiwick of the Foundation's Department of History, burning through yet another reading list. He wouldn't be expected to write another thesis or take any courses, but he //did// have to pass another exam, a sort of compensatory comps to make up for the fact that he'd never read anything of the annals on the other side of the Veil of Normalcy. They called them the Supplementary Exams, or 'sups'. Today he was supping on accounts of all six Occult Wars. Yesterday he'd examined the secret history of the Global Occult Coalition. Tomorrow he'd be looking into the various national Foundation precursors. It was -- and this was astonishing -- actually kind of tedious. He wanted to be back at Site-43. He wanted to gush at his best friend about the insanity of their new job. He wanted to flirt with his best friend's girlfriend. He wanted to find out if //Titanic// really had been sunk by a reality-bending novelist. "It's been a while," a woman's voice cut through his self-absorption, "but I don't remember McNally on //Obskurakorps// being all that engrossing." Judith Low was standing at the end of the stacks. She was one of the department's senior researchers, and in charge of the Site-71 leg of his paracademic journey. He closed the book and nodded at her. "Yeah, he kinda sucks. Bad writer." "Most academics are. And we have a smaller sample size, so we're lucky if any of the talented ones are aligned with our interests. But," and she approached him in the middle of the aisle, "you're not really meant to be having fun with this. You're meant to get as much of it in your head as possible, and move on." He frowned. "Shouldn't I be trying to pass with flying colours?" "No, you should be trying to be //done.// Jump through the hoops, then start doing your own work. Advance our knowledge, and your career." He leaned on the nearest shelf. "What if there's something in here I need to know, some day, and I //don't// know it, because I rushed through?" "There will be, and you can't change that fact. You can't know everything. You can't prepare forever. Eventually you need to accept that things will never be fully perfect, and you have to meet reality with whatever preparation you already have." She gestured down the endless row of stacks. "If you expect us to test you on every book down here, I hope you've got some means of living forever." He placed the book in his backpack. "Point taken." She gave him a strange look. "Was it?" She pointed at the bag. "You were meant to take your sups last week. I'm not going to quiz you on McNally's footnotes, you know." He fought the urge to wince. "I just want to make sure I know the arguments, is all." She turned around, bent down, and returned to standing with a slim volume printed on larger paper. "There's a book review in here. Read that instead. I'm scheduling you for tomorrow, Harry." He did wince. "I just don't think I'm ready." "Good." She took the bag out of his hands, returned //The Audacity of Konrad Weiss// to the shelf, and slid the journal in before pushing it into his arms again. "You'll want to get used to that feeling." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashwet"]] [[=]] + ##6666FF\|1997## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-333 Site-333]: Atlantic City, New Jersey, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- It wasn't like being called to the principal's office. Even if they wouldn't admit it, most high schoolers held the principal in something like awe. They recognized that authority, whether they respected it or not, was respected by society and could meaningfully impact their lives. They knew the principal had authority because people with even more authority trusted their judgment and discretion. It wasn't like being called to the principal's office at all. "Bilbo." Vincent Bohart, Director of Site-333, tucked his cheap tie against his cheap shirt as he sat down behind his cheap desk. "I hope the hairs on your feet are standing up right now, because you are walking in the //shit.//" William Wettle made no effort to disentangle the nickname, the reference, or the metaphor. Half of what Bohart said was for Bohart's own benefit. He simply blinked. The balding administrator picked up a file that was probably Wettle's, though neither of them would know until he started reading it. If it had been left there while Wettle waited as a test, well. It wouldn't be the first time someone had overestimated his initiative. Bohart scanned the whole thing while Wettle sat there, because he didn't respect anyone's time. This was fair; nobody was assigned to 333 if their time was worth respecting. He grunted a few times, his eyes widened twice (so that briefly he almost looked awake), and once he chuckled so dryly that he actually noticed how dry it sounded and took a sip of coffee from a mug that hadn't moved in at least two days, so that he could finish the chuckle wetly. It didn't improve the sour look on his face. Finally he dropped the papers and fixed Wettle with a bleary, constipated stare. "You," he said slowly, the drama totally lost on his audience, "are a fuckup." Wettle had been told this in far more intimate situations. It barely registered as an insult. "Your closure rate is the worst on your team. You've damaged enough company property to wipe out your own salary if we held it against you." Wettle didn't read body language well, but he instinctively understood Bohart enough to know why that item put a gleam in the other man's eye. "You score below par on every performance metric, even the ones we made up specifically so our people could pass one or two. You're the subject of what might be the only class action HR complaint in human history. You've been stealing potato chips from me." Wettle bristled behind his bristly beard. "I have not! That wasn't me! But I should have. They're always stale!" Bohart bought junk food in bulk at bargain bin prices and set up a till in the breakroom for honor system payments. Everyone knew perfectly well, even without knowing precisely where, that there was a camera fixed on the register. Bohart brushed it off. "Just testing. I know you haven't got the imagination to jostle the coins and pretend. But at least that would tell me you've got a functioning brain, man. You haven't achieved a single thing since you started here. You're bringing the place down, and that's not an easy thing to do." "Are you firing me?" "Not as long as I can expense the damage you do. We're getting some fancy new equipment, and everyone thinks I'm a genius for bringing you in to 'accidentally' break the old stuff. Don't disillusion them, and I'll keep signing your cheques. But Billybob," and a wholly foreign expression came over Bohart's face, seemingly foreign to Bohart himself, "don't you ever, uh, want to actually amount to anything? Don't you want to be good at something? Anything? At all?" [[=image DL_43_03_Wettle_Review.jpg]] Wettle considered this for a moment. A moment too long. When he no longer fully remembered what the question had been, he tried to cover with a placid, empty smile. Bohart smiled back so emptily that his teeth retreated from his lips. "Go break something," he said, and then he retched into his waste paper bin. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="udoflashback"]] [[=]] + ##FF950E\|1998## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/hecatoncheires-cycle-hub Site-91]: Yorkshire, England, United Kingdom[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- The package of emotions was full, arrived without warning, and burst open all at once. Confusion, indignance, shame, anger, embarrassment. On the face of things the unassuming woman who sat down beside her on the bench was an absurd trigger for a personal cataclysm, and even as it played out over her own guileless face, Udo Okorie recognized this. //Confusion.// The woman was Iona Varga, Director of Site-91. She had never come to the little garden behind the Georgian manor to sit with Udo before. Why would she? No trainee merited such a response from a woman with so many more pressing responsibilities. And no-one but Udo's mother knew she was out here... //Indignance//, unexamined as it set the shape of her jaw, because Varga began to speak. "Are you alone by choice, miss Okorie?" Udo shrugged. It felt vaguely insubordinate, and she immediately regretted it. The moment it took her to consider her response was enough to recognize why she was indignant: her mother had sent the Site Director after her. The //Site Director.// "I'm not very good company right now, ma'am." Varga nodded. "It can feel like an act of charity to remove yourself from the presence of others, when that happens. More often than not, though, it makes whatever is wrong much worse." //Shame.// Her mother had sent the Site Director to //lecture// her. The immature, disappointing prodigy who would never do what she was told. "I wasn't being charitable. I'm not feeling charitable about her right now." This line of conversation did nothing to alleviate the sense of nervous guilt. Varga raised an eyebrow. "Her?" //Anger.// Was she supposed to pretend this was anything but a dressing-down for her behaviour? Was she expected to endure the older woman's judgement //and// maintain the fiction that it was only being levelled casually, by chance, friendly advice on a sunny day? "My mother. We fought. I'm assuming..." She trailed off, unable to complete the thought. The emotions were not sequential; anger rose, but shame still ruled. Varga seemed to hear the missing words anyway. "Perhaps I'm simply observant. You're not the least memorable of your cohort, and I have some experience with..." Now it was her turn to trail off, glancing down at the bench, then up at the manor with an expression Udo couldn't read. Truth be told, she couldn't read most expressions. //Embarrassment.// This was turning both awkward and maudlin. Varga was only trying to help, whatever had impelled her here to begin with. "Thank you for asking, ma'am. I appreciate it. I just needed to get some fresh air for a change." Varga tugged at the collar of her plain grey sweater. "That's a good instinct. Biologically rooted. Your body wants an exchange of bad inputs for good. Keeps things from going all muggy inside. Lets you see more clearly." A new emotion. //Uncertainty.// Something was obviously meant by these musings, but Udo couldn't tell what. "I see pretty clearly, I think. Even with the glasses." Varga looked through the lenses at her. The younger woman's flashing orange eyes -- she could never control the inner light when she became emotional -- were reflected in the older's dark brown. "I should hope so. I should hope you can see through your own deceptions." //Ruefulness.// The glasses served only to occlude that amber glow. "Deception is a strong word. Sometimes I just don't want people to notice things." Varga smiled. It parsed as more of a frown. "Another act of mistaken charity. It's better to share your burdens, when you can, and your gifts as well." Udo sighed. She didn't know what emotions she was feeling now. "I'm not very good at that kind of perspective." The Director stood. "The beauty of perspective," she said, looking at Udo sitting on the bench but not, perhaps, precisely seeing her, "is that it changes when you move." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="jandm"]] [[=]] + ##CC9900\|1999## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- The wave of wires parted, and a pudgy face smudged with black rubber marks emerged. "What?" Romolo Ambrogi tapped David Markey's upturned nose with the tip of his screwdriver. "You've been in there for an hour, man. We need help out here." Markey squinted over Ambrogi's shoulder. The new hires were hefting big cardboard boxes full of floor and wall tiles, or else bent over double to grout them in place; the new Inter-Sectional Subway station at Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-D was the finishing touch on the facility's top-down revamp. "Looks pretty much under control from where I'm standing. And, you know. Bad knees." "No," Ambrogi said. "I do not know. Explain it to me again. I want to see what version you use." Markey somehow managed to look offended. "I would never lie to the Deputy Chief of Jerking and Moaning. I'm too professional for that." Watching them from the ticket booth, only half glassed-in so far, Nascimbeni found himself smiling. He should probably have done something about the skiving, and the jibes. Probably some day he would. One of the green technicians, a baby-faced man named Azad Banerjee, approached the pair from the turnstiles. He was pushing a heavy tool cart in front of him. "Boss wants to know when we'll be ready to start up the electrics." Banerjee, at least, was performing with something like alacrity. He had a future here. For some reason, Nascimbeni suddenly remembered finishing a weld on the redundant sub doors at Site-246. It was enough of a //non-sequitur// that he dismissed it, dividing his attention instead between the inspection report he was filling out and the casual altercation across the way. Markey pointed at Ambrogi with his nose, his arms hidden somewhere in the tangle of cables they would shortly be blocking up behind yet another concrete and tile wall. "Depends on the foreman here, and whether he thinks of something better to do than micromanage my hard work." "Your hard work." Ambrogi plucked at the twist-on wire connectors closest to hand, clearly hoping against hope to find something wrong with them. Of course, there wasn't. One of Markey's worst qualities was being good at things that let him set his own pace, and avoid heavy lifting. "Can you give me an estimate of how much longer your hard work will take?" The old sluggard pretended to calculate. "Depends. When will the tiling be done out there?" Nascimbeni knew the desire to lie was strong, but there was no way to justify providing bad information. If anything, anything at all went wrong in the near vicinity of the Site's most advanced waste processing facility, the shit that hit its fans would stick to everyone in their little underground community, and no amount of showering would ever fully clean it off. He briefly made eye contact with his deputy, and saw the resignation on the younger man's face as he realized how this would inevitably end. "About two hours," Ambrogi said. "We'll need to stop for the day before they amp up the outflow conduits, because that'll crank the humidity too high for the grout to set." Markey nodded, and disappeared into the partition as he delivered his response: "Should be about two hours, then." Ambrogi shook his head. "Probably an hour and fifty minutes," Banerjee remarked as he walked past the booth again, cart now in tow. "So he has time to grab a coffee, then wander over and tell us we did the tiling wrong." Nascimbeni almost laughed. Instead, he said "You can talk shit about Markey when you're half the electrician he is." "From what I can see, boss, he's not gonna put up much competition." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashblank"]] [[=]] + ##669933\|2000## [[/=]] ----- "Surely, Dr. Blank, you have //evidence// for such an outrageous claim." Harry snorted softly. "Dr. Bradbury, every account of this man's life is a wealth of such evidence. Look here." He pushed a little yellow sheaf across the workgroup desk. "In the private papers. He says he was visited by 'an emissary of the stars', who convinced him to change his ways. A 'creature of perfect liberty'. He says it spoke to him in every language of mankind, and even when he didn't understand the words, he grokked the meaning." "Grok," Melissa Bradbury croaked as she paged through the papers. "Grok." "And the very next day, doctor," Harry continued, suppressing a smile, "he changed his name to Amor de Cosmos." //Lover of the universe.// "British Columbia's Father of Confederation had some sort of alien or otherwise anomalous visitation, and it left him touched. He was never quite sane again." "Okay, doctor," Melissa nodded, dropping the sheaf and shoving a small binder in his direction, "but if a little grey man made him love the universe, and freedom, and all those good things, how come he fought against indigenous land grants?" "Maybe his human mind wasn't ready for the force that touched it, //doctor.// Maybe," and he paused for a moment as Melissa picked up her remaining research materials and walked around the table towards him, "maybe it drove him insane. You know he was terrified of electricity, burst into tears for no reason, //changed his name to Amor de Cosmos//..." She sat down beside him, dropping the files between them in a heap on the table. "Don't you think it's more likely, //doctor,// that he was just racist, like pretty much all the other Fathers of Confederation? And that this might conflict with your theory that some entity of universal peace and love," she approximated Ringo Starr's accent, and this time he had no choice but to smile, "made him into its prophet?" Harry reached in front of her to snatch up the topmost file. "I'm convinced, //dear,//" and he began speaking more quickly, both to cover up the change in terminology and avoid considering whether or not it had been intentional, "that everything in here points to a man converted to the cause of human liberty by an esoteric intervention." Melissa reached out and flicked him in the forehead. "If that were the case, //dear,// you would think we'd see evidence of further visitations in the historical record. But this is only the first." "Exactly, //dear,// it's only the first. That's how patterns work. One single, unlikely outlier at the outset, because you can't skip right to having multiple data points. You understand the concept of linear progression, //dear?//" "Double dear," she mused. "Oh dear, he's getting defensive." The look on her face was... He stood up. "Told Eileen I'd meet her for lunch." He didn't even look at his watch; he knew it was half past eleven at best. [[=image DL_43_04_Bradbury_Smile.jpg]] Melissa smiled as though all of this were completely normal and natural. "Tell her I said hello. She ignores me when I do it myself." He nodded, refusing to think about that too deeply, either. "Okay. See you in an hour." She nodded back, flipped open a folio, and started reading. He could see the relaxation of posture that signified her signature drifting off into contemplative space. "Bring me back a granola bar." "I will," he said, and as he reached the door, he chanced to finish the promise with a final, pointed "//dear.//" [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashyhammer"]] [[=]] + ##C5000B\|2001## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/antimemetics-division-hub Site-41]: Central Colorado, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- Lillian didn't notice it immediately. There were many things wrong with Site-41, and they divided her attention into so many fragments that she barely heard the guard's instructions as he tried to ferry her toward her contact's office. There was something wrong with the foyer. There was something wrong with the elevator. There was something wrong with several of the people she passed as they moved deeper into the facility. There was something wrong with the ways in which these things were wrong, because she couldn't drill down to anything like specificity in any single case. That spot over there was wrong, and that spot over there as well. At one point she stepped over nothing as though it were something, and the guard looked at her like she was crazy, and she wondered if perhaps she was. But she noticed //it,// the first thing that was wrong which she could point to, point //at,// which she did point at, just before they arrived at their destination. Indicating the mass of black towering above the distant trees with her long index finger, she said: "Where did that come from?" The guard replied: "Prefab, like all the other windows. This is her office here, ma'am." Torn between irritation and admiration -- most guards wouldn't have turned a misunderstanding into a passable joke, but she really would have preferred an actual response -- she waved the man away. "Awesome. Thanks. Goodbye." She didn't get the chance to knock on the door, because it opened before the guard was out of sight. A petite woman with wild black hair emerged from the office; Lillian could easily see its contents over her head, and they suggested both an orderly mind and a lack of sentimentality. A good start. The little agent extended a hand. "Marion Wheeler." Lillian enveloped it in her own. "The one that got away." She paused. "Me, that is. That's who I am." Wheeler blinked. "Our loss, I'm sure. Could we do this on the way to the commissary, or is it sensitive? I need a coffee soon, or I'll need a cigarette later." "Suits me." Lillian started heading back toward the entrance; she'd seen enough of the signage to know which way they were headed. She pointed over Wheeler's head at the obelisk, still insisting on existing out the window, and asked: "What's that?" Wheeler looked impressed. "That's something you shouldn't be able to see unless you've worked here for a long time, or you're on drugs we haven't cleared for general use." "Hooray for me. You seem like the sort to read a person's file when they ask for a meeting, so you probably know what my deal is." "Yes, I understand you have an eidetic memory, but that shouldn't be sufficient. We should run a few tests before you leave, I'd be interested to see what's going on with your brain chemistry." They turned a corner, and the tower vanished. She fancied she could still sense the outline of where it stood, but that was probably... //true, actually. Weird things don't follow normal rules.// "I like how you keep ending your parts of the conversation without answering my question." "It's a tombstone for an entire race of beings," Wheeler explained, as though she were describing the purpose of a cubicle block. "We could take a walk out there, if you'd like more privacy for this conversation." Lillian shook her head. "One mystery at a time, and that one seems pretty stationary. Let's talk about the one I brought with me. Do you know a memeticist by the name of Bernabé Del Olmo?" [[=image DL_43_05_Wheeler_Meet.jpg]] Wheeler stopped walking. Lillian stopped a moment later, so she could step in front of the smaller woman and look down her nose at her. Wheeler wrinkled her own nose, sighed, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her suit pocket. "So much for the commissary. We really are going to need that privacy." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="generic"]] [[=]] + ##5D5D5D\|2002## [[/=]] ---- LeClair smiled wistfully as she passed her penlight from pupil to pupil. "I remember social studies. It was fun! I made up a diorama of the Battle of the Somme." She chuckled. "The official version, anyway." "Emilié." Helena Forsythe kept her voice low, low enough that hopefully her daughter wouldn't hear it. She was standing behind LeClair as the latter finished up the examination. The doctor glanced back at her, blinking in confusion, before suddenly appearing to realize her //faux pas.// It wasn't accepted procedure to allude to the existence of the Occult Wars in front of a ten-year-old civilian. Her presence within the Site was already the result of questionable decision making, and the more potential questions there were, the higher the odds that someone would start asking. Luckily, in a sense, Billie wasn't even listening. She was sitting on the examination table with her arms crossed and her lips in a perpetual pout. In combination with her mother's gnarly nose, it made her look like an angry gremlin. "Anyway," LeClair smiled, an extra flush of enthusiasm in her bedside measure pasting over the momentary gaffe, "I don't think it's anything neurological. Your first instincts were probably correct, but it didn't hurt to bring her in." In truth, LeClair was probably getting a little fed up with having to examine her head nurse's daughter every few weeks. But Helena didn't trust her own instincts, no matter how often they were talked up by her mentor, and she trusted the doctors in Grand Bend even less. They only knew what the Foundation allowed them to know about the practice of medicine. LeClair had access to anomalous technologies, techniques, and diagnoses that could make the difference between catching something early and catching it after the point of no recourse. Helena knelt in front of her daughter, not bothering to attempt eye contact since she knew it wouldn't be forthcoming. "I'm going to talk to your aunt for a moment outside, okay? Be good while we're gone." By way of response, Billie reached into her hooded sweatshirt and produced her fancy pearlescent Game Boy. Helena had put in enough argument time to know that the volume would be dialled down, so she took LeClair by the shoulder and moved them both out of the examination room and into the halls of Health and Pathology. LeClair spoke first, as she usually did. "She's a child, Lena. Children misbehave." "She doesn't have any friends. Her grades are terrible. She won't talk to me about anything. All she does is sulk." LeClair nodded. "Yes, she does sound like a normal, healthy teenager." Seeing the look on Helena's face, LeClair held her by the shoulders of her surgical scrubs and squeezed. "I understand why you're worried. You're a good mother. But she's going to turn out just fine. How soon does she graduate?" There was a moment's pause, during which LeClair's eyes unfocused, refocused, and settled into a squint over the deep bags below them. She outraced Helena's baffled response by mere moments. "No, I know, she's only ten years old. It's been a long day. Shift's almost over. I'll check the recording, make sure we didn't say anything we'd need to Class-A, and we can give her the transit drugs so you can take her home." The pit that opened up in Forsythe's gut prevented an immediate response, and LeClair took the opportunity to slip through the door to the hidden observation room. It was probably just as well; given the older woman's peaked condition, it would have been aggressively impolite to remind her that Class-A amnestics interacted violently with Billie's asthma. It was just exhaustion talking. Obviously she remembered. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashboss"]] [[=]] + ##990099\|2003## [[/=]] ----- He was too much the HR man to ever do such a thing -- physical contact in the workplace was almost never remotely acceptable -- and the world's most metaphorically dense pane of glass prevented it anyway, but it was nevertheless difficult not to want to hug Ilse Reynders right now. Allan McInnis was not a tall man, but it would be easy (were it not impossible) to envelop those narrow shoulders in his arms and provide some manner of comfort to the quivering mess which was, simultaneously, the most outrageously intelligent person he had ever known. He wondered if his own antipathy to physical contact would have changed if he'd been deprived of the opportunity for sixty years and counting. Ilse was doing what she did when the distance between her prison and the outside world seemed particularly vast, both hands pressed up against the glass. He mirrored the gesture; when action is impossible, any good administrator knows that symbolism is vital. The sensors on his side of the Anomalous Documents Disposal Chamber picked up the minute vibrations in the glass, and the overhead speakers relayed what she was saying with near-crystal clarity. She would hear his responses as a muffled mumbling, and there was nothing anyone could do about that at all, not even symbolically. "She just left," Ilse was saying. There were thick bags under her eyes. They waxed and waned as the day went on, as the stress of what she was seeing drove her to distraction and the homeostasis of her counterchronological cell reverted the flesh to baseline in an endless cycle. "We're going to turn AAF-A into a supercomputer, so we can hack the comms relays." McInnis nodded. Ilse had been relaying information of this flavour for days, explaining how Udo Okorie, Imrich Sýkora and Brenda Corbin were conducting a resistance operation against a hostile force occupying Site-43's only topside structure. She talked about faceless men and women formed out of glowing oil, mind-wiped personnel staggering about aimlessly like satiated zombies, and a force that battered on the doors of consciousness until it found one unlocked, and invaded the seat of reason. She talked about watching helplessly from behind the glass as everyone who worked in Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-A either went insane or was murdered, about the massive wave from Lake Huron which had weakened the building's foundations and collapsed much of the access to her chamber, about a wide variety of things which of course had not actually happened, and she could not actually be seeing. The problem was, she wasn't crazy. He'd had the psych people on Ilse's case from the start. They already monitored her regularly, since her mental state was sensitive to even minor shifts in fortune by this phase of her long, strange life, but now she was being watched around the clock. She understood where she was. She remembered //who// she was, and who everyone else was as well. If someone walked up to her window, she would speak with them. If she was asked questions, she would answer. She was still performing her assigned duties, calling out instructions from behind the glass, requesting access to academic journals or having researchers type queries into the SCP database for her. But at the same time all of this was happening, she was watching an entirely different drama unfold, and reacting as though she were a part of it. As much as she was a part of the world McInnis could see and hear, anyway. Two worlds, and she couldn't touch either of them. She dropped her hands to her sides, and smiled manically up at him. For the first few days, she'd bloodied her head against the glass in a manic frenzy. She was calmer now, a month after the onset, but no less harried by the counterapocalyptic visions. [[=image DL_43_06_Reynders_Insane.jpg]] It was at least comforting that in this putative alternate reality, their side seemed to be winning. He only wished he could say the same about baseline. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="udoflashback"]] [[=]] + ##FF950E\|2004## [[/=]] ---- "It's a very good likeness." Dr. Daniel Asheworth, thaumaturge and co-Director of Site-120, paced around the sandy red simulacrum of his form with a look somewhere between awe and discomfort on his face. "Is it breathing?" He pressed a hand to the sand-man's chest, and smiled. "It //is// breathing. I suspect that's your breathing?" Across the room, Udo made eye contact with Asheworth and theatrically held her breath. She even ballooned her cheeks out. Asheworth's hand continued to track the respiration of the golem she had made. He actually laughed out loud, then clapped his hands together in appreciation. "That's amazing. Really very good work." Udo was standing at one end of the antiseptic containment chamber, her notes and reagents pouch on a small rolling table to her left. The effigy and the original of Asheworth stood together in the centre of the room, and her dissertation committee sat behind their table at the far end: Adrijan Zlatá and Stacey Laiken. The intervening space was filled with a gauzy red shroud, a filter of particulate matter which represented for Udo a fifty-fifty blend of scientific and magical thinking. She would argue this was to ensure complete control over her creation, if anyone asked; really, it just was a way of feeling she had control over her dissertation defence. From a certain point of view -- hers -- she //was// the room. Everyone else was just occupying it. Inside of her. [[=image DL_43_07_Okorie_Test.jpg]] This reminded her rather forcefully of certain regrettable workplace pursuits, and she flushed furiously. The effigy did not react. She had learned a great deal about focus over the last few years. Asheworth pulled a pair of rune-laced gloves from his coat pocket, and put them on. He pressed his hands against the golem's forehead and the ribcage over its heart, and said: "I am going to try and take control, with your permission. You may withhold permission, and we will find another way to test this, but--" "You have my permission," she said. The golem's lips didn't move. She pursed hers, and added impishly: "Good luck." Asheworth smiled, pressed harder, and closed his eyes. The runes on the glove flashed, and //she was weeping, inconsolable, over a body rapidly drained of life. Brown eyes looked up at her, innocent, loving, filled with pain. She knew what she was going to do, and she knew that she shouldn't, but// //she was kneeling in a vast hemispherical chamber, gloves pressed to the floor, runes dancing madly as a spear of brilliant orange, --the colour of her eyes--, formed beneath her hands, and she// //stood accused by a kangaroo court of things she had not done, could not have done, and at what was to be the final moment of her life, the snuffing of her flame, against all sense and reason she// //stood at the precipice, the task incomplete, and knew that --he-- --he-- --he-- she could do what needed to be done, but nothing needed to be done at all,// because she was not Daniel Asheworth and these memories were not hers. The golem hadn't moved an inch; in her rush of triumph, she made it grin. Asheworth's face showed the strain of his concerted efforts to wrest it from her control. He relaxed, wiped the sweat from his brow, and grinned back at himself with genuine pleasure, then at her. "That," he said, "was magnificent." He tapped the golem's forehead. "That's my brain, mapped precisely in every detail, and still you kept me out of it. I judge your project a complete success." Laiken's smile was like cotton candy in the sun as she heard the external examiner's verdict. Zlatá didn't really react, though the fact that he stood up was for him the equivalent of leaping up and down, and he approached the golem at a slow and steady gait. "One final test," he said, and as he neared the centre of the room Udo felt momentarily ill at ease. "Please keep the effigy intact for as long as you can." He reached down to fiddle with the watch on his wrist. He stepped between her and the self that was neither her nor Asheworth, the Polish thaumaturge watching his Croatian counterpart curiously, and when her line of sight was blocked she gasped, and shook, and cried out in shock as her skin broke out in goose pimples, and an endless age later the thing exploded in a cloud of red sand. Zlatá pressed his watch again, and raised the dial up to his bleary, squinting eyes. "Six seconds," he remarked evenly. "Remarkable. Congratulations indeed, Dr. Okorie." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashwet"]] [[=]] + ##6666FF\|2005## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##990011\|Interstate 10##: Outside Pensacola, Florida, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- No matter which way he turned the dial, he couldn't seem to change the channel. Wettle knew he shouldn't mess with the radio while he was behind the wheel, but whatever this show was, it was driving him to distracted driving. It was some sort of game show, but he couldn't understand what the host was talking about, and there didn't seem to be any players. As he cranked the dial to the left, the host catcalled: "You're terrible at this! Absolutely terrible! My producer told me you have a PhD. Was she lying to me? Jerry, get her on the horn. I want to know if she was lying to me about this idiot's PhD." As he cranked the dial to the right, a female voice chimed in: "I wasn't lying, Jeremy. He's got degrees in history and chemistry, if you can believe it." The host, apparently Jeremy, laughed like a sick donkey at this information. "Chemistry?! You'd never know it, looking at //his// love life. And let me tell you, we've been looking. Jerry, can you call up the--" Wettle smacked the radio, managing to catch the power button in the dark by pure and uncommon good luck. The merciful silence, a fair trade for the sudden flare of pain from his knuckle, lasted maybe five seconds before a voice spoke directly into the hairs of his neck: "They're not wrong about your love life." There was construction ahead on the I-10, because of course there was, so when Wettle swerved madly off the road and onto the unpaved shoulder, he did so at merely ten (god-fearing and Customary) miles per hour, gliding to a stop without disrupting the night-time traffic by a single Toyota. He spun in his seat, wrenching shoulder and neck very badly and tangling his seatbelt up around his neck, and managed a choking half-exclamation of shock and fear. Then, like a cat which has fled madly at an unfamiliar sound, he gradually realized he had heard it before, and it wasn't precisely a threat. Though it wasn't precisely //not,// either. Alis Rydderech leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. He writhed out of the seatbelt, with some effort, and spun in the bucket seat so that his knees pressed into the fabric. "What are you doing in my car?!" "Feeling badly-used," she smirked at him. He bumped the dome light controls with the back of his head, and in the sudden illumination saw she was dressed for warm weather travel, which was more distracting than the radio show had been, and that her face was a thin mask of amusement over a deeply-etched rictus of stress. He didn't notice the thing about her face until it started talking again. "Why didn't you introduce me to your parents? I thought we had something." "You tried to kill me." He reached up to rub his sore muscles, managing with some effort to make the soreness worse. "You slept with me, and then you tried to kill me. That makes us..." He frowned. "I want to say 'even', but that doesn't seem right." "Don't most people who sleep with you want to kill you?" she asked sweetly, though the lines on her face and the bags under her eyes made it more of a sickly sort of sweetness. "I hear your last wife--" "Why are you here, Alis?" She looked a little surprised. Perhaps she'd expected him to have forgotten her name; if so, he was still setting expectations the way he liked it, so that was a plus. "I wanted to tell you something. All of you, really, but I think only you would listen to me. Everyone else," she sighed, "they think I'm an escaped terrorist, or something. Imagine that!" "I'm imagining it," he agreed. [[=image DL_43_08_Alis_Car.jpg]] She scooted forward, and he resolutely kept his eyes on hers. The resolve wasn't very firm, unlike... //He kept his eyes on hers.// "William, dear, I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise not to fix the Breach." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashdel"]] [[=]] + ##2B5FB3\|2006## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- Udo drew a finger along the edge of the panel, and a thin trickle of dust fell away before the entire thing shifted away from the wall. Ibanez reached into the hidden space, and drew out the dossier again. They sat at the kitchenette table, and reviewed what little they'd learned since the last time the file had seen the fluorescent light of day cycle. Ibanez had already cracked a beer. "The Temporal Anomalies Department," Udo began. "I think we're pretty solid on what that is, now." Ibanez grunted. "What?" "The Foundation answers to time cops who live outside of time, who're only partially answerable to the Overseers. All of the Overseers, from all the Foundations, across the timeplane. And when you emailed the //local// time cops, the ones we know about, the TAD butted in and said you were following a dead end. That's what we've arrived at." "Yes." "Meaning Dougall Deering's murder is a matter of //multiversal importance.//" Udo sighed. "Don't ask me why that makes any sense. Or, I don't know, maybe do ask me. Maybe if we keep asking each other, we'll figure it out." "Maybe once I've had a few more drinks." Ibanez slid a thin folio into the larger one, and pressed on them both until they stayed open. "This is from just this morning. List of everyone Dougall had privileged phone conversations with." Udo furrowed her brow. "Privileged?" "As in kept secret to everybody but the Director, under his privilege as Chair of AO." Applied Occultism was a contentious field in the anomalous community, even within the Foundation, and its practitioners were extended certain special security considerations. Not that they'd prevented him from dropping dead of an apparent psychic attack in the Breach of 2002... "He had chats off the record with a few people, but the only one that matters is Adrijan Zlatá." Udo complemented the furrow with a frown. "Why would he talk to Zlatá off the record? They worked in the same Section, at the same Site." She paused. "And how did you get these records, if they're Director's eyes only? Did Allan...?" Ibanez gave her a look. Udo was getting good at reading Ibanez's looks. This one said //Don't ask that question,// and to her credit, she didn't. "Okay, never mind. I //guess// it's a lead. Zlatá's just got to be clean, though, he's too old and boring to be into anything dirty... but maybe he knows something he hasn't contributed to the official report." Ibanez inclined her head in non-disagreement. Udo added a laminated duotang to the pile. "Everything we know about the empty containment chamber in Sublevel Four that isn't supposed to be there, like Sublevel Four itself. Pretty conclusive there's a connection between those chambers being empty, and what happened to Dougall. Something erased whoever lived in that room, and something killed my boss, too." The other woman didn't use possessives to refer to Deering often. For a while, Ibanez had preferred to call the departed doctor //your boyfriend// when speaking with Udo. She'd eventually noticed the effect that was having, and stopped. She could be considerate, if she got a run up at it. "Maybe the Breach was a cover for murder," she mused. "Maybe he was so important, somehow, that blowing up a whole Section was an acceptable distraction to draw off suspicion." "I don't want to even think about that." "Why not?" "Because if whoever killed him finds out we're still looking into it--" "They might blow up a whole Site to stop us. That's a fun thought, but thanks for having it. Duly noted." Ibanez rubbed her temples. "We're going to have to be a lot more careful from this point on, and not just because of that. Pensak's been nosing." Udo winced. "I still don't know why you keep that guy around. He's a creep." Roger Pensak was a highly competent member of Ibanez's security staff, hired by her on the recommendation of her alternate self; he'd been vital to getting them out of the first dead timeline alive, vital enough that Ibanez had left herself a note to that effect to get around the pesky fact that their memories of the other worlds followed those worlds into oblivion. "That's my business," Ibanez said. "But he's creeping around //ours,// so again, take care." Udo closed the file. "That's not a lot to show for a year's work. Or four years' work, for that matter." "It's not. But maybe the others will pull up something more relevant." They let that sit in the air for a moment. Neither of them was wholly comfortable with the fact that they'd never told the other five members of Sampi-5243 about their separate investigation, but given the stakes, it seemed better to involve as few of them as possible. After all, the survival of the timeline depended on //their// survival. "Well." Udo stood up. "The day's young. We could go talk to Zlatá, I guess." "We could," Ibanez agreed. "If he hadn't suddenly left the Site without notice this morning. Laiken's the new Chief of AO, and your boss." Udo blinked. "Still think he isn't up to something dirty?" [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashboss"]] [[=]] + ##990099\|2007## [[/=]] ----- Nhung Ngo clasped her beloved clipboard tightly, and smiled. There was a manila folder on the desk between them, labelled KAREN ELSTROM. It was precisely thick enough to contain one-sheet mandatory annual psych reviews going back to 1996, and nothing else. "I've got to admit, I'm pleased you made an appointment. I know how tough things have been for you lately." Karen gave her one inch of right brow, and nothing more. "Meaning?" Ngo blinked. "You've taken up a lot of administrative slack since Chief Skellicorne retired. Chief Mitchum doesn't know our people or situation nearly as well as Rory did. It's been a difficult transition, and you've borne most of the burden. I assumed that was what you wanted to talk to me about." Karen snorted. "You assumed wrong. I made an appointment because nobody looks into appointments the way they look into //meetings,// and this matter needs to be kept //sub rosa.// There's nothing wrong with me. I want to talk about Sampi-5243." Ngo's face closed up, the way most people's did when Karen spoke to them for any length of time these days. "See You In September. The Survivors." [[=image DL_43_09_Ngo_Unhappy.jpg]] "Director McInnis, Chiefs Nascimbeni and Ibanez, Drs. Lillihammer, Blank, Okorie and Wettle. Have we covered all the titles now? The subject is clearly established?" Karen was moderately satisfied when Ngo chose not to grace that with a response. "Good. I have a request from Overwatch Command regarding these persons, and I've given some thought as to how we might execute it, and this has brought me to you." Ngo set down the clipboard. "I think I need some extra clarity, actually. This is Overwatch going over the Director's head? He isn't aware of what you're doing?" "That's right." The comfortable chair Ngo reserved for her patients called out to Karen in a soothing voice. Her back ached, as did the muscles of her neck, and there was a dull throb behind her eyes. She responded by straightening further, and clenching her buttocks until they ached. She had no time to lounge around. There were personnel problems to resolve, and no better pair for synergizing a strategy than the two of them. She made her pitch. "Sampi-5243 have become very close since the Breach forced them together. They spend a great deal of time conferring, usually in Dr. Okorie's quarters. They fraternize. They keep counsel. They are becoming insular. The Overseers have expressed the opinion, and Overwatch has passed it along to me, that they may represent an interest bloc within Site-43 which is not wholly aligned with the interests of the Foundation at large." Eyes wide, Ngo shook her head. "You don't believe that." "I don't," Karen agreed. "And neither do you. So it's our job to convince the people who don't know them so well." "It sounds," Ngo said, slowly, making eye contact, "like it's //your// job, actually." Karen spared one of her increasingly rare, dazzling white smiles for the other woman. "I rank you, Dr. Ngo, and I am making it your problem too." The psychologist tapped the clipboard anxiously. "I'm not a spy." Karen laughed. "Who asked you to spy on anyone?" "Then what is it you want me to do?" "Spy on them, of course." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashyhammer"]] [[=]] + ##C5000B\|2008## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-wild-light Site-167]: ##F7F7F7\| ████████████ ████████ ███████##, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- "You're right." Wheeler nodded. "We don't combine these precautions often. Almost never, in fact. The use cases for both can be counted on one hand." Wheeler tapped each left hand digit with her right index finger, lingering for no clear reason on the thumb. "Hooray." Customarily Lillian would have said something more, something incisive or smug, to diminish the gravity that Wheeler and her colleagues were applying to this meeting. But she wasn't up to it, because there was a revolting, slimy //thing// lathered over her face, gripping the back of her skull with tentacles pulsing in tune with her somatic rhythm, and she was seeing out of its single bulbous eye instead of her own. The creature, as she understood it, was both a mental firewall and a kind of biological RAM, offshoring the memories she would otherwise be forming about whatever they were talking about today. The meeting was being held at Site-167, which Lillian had never heard of before. It was apparently the headquarters of the Antimemetics Division, which she had thought was Site-41. Also present in the room was Bartholomew Hughes, a known quantity in the realm of containment design; Michael Li, the Division's Director, which Lillian had rather thought was Wheeler's job; and Arik Euler, one of two memeticists who had trained her and the only one who was still alive. Though not, she thought, as she did every time she looked at him these days, perhaps for very much longer. She wouldn't be sorry to see that particular thought consigned to the incinerator when they took the germ off at the end of the meeting. Li clasped his hands together, and did not smile. There was something deliberate about the way he didn't smile. "We brought you here under the recommendation of Mrs. Wheeler. She's attested to your facility with memetics across all practical applications, and your unique mnemonic abilities." "Uh huh." Lillian glanced at Euler, and suppressed the urge to wink. It wouldn't work with just the one eye. "They're still mad Bernie snatched me up." Euler's germ moved in a way which suggested he might have been smiling with his eyes, but it was difficult to say for sure. He didn't respond. "For the record, such as it is," Wheeler interjected, "could you explain how your memory presently functions? Without... excessive elaboration, perhaps?" Lillian suppressed a chuckle. She imagined the germ ballooning out like an air bladder, and was once again grateful that it didn't cover her mouth. "I don't forget things. Literally can't. Even if it's impossible not to. Even if they haven't happened anymore. I have total cross-timeplane recall, and amnestics can't touch it. Not even the strong stuff." "Is that why we're in here, with these... things, on our faces?" Euler asked. His voice was weaker than Lillian remembered, but then, she hadn't seen him in nearly a year. //In here// was doing a lot of heavy lifting. Site-167's 'Vegas Room' was a biomechanical construction involving the corpse of an antimemetic giant, a luxurious meeting space hollowed out of its skull. Nothing so simple as a rogue phoneme could penetrate into the space they were presently occupying, and yet still they were wearing their mnemonic shields. Lillian was as curious as Euler as to why that would be remotely necessary; it was like wrapping a condom in Kevlar. "Not quite," Hughes piped up. "There is a topic tangential to what we're talking about today, a topic of extreme sensitivity, and we're in the final stages of figuring out precisely what to do about it. We're not going to go into details. There may be implication, however, and semantic associations, and even that will be taking a serious risk. This is the most important meeting you've ever been in." He sounded exhausted. Beaten-down. Depressed, even. "Well, as long as what happens in skull stays in skull, you mind telling me what you want from me now?" Li nodded. "There are hundreds of research bodies worldwide dedicated to the study of antimemetic phenomena. That we know of. Given that antimemetic phenomena are antimemetic--" "--you might not know of a whole lot more, because being forgettable sometimes rubs off on you." Lillian was more than familiar with the concept. Even as a specialist in plain old memetics, she had a set of dazzling labcoats designed with the sole purpose of keeping her memorable in the face of mnemonic corruption. "That's right. That's a problem, though not a major one. It might also be a solution." Wheeler picked up smoothly after Li finished. Lillian realized this had all been rehearsed. "We've consulted with Dr. Euler, and he believes you might be able to help us with the creation of certain... countermeasures." "Countermeasures to what?" "To what we're not going to talk about," Hughes sighed. "You don't need to know why," Marion resumed, "and that's good, because you won't. You won't be taking that information out of this room with you. You'll be taking the job, if you've chosen to accept it, and you'll have to live with not being able to figure out why you've done either of those things. That's the most crucial question here, actually: if you agree that you can't be allowed to know something, and we convey undeniable proof to you that this was the case, will you be able to stop yourself from looking into it?" Lillian moved her mouth silently around the syllables the other woman had so casually spun into a web of unnumbered negatives. "No," she decided. "Probably not. So you'll just put a memetic geas on me." A powerful enough thaumaturgic onus could override even her own insatiable curiosity. She glanced at Euler. "Which is why he's really here, because nobody else would be able to make it stick. Because I'm so smart." A smile twitched at the corners of Wheeler's lips. "I'm glad you agree with that part of the plan. Hopefully the rest will make just as much sense. You remember the hundreds of antimemetic research groups we just told you about?" Lillian tapped the squishy mass on her face. "No, but this thing does." Hughes snorted. "Well," Wheeler said, "we want you to organize more of them. A lot more of them. As many as possible. Actually, we //need// you to do this. Specifically you." "Why specifically me?" "Because these won't simply be antimemetic research groups, Dr. Lillihammer." Wheeler, who never smiled, nevertheless, smiled. "They'll be antimemetic antimemetic research groups." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="generic"]] [[=]] + ##5D5D5D\|2009## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- "I know you can hear me!" Brenda Corbin shouted, her voice carrying easily over the wind. Across the field, Udo Okorie pretended to pull her endless waterfall of maroon hair out of the raging gale, only coincidentally obscuring her eyes and ears as she walked away at a motivated clip. Brenda jogged to keep up, and then to close ground; their legs were about the same length, but the theologian was even more motivated than the thaumaturge. "You can hear through hair, Udo. Blank is living proof." Okorie stopped walking, and turned to face her. The wind immediately sent her hair flying out behind her, like a cape. If her wizardly vestments hadn't been cinched at the front, she would have had two capes. "I should have put my hood up," she admitted. "That would have been much more plausible." "I don't see why you're being so rude," Brenda grinned at her. "Are we strangers? Or are my ministrations really that obnoxious to you?" Ipperwash Park was lightly dusted with snow. Brenda wondered whether Okorie's magic would work on it, but pushed the question aside. It would consume her, if she allowed it to. She waited patiently for the response, which came only after the other woman had contorted her pretty face into a variety of different expressions, as though attempting to wring an answer out of herself. "Yes," she finally blurted. "They're obnoxious. I'm not going to talk to you about what I saw." Brenda refused to allow her energy to flag. She was close. She was very, very close. And she wanted to get even closer. "I'm not asking you to break your sacred vows, or NDAs, or whatever they put you through when you become a //bona fide// timeline traveller. I'm a Researcher in TheoTelo. You have been in //two// sustained encounters with theological entities. Interviewing you about that is now my telos. Allow me to achieve my purpose, Udo Okorie. Let's talk evil gods over dinner." She fluttered her eyelashes for emphasis. Okorie pulled her hair over her face. Brenda considered reaching out to brush it aside, or perhaps even blowing on it, but she suspected HR might have something to say about either of those actions, so instead, she tried psychology. "Why do you let it grow so long?" The whitening knuckles released, the colour flowing back into them as the hair flowed backward again. "What?" "Your hair. Why do you let it grow so long? It just gets in the way. Do you really need to hide from stuff so often that it's worth the back pain? You're carrying like a two-pound weight everywhere you go." "It's not //two pounds,//" Udo snapped, as though Brenda had just called her hair fat. "And I don't know. It's always been long. What does that have to do with anything?" "Well, Lillihammer won't tell me jack shit about the other timelines either. But what she //did// tell me is that by the time they were both over, you'd cut off all your hair." Okorie blinked. "Both times." "Both times?" "Yes." Okorie considered. "Is that supposed to mean something?" The wind suddenly shifted direction, and the space between them was filled with waving curls. "I think," Brenda said, "it means you need to learn something about surrendering to the inevitable. On that note, I know a lovely sushi bar in Grand Bend where--" [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="jandm"]] [[=]] + ##CC9900\|2010## [[/=]] ---- Nascimbeni winced as Forsythe adjusted the leads on his chest. "Not so rough!" The pug-nosed nurse gave him a withering glare, and for a moment he was reminded of Delfina Ibanez. The resulting mental conflict cut his protests short, and Forsythe finished her readings. "Not bad," she admitted. "But I don't think you hit your exercise target." "Those targets," he grumbled, "are absurd. I'm never going to be a long-distance runner. I spend most of my time on my back." He wasn't sure if he'd left her that opening to tease out a moment of levity, or if it had genuinely been an oversight. Years of working closely with Lillihammer and Blank had made him much more conscious of how his words might be twisted. But Forsythe, apparently, was in no mood. "You'll be spending all your time on your back, in a box, if you don't take those targets seriously. You're not getting any younger." "You say that," Nascimbeni sighed. "But those damn shots..." Forsythe already had the needle out. To his surprise, her hands were shaking. "Uh," he said. She swore. "Put your shirt on. I'll be right back." He retrieved his black turtleneck from the hook behind the examination table, then hopped off to follow her past the curtain and into the ward proper. She was nowhere to be seen. Billie Forsythe was sitting in a rolling chair, one of the ones the doctors sometimes used when they'd been on shift for a dozen hours and didn't trust their legs anymore, or wanted to conserve their energy. She was spinning in circles. The joy inherent to such an act was absent from her face, what little of it he could see behind the black raccoon makeup. She waved a neutral greeting at him, and he nodded. "Feeling better today?" She snorted. It seemed the most natural thing in the world from a Forsythe nose. "Fucking great. Every day's a gift from god." Billie Forsythe had been diagnosed with a rare and anomalous neurological disorder a few years prior. The cause was murky, though he suspected the girl's mother knew more than she was letting on. As a result, Billie now lived at Site-43. She wasn't happy about it. Probably nobody was. "Did you see where your mother went?" She turned her half-lidded eyes on him for a second, then glanced away. "Bathroom. Probably crying again." He considered this information carefully. "Again." "Yeah." "Why is she crying?" He suddenly realized that this was probably none of his business. Billie's perpetual sneer frown-shifted. "Because my aunt went nuts?" Nascimbeni vaguely understood this to refer to Emilié LeClair. He shrugged encouragingly. She continued the explanation, eyes widening with incredulity at his cluelessness. Nascimbeni blinked. It went on. He blinked again. She was staring at him now. "Guy, are you sure you actually work here?" "I //live// here," he retorted. "Sure." She went back to spinning her chair. "You and me both, that's what we call it." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ + ##990011\|2011## ++ 9 September [[/=]] ---- One tragedy of trauma is that relief becomes suspicious. When Harold Blank stepped into Operations Control at Site-43 on September the 9th, 2011 and was confronted with a smiling face assuring him that everything had gone to plan, time had in no way fractured, and he would be spared the horrors of another year spent labouring in the ruins of reality, he did not believe it. When he looked at the faces of his friends, he could see that they didn't believe it either. Lillian Lillihammer's bright blue eyes narrowed. Noè Nascimbeni's well-lined forehead creased. Delfina Ibanez looked angry. Udo Okorie looked confused. William Wettle looked confused too, but there was a good chance this wasn't in reaction to anything specific. Only Allan McInnis evinced no sign of distress. "Welcome back to baseline," the All-Sections Chief had said to them, and without missing a beat the Director replied, "Thank you. Status?" [[=image DL_43_10_ASC_Welcome.jpg]] The ASC gestured at the room full of technicians tapping away at their consoles, then at the big board where all the lights were green. "Nothing to report. Just a quiet day in September." McInnis nodded. Harry was staring at him, as were the other four self-aware members of their little group. Looking to him for guidance. It wouldn't have seemed suspicious; he was, after all, the supreme authority down here. "I would appreciate a written summary of the day's events at your convenience, delivered to my office. In the meantime, I will debrief." "Not in public, surely," Lillian murmured. "Our virgin eyes." It should have been Harry's joke, but he didn't have it in him just now. "I'll have Ms. Ferber type something up and send it over," the ASC nodded. If he thought the request strange, he gave no sign. "Will there be anything else, sir?" McInnis shook his head. "No, thank you. You may stand down." It was hardly necessary. There was no tension in the room, no urgency to the keystrokes and mouse movements or even the set of the ASC's shoulders. Nevertheless, the big man managed to widen his smile a little. "As you say, sir. Good evening." "Good evening," McInnis smiled back, then turned to Udo and said: "Your rooms, doctor?" Udo blinked, then nodded much too quickly. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go." She started for the double doors, her movements quick and jerky. Furtive. Harry felt a flare of annoyance make it past the suspicious relief; this wasn't her first rodeo. She should have been prepared for... //...for what, exactly?// For nothing. They had failed to contain SCP-5243 for the third time in eight years, and for the //first// time in eight years, the universe apparently hadn't noticed. Everything was fine. It terrified him. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Del was the first to speak, the instant the door was closed. They had walked the short distance from Operations Control to Udo's dorm in the northern block in relative silence, Wettle nattering about a sudden itch he'd developed between his shoulder blades that he couldn't scratch without removing his labcoat, an operation which uniformly ended in disaster. He was in mid-complaint when the diminutive security chief barked out "What the //fuck?!//" He flinched, as though afraid she was about to strike him. She'd done it before. "//Nothing// the fuck." Lillian flopped into the recliner she had long since claimed as her own; the arms were shredded where she'd clawed at them in restless dozing over the years, while the rest of them talked. Her fingernails found a few loose threads as she closed her eyes and kicked back. "We know how the Breach works. It doesn't work like this. We fucked up--" "//He// fucked up," Del interrupted, casting a withering glare at Nascimbeni as he sat down at the dining room table. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "--and when we fuck up, up gets //pregnant.// Up is universally fertile. Up does not //miscarry.//" Lillian clutched at the recliner so tightly that it creaked. "Maybe up had an ab--" Wettle began. McInnis interrupted him. "Is it possible, at all possible, that the Breach was //not// improperly replicated? That we successfully contained 5243?" "No." Lillian hammered the footrest with her hush puppies. The left one fell off. Her toes were curled. "No, we've seen how this works twice now. It doesn't matter that you executed the Victims who survived. They made it through those six minutes, and those six minutes define whether the timeline branches or not. Wirth and the rent-a-cops lived--" "Rent-a-cops?" Del snapped. "--so their awful magic selves have definitely gotten up to some awful magic bullshit in the past nine years. Just because the people living here haven't figured out what it was, doesn't mean it didn't happen." "Question," said Harry. He was sitting on one end of Udo's couch; she was sitting on the other. At a distance, as far as was possible. "Maybe they're all brainwashed," Lillian continued. "Maybe--" "Question," Harry repeated, and raised his volume with every subsequent word until Lillian stopped talking and let him finish. "Why do they EVEN KNOW //ABOUT THE BREACH?//" There was a moment's silence as the others attempted to work through his imperfect phrasing, which gave him the chance to rephrase. "Why did the ASC welcome us back to baseline? If we fucked the Breach, and this is an alternate timeline, why do they know about the alternate timelines? They didn't know shit in the last one." Lillian's eyes were open now, and shining. "//That// is a //very// good question. Thank you for interrupting me, Harry. Never do it again." McInnis had settled against the kitchen counter. "Is it possible they've worked out how 5243 //should have functioned,// in the absence of any world-altering phenomena? Perhaps Temporal Anomalies..." He trailed off. "No, that doesn't make sense either, does it?" "Why not?" Wettle asked, as though he was otherwise following the thread. Harry felt too helpless to even bother smacking him. "Because the Breach follows us," Lillian sighed. "Remember?" [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashyhammer"]] [[=]] + ##C5000B\|2007## ++ 10 September [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]Timeline 5243-B[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- Udo was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, legs pulled tight against her chest, head buried between her knees. Del was pushing a cabinet half again as tall as she was against the door. Melissa Bradbury was sitting on Harry's couch, eyes bloodshot and bleary, dark circles around them and heavy bags beneath. She looked like she'd just walked through a sirocco. Harry knelt down in front of her. His voice was high and shaky, and it was all he could do to avoid stuttering. "How long has it been like this?" Melissa blinked, and her mouth opened. She didn't say anything. He reached out and took her by the shoulders. She was shaking, he realized. He massaged through the fabric, and tried again. "Melissa. How long--" "The breach," she whispered. "In F-D." He nodded encouragingly. "Okay. That's good. Which one?" Her eyes clouded further with confusion as a guttural howl erupted from the hallway. Del grunted as she tipped over a bookcase, scattering its contents over the carpet, before manhandling it over to the door. "Which one?" Melissa repeated. "Which one what?" "Which breach?" Harry visibly resisted the urge to shake her. "In F-D. Was it 2002? 2003? Last year? Which one?" She cocked her head to one side, and something of the woman they knew shone through for the first time since they'd found her near-catatonic on the couch. "I don't understand," she said. "There was only one breach." The wailing outside was now barely comprehensible as human speech. Something thumped hard on the door, over and over. Frantic. Frenzied. Desperate. "LET ME IN LET ME IN LET ME IN," Wettle howled over the soundproofing. "THEY'RE IN MY HAIR THEY'RE--" [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "I definitely don't remember that," Wettle frowned. Lillian kicked her right shoe off. It struck him in the side of the head. "The Breach only happens when we're around. Until we show up for the first time, September 8 is just September 8." "But we're always around." Wettle rubbed his cheek. "//These versions// of us." Ibanez tapped her temples. "It follows //us// us. Only apparently it doesn't, because apparently it //didn't.//" McInnis cleared his throat. They all looked in his direction, except for Lillian and Nascimbeni. "Action items, then. Determine whether this is indeed baseline temporality, or an alternate timeline; if the latter, determine why the existence of the Breach is known, and determine what new challenges we face here. Pursue these enquiries with discretion." "Meaning you don't want me to do anything," said Wettle. McInnis nodded. "I believe that would be for the best, yes." "I'll find Melissa," Harry felt himself saying. Udo shot him a meaningful look. He pretended not to notice. "Or maybe not." Del kicked off the wall. "I'll check the security records." "I'll check my logs," Nascimbeni muttered. "//I'll// check your logs," Del said. "I don't trust you. This is all your fault." "Please." McInnis' voice was, as always, calm and level. "Let's not waste time with recriminations. We may need to work quickly." "And we might not," Harry yawned. He stretched, and stood up. "In which case I'll call up the archival database and see if there's anything." Udo remained on the couch. "I'll take the measure of the Site," she said. Harry glanced back and down at her. "Meaning?" She reached to her belt and drew the little sack of sand into view. "Take a run around the vents," she explained. "See what's what." "Die Hard With a Sandbag," he mused. She smiled. He almost smiled back. "We should avoid attracting attention," McInnis reminded them. "Please send me your findings remotely. We will have occasion to congregate again, but not tonight." He brought his hands together in a silent clap. "Sampi-5243, dismissed." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Melissa Bradbury was still retired from active duty, living an isolated life in a Grand Bend bungalow. Harry had hoped that might have changed. If it hadn't, could anything else have? Wasn't that the fulcrum of his existence? Their entire message history was different, but still familiar. [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank Getting through it alright?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]M_Bradbury Yeah.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]M_Bradbury Uplink is kinda slow, though.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank It'd be a whole lot faster if you were actually here.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]M_Bradbury Pass :)[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] The projects they'd been corresponding about were a mishmash of things he recognized, and things he didn't. He'd been sending her little research queries, keeping her in the loop about what he was working on, and she'd been sending him little packets of data in return. Site-43's only work-from-home researcher. The fact that the details had changed suggested... ...what, precisely? That they were in an alternate timeline? Or that they'd always //been// in an alternate timeline, and had now collapsed back down to baseline, as the ASC's cryptic comment suggested? He hadn't even thought of that at the quick debriefing. He was sure Lillian had run it through her mind a million times already. He dropped his work tablet into his labcoat pocket, and opened his dorm room door. Udo was standing there, fist raised, looking sheepish. "Hi," he said. "Hi." She made the fist into a halfhearted wave, then stuffed it in her own pocket. "I was wondering if you wanted to watch over me while I do the thing." She tapped the reagents pouch with her free hand. "Then maybe we could get dinner?" "It's too soon," he said without even stopping to think about it. "My girlfriend just broke up with me, and I'm not ready." [[=image DL_43_11_Blank_Rude.jpg]] He couldn't shake the image of her look of astonished hurt, or stop the burning in his cheeks, as he took the long way 'round from his quarters to Archives and Revision, nor the shame he felt at taking the cheap shot, nor the sense that she'd easily deserved it. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] He left her there feeling ridiculous, vulnerable, and alone. She knew she'd precipitated it -- it had been her suggestion that they pause their relationship before the timeline change, in case their new circumstances made it awkward -- but she was still surprised by his sudden vehemence. His pettiness. The obvious injury to his feelings, and the callousness of his response. She stood in front of his closed door for a moment longer, guilt and resentment vying for control, then headed down the corridor in his wake. Not following him; there was simply no other way for her to walk. The path to his quarters was a dead end. //Appropriately.// She had found, confronted with a world which had changed in ways ineffable rather than cataclysmic, that she required the stabilizing influence of company. She had regretted what had seemed a sound decision the night before. She had made an overture, and she had been rejected. She therefore found herself at the main elevator without ever having fixed a destination in her mind, and within a few minutes was standing in the soft teal glow of her own domain: the second sublevel, Applied Occultism. There would be someone in the common room, or else one of the containment cells. There always was. Quite a few of her fellow occultists were night owls -- practicing thaumaturgy at the witching hour was too strong a temptation to resist -- and a great many of them felt out of place outside of their department, where being able to practice magic was far from the norm. Perhaps Rozálie Astrauskas worked at 43 in this timeline? She'd gone back to Area-21 in baseline, but if things were different here... ...no, that didn't make sense. She'd left for 21 in the first place due to Udo's dalliance with Dougall Deering and fixation on his death, and none of that would have changed. Would it? It made her head hurt a little. She needed a flowchart. She saw who was sitting in the common room before she reached it, thanks to the wide bank of glass windows. She hesitated. The other woman saw her, and waved. Udo waved back, and walked the other way. Stacey Laiken was the last person in the world she wanted to run into right n-- She ran into someone else. "I'm sorry!" the someone shouted, dancing backward on the toes of his workboots. "I was trying to get out of your way, but you weren't... I mean, it wasn't your... you know. I'm sorry." It was Dougall Deering. It was //Philip// Deering. Dougall wouldn't have been caught dead in a J&M uniform. Dougall had //already// been caught dead in a labcoat, silk shirt, dress pants and Doc Martens. It was only his brother, looking bashful and ashamed because she had been looking at a ninety degree angle to where she'd been walking. They were still in front of the ApplOcc lounge. Laiken was standing up now, looking concerned. Udo waved at her again, mumbled an apology to Phil, and headed back the way she'd come. Then stopped. She looked back at Phil. By the way his eyes were furiously scanning a safety poster on the wall, she knew he'd been watching her walk away. //Probably because you bowled him over like an idiot. Don't read anything into it.// //Don't read anything into it.// He was reading a safety poster on the wall. Precisely where the mirror to catch his mirror monster should have been mounted. "'Welcome back to baseline'," she said under her breath, "my //ass.//" [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Lillihammer knew exactly where she wanted to go, and since everyone but McInnis seemed preoccupied with something, and Wettle couldn't very well follow the Director into his private office where he did his private Director business, he decided to follow her. He did it at a distance for the first few minutes, trying to figure out which parts of her were foreshortened to allow her legs to be that long; by the time he'd decided everything else was long, too, only the legs were even longer, she'd spun on her heel and snapped her long fingers at him. "If you're gonna come with, //come with.// Do not //trail me,// William Wettle. You are not my trailer, and we will never be //hitched.//" "I've been hitched twice," he told her as he caught up. It wasn't easy; his legs were long too, but unlike hers, they weren't very good at propelling him in only one direction at a time. "Timeline travel makes me queasy," she growled. "Don't make me lose my lunch. Whatever the fuck I had for lunch, here." "I thought here was... here?" She looked down her nose at him, despite the fact that the difference in height between the two of them was far less pronounced than it was between either one of them and anyone else. She was simply a natural nose-down-looker. "You //would// think that." By the time they reached Quantum Supermechanics, Lillihammer looked tense. She was walking on the tips of her shoes, and muttering softly under her breath. She did the latter whenever they were alone, which wasn't often; he assumed she was having a conversation with herself to avoid having to start one with him. They found Xinyi Du at the apex of the DUAL Core, a massive quantum computer which plunged away below them where a series of catwalks and maintenance accesses buzzed with drones and shone with dozens of blinking indicators. It was spinning; Wettle had never understood what practical reason a computer might have to spin, but perhaps it wasn't practical at all. Most of the Foundation's best scientists succumbed to some extent to the siren song of the rule of cool. "Hello, Lillian," Du smiled as they approached. "William. What can I do for you today?" Lillihammer frowned. "I was going to ask what tests you've been running lately." The grey-coated physicist shrugged. "Lots of them! The Core's been working double time. We've been checking out some really exciting new theories, as of course you well know." He cracked his neck. "Honestly, I'd been hoping you'd stop by. I already sent my preliminary report to the ASC, of course, but I could really use your help on the followup. And yours!" It took Wettle a second to realize this last was directed at him. "The primary conclusion is a relief, sure, but I need to know if my other findings are replicable too. Obviously we've only got the one Core, but the experimental procedure--" "I said," Lillihammer snapped, "I was //going// to ask." She flicked something in his direction, and Wettle instinctively ducked; he'd already seen what she could do with a thrown playing card, or rather he'd felt it, and seen the bruise every morning for a week afterward. Du caught the miniature missile with surprisingly deft reflexes, and tucked it into his labcoat pocket. "We can trade business cards later. Right now I--" Lillihammer clapped both hands against his temples, hard, and he fell to the grating in a heap. She plucked the card out of his labcoat, "Just in case," and ran it in front of his unseeing eyes. "What?" said Wettle. "That," she told him, "was Reuben Wirth." "Oh no," he cried. "Who's that?" [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] A quick glance over his database told Nascimbeni everything he needed to know. All the inspection and repair reports were routine, properly filled, and mildly deviant from the ones he'd been looking at just yesterday. Whatever the people here thought was happening, they were wrong. This wasn't baseline. But it wasn't any better. There was, to his surprise, still a mural in the AAF-D approach corridor. It featured only three figures: Bernabé Del Olmo, David Markey, and Romolo Ambrogi. To create a world where his nephew was still alive, Nascimbeni would have had not only to prevent the closure of the airlock door, but rush the other man out of a control booth and down a maze of passages while all the demons were there. In six minutes. Or stop the breach entirely, as they'd inadvertently done the first time. //Which turned out so wonderfully well.// He felt heartsick. He checked his watch. //7:22.// His shift had already officially ended, but he had a little time before the continued activity became suspicious. Nascimbeni was known to be married to his work. He headed north, to Health and Pathology. He didn't see anyone who wasn't supposed to be alive, but that didn't mean they weren't around. People he knew nodded at him, and he nodded back. Azad Banerjee. Nîpisiy Maskwa. Sherali Ismail. He realized he'd forgotten to look up one very important detail, and cursed. Where was Gallo Nascimbeni? He'd never had the nerve to bring his son here, not in baseline. But maybe... The Site's CMO was chatting with the commander of the Mobile Task Forces in the hospital lobby. Emilié LeClair was leaning against a nurse station, laughing and playing with her silver hair. Gedeon Van Rompay had his hands in his tactical vest, and for the first time since Nascimbeni had known him, he was laughing too. It was a surprisingly rich, warm sound. As Nascimbeni passed, the gruff older man gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement, and LeClair reached up to pull his beret down over his eyes. They were still laughing when Nascimbeni turned the corner out of sight, on his way to Psych and Parapsych. He stopped dead in his tracks. It had been a long time since he'd gone to H&P for a checkup. When the CMO needed to see him, she always came to his office, and he didn't make a point of encouraging it. If there was something fatally wrong with him, he mostly preferred that it catch him suddenly and unawares. That was why the discontinuity hadn't immediately struck him, even though it had been spelled out in large, neon letters just last year. The Chief Medical Officer of Site-43 was supposed to be a dour woman named Helena Forsythe. Emilié LeClair lived in a retirement home in Grand Bend, and had since 2010. She had Alzheimer's Disease. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="muddle"]] Site-43 was established, as we've already... established, on the well-trodden trackways of an industrious race of big-cat-shaped chimaeras. Many of these sunken paths sufficed as lake-to-lake transit, some sought out sources of subterranean warmth, and some linked the beneath world with the world of humanity above. But many switched back on themselves, spiralling recursively deeper and deeper into the murky depths, and evidence of these can still be found in the otherwise rationalized footprint of our facility. There are countless corners, nooks and crannies carved from the rock in ages past and blocked over, plastered over, and tiled over in recent memory. The result is that it's never that hard to dodge human company at Site-43, with its wealth of blind alleys and //culs-de-sac,// whether you're hoping to catch your breath there or achieve the polar opposite. [[>]] -- Dr. Harold Blank, //Lines in a Muddle: A Cultural History of Site-43// [[/>]] [[/div]] Harry found himself heading for the office which had once belonged to Melissa Bradbury, and stopped himself long before he reached it. He wasn't ready for whatever revelations awaited him there. Every detail he acquired about the new //status quo// brought him closer to that moment when the vast branching tree of possibilities would be whittled down to a nub. He wasn't ready for that, not so soon after his shameful display with Udo. //Oh, we're ashamed of ourselves now, are we?// Perhaps that was what brought him instead to the party-streamer-shaped corridor which wound past Admin and Oversight, then in on itself, until it reached a set of washrooms that practically nobody used. This was where Edwin Falkirk, Site-43's shortest serving and least lamented Director, had encountered Philip Deering's significant other. Harry still wondered what precisely had gone down at that meeting. Perhaps Delfina had something in her files? But then, this also would be an unpleasant revelation. He wasn't ready to learn that they had security cameras in the washrooms, either. He pushed open the door, and immediately discovered instead that they certainly didn't have smoke detectors. Karen Elstrom was hunched in the corner, a half-spent cigarette pressed between her thin lips by her thin fingers. She turned to face him, nostrils flared, a glimmer of guilt on twin seas of anger in her eyes. [[=image DL_43_12_Elstrom_Smoke.jpg]] "Sorry," he said. He raised both hands, as though she might lash out. She crushed the cigarette into the nearest sink. "Sorry for what." "I didn't know anyone was in here." "It's not a private washroom, Harry." He felt like something more was expected, but he wasn't sure what. The look she was giving him was certainly expectant... "Oh." He was standing in front of the exit, wasn't he? He moved aside, and she moved to pass. They switched places, she at the door, him in the middle of the dull green tiles, where a dip in elevation would draw mop water and filth alike into a shiny grey drain in the floor. Only she didn't push the door open, just stood there with her back to him. The black polyester of her vest's rear panel shone blue in the sickly fluorescents. Her shoulders were rounded. Her hair was knotted so tightly against her skull that he thought it must have hurt for her to speak. Certainly she'd never be able to manage a smile. "It's just been a lot," she told the bathroom door. "I don't need your fucking judgement." And she left. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Ibanez's first thought, as she'd declared to the other Survivors, was to head for Security and Containment. Not only because this was her bailiwick, and not only because that was where her records were, but those were two very good reasons nevertheless. She made it her business to know everything that went on at Site-43, and the versions of her who had lived in the last two alternate realities had been no different. But perhaps she wouldn't even need to reach her office; the first time she'd travelled across timelines, she'd almost immediately been confronted with two agents who'd died violent deaths in baseline reality. If she saw Sandy Holt or Lew Bosch in the halls, she'd know the score. As it turned out, she didn't even need to reach S&C. As she passed through the perpendicular cloverleaf of access hallways outside the AAF-D approach, two J&M techs came strolling out of their beige concrete bunker. Because they were wearing the jumpsuits adopted back in 2003, and because these weren't her people, it took her a moment to realize who she was seeing. They were laughing, and one of them punched the other in the shoulder, and as they walked past her they both mock-saluted. "Evening, Chief!" Paul Nicolescu stopped to stretch his legs. "We're off for the saloon. Wanna join?" "Yeah!" Sergey Vanchev grinned down at her. "Be nice to have a drinking partner who can keep up with me, for a change." "Hey!" Nicolescu punched him playfully again, and they both laughed. She'd last seen them both in the morgue, in uniforms which had been promptly discontinued. Vanchev with his head staved in, by Nicolescu, who had fed himself to the wolves in remorse. [[=image DL_43_13_Ibanez_Casual.jpg]] "Maybe later," she managed. "Suit yourself." Vanchev put an arm around Nicolescu, and steered him back down the corridor. "But there's no time like the present!" [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] They had planned for a thousand eventualities in the years since the last dead timeline. McInnis had no end of options, things he could investigate, places he might go. In almost every situation, however, he would find himself making the same decision. There was no version of the All-Sections Chief whom he did not trust implicitly. The others were off on their own missions, and the truth would undoubtedly out in short order. It was time to come clean to his deputy. Only the moment he entered Operations Control again, that same deputy sent him back out. "She's stopped outside the interdiction zone." Anyone else would have sighed this information. The ASC never sighed. "They're keeping her topside. But she's insisting she needs to speak with you, sir." "Does she get to do that?" Karen Elstrom asked from her station beside the Section head's raised daïs. She looked several different sorts of pained. "Is that a thing we're allowing her to do?" McInnis wondered what history, if any, Falkirk's erstwhile secretary had with their unwanted visitor. "Not as a demand, no," he admitted. "But perhaps as a courtesy." This was more a job for the Chief of A&O, but he didn't know where Mitchum was, and it probably wouldn't look good for him to ask. For all he knew, he'd sent the man on a mission himself. As much as he was certain he could rely on the ASC, and Elstrom too in a pinch, the room was full of other people he only knew well enough to trust with his life. Trusting them with the lives of every man, woman and child on Earth was something else entirely. "I'll go," he said, then raised a hand to stifle Elstrom's inevitable protest -- she had always taken a personal interest in his safety, since he'd saved her life on the day they'd first met. "With a security escort, of course." He scanned the room quickly. "Agent Pensak, Agent O, if you please." The rangy Israeli man and stocky Korean woman checked their sidearms, per procedure, and crossed the tiles to flank him. It was interesting, though he didn't have time to ponder it, that Pensak was here. He'd been hired after the first dead timeline, on the back of what they'd learned about him there. //Curious.// "Try not to lose the Site while I'm away," McInnis told his deputy, and headed into Habitation and Sustenance in the direction of the topside elevator. As much as the Chief Superintendent of the Occult and Supernatural Activities Taskforce deserved to be kept waiting, perhaps even indefinitely, it was at least conceivable that she might have some vague idea of what was going on. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] They rode up in silence. Pensak's face was drawn, and his cheeks hollow, but then he had never looked precisely cheerful. O had the twitchy look of a sniper caught in the open, but McInnis knew she'd be calm when it mattered. He was well-protected, not that he expected to need protection. The Mounties knew both too much and not enough about what lurked down below to attempt a forced entry. In baseline, they'd only ever set foot in Site-43 by invitation since the sixties. He did not intend to extend an invitation today. Whatever Morwen Couch wanted to talk about, they could discuss in her vehicle, or the barracks buildings of Camp Ipperwash. Given the circumstances of her last appearance here, she should count herself lucky he was even willing to acknowledge her presence. The elevator shuddered to a stop, topside, and the doors slid open. [[=image DL_43_14_McInnis_Nothing.jpg]] On absolutely nothing at all. @@ @@ [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:earthworm">:scp-wiki:component:earthworm</a> \| first=true \| last=false \| hub=yes \| previous-url=/ \| previous-title=/ \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/44-next-to-nothing \| next-title=Next to Nothing \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/deadlined-hub \| hub-title=The Breach Goes On: Deadlined ]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] Illustrations in this series use reference material created with DAZ studio. Images of the following characters utilized the following photographic references as well: Karen Elstrom: "Natalya" by Anastasia Pavlenko, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/zamerzla/50841210177 Delfina Ibanez: "Entrega de Libros y Casas" and "Cultura Federal Jujuy - día 2" by Romina Santarelli, both released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/culturaargentina/52872556322 https://www.flickr.com/photos/culturaargentina/52832894653 Allan McInnis: "Harsh" by Jeremy Jenum, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/10382904023 Noè Nascimbeni: "abdul" by Davidlohr Bueso, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/54829270@N00/5733944992 Nhung Ngo: Nhi Dang, "Huyen," released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/ and Rod Waddington, "Hmong Woman," released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060 Ilse Reynders: "Practicing that blank stare" and "Quinn working" by Quinn Dombrowski, both released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/3608370529 https://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnanya/1509808028 William Wettle: "Scruffy self-portrait" by Nic McPhee, released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260 Marion Wheeler: Untitled sketches by WasteButterscotch810, by default CC BY-SA 3.0: https://www.reddit.com/r/SCP/comments/t6g7tz/marion_wheeler_sketches_bc_i_reread_there_is_no > Filename: Everything! > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-09-08T23:33:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "antimemetics-division", "bureaucracy", "chief-ibanez", "deadlined", "director-bohart", "director-mcinnis", "director-scout", "doctor-asheworth", "doctor-blank", "doctor-elstrom", "doctor-lillihammer", "doctor-okorie", "doctor-reynders", "doctor-wettle", "illustrated", "judith-low", "marion-wheeler", "mystery", "on-guard-43", "philip-deering", "science-fiction", "slice-of-life", "tale", "vikander-kneed" ]	Nothing Happens - SCP Foundation	58	[ "secure-facility-dossier-site-246", "scp-8888", "secure-facility-dossier-site-12", "secure-facility-dossier-site-333", "hecatoncheires-cycle-hub", "secure-facility-dossier-site-43", "antimemetics-division-hub", "the-wild-light", "deadlined-hub", "44-next-to-nothing", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "vikander-kneed-technical-media-hub", "deadlined-hub", "news" ]	[ "http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png", "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/0-underture/TBGO.png", "http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png" ]	1456710188	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/43-nothing-happens
44-next-to-nothing	<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"> 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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"> 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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> <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>Next to Nothing</strong><br/> Better than the alternative.</p> <img alt="local--files" class="image" src="http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/"/> <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 style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc0"><span>Next to Nothing</span></h1> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br/> <img alt="Asterisk43.png" class="image" src="http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png"/><br/> <span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span> <h1 id="toc1"><span><span style="color: #990011">2011</span></span></h1> <h2 id="toc2"><span>9 September</span></h2> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong>Timeline 5243-C</strong></span><br/> <span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="http://www.scpwiki.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>He'd been expecting something to happen, of course, or to discover that something had already happened which everyone but he and the other Survivors thought was normal, or had long since come to terms with. He had not expected <em>this,</em> and when confronted with it, was not sure precisely how to react. It didn't matter, however, because the other two people in the elevator reacted so strongly that they couldn't have noticed how taken aback he was.</p> <p>Pensak made an inarticulate shout of surprise, and O stepped away from the sudden precipice so hard that she collided with the back of the elevator, and yelped. Both of them drew their weapons, as they were trained to do when confronted with the unknown, and there was something almost touchingly naïve about that. About drawing down on a featureless void.</p> <p>The world beyond the elevator doors simply <em>was not.</em></p> <p>McInnis turned to O. "Your radio, please?"</p> <p>The woman blinked slowly at him, then picked the mic off her lapel and put her thumb over the transmit button. "Who? Who should I call? And what…"</p> <p>He shook his head. "We're not calling anyone. Please detach your radio, and hand it to me. Just yours," he added as her eyes widened in fear. "I need something with a cable attached, you understand. That's all."</p> <p>Realization dawned, and she nodded. In her moment of blind terror, she'd probably thought he meant to garrote her to keep the secret silent.</p> <p>A swift, efficient motion, and the deactivated device was in his hand. He played out the curly cable a little, spun it up, and spooled the radio out into the dark a ways. It passed into the space which did not appear to be a space at all, with no apparent ill effects. The lights from the elevator illuminated nothing but the interior and the plastic of the radio and cord, the darkness intruded no farther into the car than its edge, existence and nonexistence stood side by side in perfect harmony. He realized suddenly that if this had not been the case, if the relationship had been more akin to matter and antimatter…</p> <p>…that their respiration, and the particulates from the elevator's air cycling, and their dead skin cells whisked out by the opening doors would already have annihilated everything that still remained. No, his instincts to test the waters had been correct. He handed O's radio back to her, then turned to include Pensak in their little council. The wiry agent looked like a deer about to bolt. "Do either of you have any spare change?"</p> <p>Pensak grunted. "Never, actually."</p> <p>O shook her head, staring out into the black, mouth in the shape of her surname.</p> <p>McInnis fished in his pockets, finding nothing there but a sparse scatter of lint. Apparently he'd dressed in a hurry this morning. He gathered up as much as he could, perversely pleased that only in this doomed alternate timeline would anyone know he had ever carried lint in his pockets, and tossed it out into the ether.</p> <p>It rained softly down, down, down, past the edge of the elevator floor and out of sight.</p> <p>"At least there's gravity," O breathed. Then added: "Somehow."</p> <p>He resisted the urge to lean out, and instead pressed the button which closed the doors. For whatever reason, knowing that nothing was out there made it more claustrophobic inside. He turned to them again. "You are not to leave my side until I dismiss you. You will not discuss what we just saw with anyone. I will inform the senior staff, and we will determine what's going on, and what to do about it. I may need your help, and I will absolutely require your cooperation. Are we understood?"</p> <p>O nodded immediately. Pensak seemed to wait a fraction of a second, until he saw that she was nodding, and followed suit. No worse than he'd expected. "Good. Agent Pensak, could you please radio the Chief of Identity and Technocryptography for me? Her private channel."</p> <p>Pensak thumbed his mic without removing it from his lapel. He kept eye contact with McInnis as he spoke. "PTF Omega-43 to I&T Actual." Pensak was using the callsign of the Director's personal escort, only a provisionary taskforce because the Director only needed an escort when he left the Site. Or rather, that was how it usually went; right now he required a security detail to protect their little secret, from his own people. It was good that he didn't have time to consider the morality of that problem.</p> <p>"Veiksaar," came the response from Pensak's radio.</p> <p>McInnis took a deep breath. "Lockdown, Chief."</p> <p>A pause. Veiksaar didn't question the order. She never did. "Safe emergency stop complete. System was riderless, sir." She was referring to the Inter-Sectional Subway System, all trains now securely e-braked in their tunnels.</p> <p>"Very good."</p> <p>"All exits sealed, aaaand extra-facility communications fully dark. We're secure."</p> <p>"Excellent." Nothing much surprised Veiksaar anymore. "The topside elevator will be stopping at the third sublevel in a few moments. When the doors have closed and the internal sensors show no-one remains inside, I require the car locked with Level 5 clearance. Understood?"</p> <p>"Good to go, and monitoring."</p> <p>"Thank you."</p> <p>McInnis nodded at Pensak. "Chief Ibanez now, please."</p> <p>The agent called it in. "S&C Actual," Ibanez replied immediately. Probably she'd been listening in. Furthermore, McInnis knew her tones well enough by now to say that there was already something on her mind. Well, that was fine. They'd be reconvening with a vengeance soon.</p> <p>Pensak thumbed the mic again so the Director could respond, which he did. "Chief. All access to the topside elevator, helipad, subway and AAF-A are now locked down. Please station guards at all egress points; no-one is to leave Site-43 until further notice. Once this is assured, meet me at the foyer."</p> <p>"Roger."</p> <p>"I'm here," Pensak replied, button still down. There was no response. He smiled wryly as he released his grip. "Anyone else you want me to call, sir?"</p> <p>"Chief Van Rompay."</p> <p>O was practically hyperventilating by now. Pensak's chest was heaving. His voice nearly broke as he made the call. "PTF Omega-43 to P&S Actual."</p> <p>The Chief of Pursuit and Suppression growled over the speaker: "If this is the Director's escort, I'm already in contact with Ops."</p> <p>"Pleased to hear it. I assume you're looking out a window, Chief?"</p> <p>"For what little good it's doing me, yeah."</p> <p>McInnis closed his eyes. O began to shake. Pensak looked like he wanted to break something. The problem wasn't restricted to Camp Ipperwash, then; Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-A, where the Mobile Task Forces mustered aboveground, was over a kilometre away. "I presume you and yours are now working to reinforce the lockdown."</p> <p>"Of course."</p> <p>"Continue to do so until I order otherwise, and make no effort to investigate this new phenomenon. No personnel are to exit AAF-A by any means. Am I clear?"</p> <p>"Crystal."</p> <p>"Outstanding."</p> <p>And the old soldier clicked off his mic.</p> <p>Pensak raised an eyebrow, and McInnis shook his head. No, there was no-one left to inform. Not on the emergency channels. "We'll be meeting Chief Ibanez downstairs, then heading to Operations Control. Thank you in advance for your professionalism. We'll sort this out as soon as possible."</p> <p>O looked pensive, which was hardly a surprise. "Do you think it's something OSAT is doing? Some sort of screen, or… I don't know. A pocket dimensional prison…?</p> <p>Pensak scoffed. "More likely they tried something stupid that blew them up and blew <em>us</em> out into space."</p> <p>"Speculation won't get us anywhere," McInnis reminded them gently. "Programmatic and precise response to anomalous phenomena is what we do here. It just doesn't often strike so close to home."</p> <p>"Not for almost ten years," O agreed.</p> <p>He found himself envying her.</p> <p>Ibanez pulled him aside when they reached the foyer, and told him what she'd seen. He had nodded gravely at her confirmation that the timeline had definitely splintered; it was, technically, not something he'd yet seen proof of. He kept what he <em>had</em> seen private, though he ordered her to discreetly locate the others and bring them to his quarters.</p> <p>"Your quarters?"</p> <p>"My quarters."</p> <p>She shrugged, and headed off. He walked the short distance back to Admin and Oversight, juggling options in his head the whole way. By the time he was back in Operations Control, he knew what he had to do.</p> <p>"Nim," he said, and the All-Sections Chief glanced up from the console he was leaning over. "You've been informed?"</p> <p>The other man nodded. If he was curious, he kept it off his face. "Chief Van Rompay got in touch immediately, and Chiefs Ibanez and Veiksaar called your orders in after executing them, per protocol. None of it's left this room. Am I qualified to know what's wrong with our systems, or what happened topside with Couch?"</p> <p>"You are. I'll be heading to the Director's Complex, ah, directly. I'd appreciate it if you'd join me." He scanned the room for the flash of blonde that was Elstrom's stitch-knit topknot, and found her peering at him openly in precisely the manner the ASC had not. "Dr. Elstrom, in Chief Mitchum's absence I would appreciate your taking over here until we return. We are experiencing an emergent situation, but if we keep it under wraps, I believe it can be resolved without serious difficulty. Could you please issue a public address attributing the lockdown to a credible threat? Chief Ibanez will be able to suggest a likely culprit on her secure channel."</p> <p>Elstrom nodded, blue eyes half-lidded. More resigned than intrigued.</p> <p>"Very well. There will be a general debriefing soon. In the meantime, please maintain radio silence and ensure all personnel remain within the facility."</p> <p>No-one questioned him, at least not openly. Pensak and Elstrom both looked like they wanted to.</p> <p><em>You'll know when I know,</em> he thought as the four of them headed back out into the hall. <em>Probably.</em></p> <p>When they reached the Director's Complex, most of Sampi-5243 was already there. He saw Wettle's blue labcoat disappearing into the reception room, heard Harry and Udo conversing in clipped tones within, saw Ibanez at the end of the hall, no doubt scoping for snoopers. Lillian was standing in front of the open door, one hand on Nascimbeni's chest.</p> <p>"It's not that I don't trust you," she said, "it's that none of us trust you."</p> <p>"Get real," he snarled. "Whatever's going on, it affects all of us."</p> <p>"Yeah," Ibanez agreed as she approached the door, one hand on her holstered service weapon. "Whatever you caused, it affects all of us. We'll come back out to thank you for it once we know the details."</p> <p>McInnis placed a hand on Nascimbeni's shoulder, and faced the two stone-faced women with a smile. "You may take my word for this," he said. "We are all in this one together. Please, everyone, assemble inside."</p> <p>Ibanez looked like she wanted to argue the point, but McInnis began steering Nascimbeni through the door, and she bedgrudgingly moved aside. She was the last one to enter, looking at O and Pensak with particularly palpable uncertainty. Almost nobody outside of the senior staff ever got through even this first layer of the Director's private security.</p> <p>Once inside, he led them past the comfortable chairs and his secretary's desk through to the private meeting room which represented the limin between his professional and private retreats. This was easily a two-layer problem, at the very least. He gestured to the motley group to take seats where they could find them; there were a number of couches, recliners, and tables with chairs scattered about in a way which suggested a very expensively casual decorating philosophy. The ASC immediately located his favourite chair, and the others stumbled into a random arrangement which would serve well enough for what had to be conveyed.</p> <p>"Wow," said Harry. "Can't believe we were meeting in a <em>dorm room</em> before."</p> <p>"Who's 'we'?" Pensak snapped.</p> <p>McInnis raised a hand. "Get settled, everyone, and I will provide clarity. We need to reach our conclusions swiftly and efficiently. We face an existential threat, or perhaps an existential <em>failure,</em> and I am going to need to make a statement on its nature within the next few hours."</p> <p>That shut all of them up. Even Wettle appeared to be paying attention, though that could have just been an accident of the direction his chair was facing in.</p> <p>"The topside elevator," McInnis told them, "presently opens on an open void. Facility AAF-A is enshrouded in the same. It is my belief that Site-43 now represents the full extent of baseline reality. Site-43 and baseline reality, I reiterate, are at present coterminous."</p> <p>There was a moment of silence, appropriately, before Nascimbeni cried out: "What?!"</p> <p>"Everything's gone," said Pensak. He sounded calmer than his words would have suggested he should be. "Completely gone."</p> <p>"Gone gone," O clarified, in intent if not execution.</p> <p>"How?" Harry and Nascimbeni blurted simultaneously. Udo looked shell-shocked, and Lillian's eyes had narrowed to points. Wettle was looking back and forth between them all, perhaps judging whether or not he should panic. Ibanez had a look on her face that McInnis recognized from Pensak's, back in the elevator. The All-Sections Chief, by contrast, merely seemed momentarily crestfallen. It flashed across his features too swiftly for anyone else to notice, consumed as they were with their own astonished disbelief, and in the blink of an eye it was gone.</p> <p>"I don't know," McInnis admitted. "I don't even know if that's what's actually going on. But we're going to need to conduct a thorough search of the facility to determine where the boundaries lie between us and the exterior void, and if nothing beside remains," a strange look flashed over Harry's face at the reference, "then this will need to be swiftly followed by a complete audit and inventory."</p> <p>"I thought you said we could fix this quickly and… whatever." Pensak's hands were both balled in anger.</p> <p>"I did say that," McInnis agreed. "And given the scale of the issue, assuming I've identified it correctly, I think my timeline is entirely reasonable. We should be able to revert whatever damage has been done in the scope of a single year."</p> <p>Allan dismissed them to prepare for a Chairs and Chiefs (and Guests, Harry added mentally) meeting in the main boardroom. Del left first, with her agents in tow, and the rest of them quickly paired off. Lillian resumed her abuse of Nascimbeni as though they hadn't just been told that the entire topside world had vanished in the interim, the Director and his deputy remained behind — presumably so Allan could explain what would actually happen next September, and why he was so confident it would correct the present problem — and Wettle wandered off with his shell shock for company. That left Udo with Harry, leaving Harry with the need to be alone.</p> <p>If topside was gone, Grand Bend was gone. If Grand Bend was gone—</p> <p>Delicate hands grasped his shoulders, and spun him around as he walked. He looked down into Udo's simmering eyes, and then she reached up and pulled a hair out of his beard.</p> <p>"Ow!" he shouted. He'd never known people actually shouted things like "Ow!" before that moment. "What the fuck?!"</p> <p>She lifted her prize up to his eye level. The hair was bright grey, translucent, like a snippet of fibre optic wire. "You've got grey hairs."</p> <p>He shoved roughly off, eyes watering. "Thanks for noticing. That's not your problem anymore."</p> <p>Her jaw pushed forward a few centimetres, and she advanced again. "You didn't have grey hairs on your face back in baseline."</p> <p>"And Noè didn't have so many," he pointed. The chief tech's slate beard, wagging as he gave far worse than he got in his argument with the raging memeticist, was attenuating to charcoal. "And Lillian…"</p> <p>He frowned. Lillian's jaw snapped shut, and she looked away from her prey with narrowed eyes. "What about me?"</p> <p>He walked over, reached up, and gently brushed a single streak of white hair so that it fell in front of her face. Her eyes crossed as she stared at it, transfixed.</p> <p>"We're older here," said Udo. "What kind of sense does that make?"</p> <p>"Who knows." Harry walked past, letting the long-gone cats send him off in a random direction. "But don't touch my face again."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc3"><span>Chairs and Chiefs Debriefing</span></h1> <h2 id="toc4"><span>9 September 2011</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p><strong>Presiding:</strong><br/> McInnis, Director Allan J. (Site-43)</p> <p><strong>Present, Voting:</strong><br/> All-Sections Chief<br/> Blank, Dr. Harold R. (Archives and Revision, Chair)<br/> Bremmel, Dr. Trevor (Arms and Equipment, Chief)<br/> Du, Dr. Xinyi (Quantum Supermechanics, Chair)<br/> Ibanez, Delfina M. (Security and Containment, Chief)<br/> Elstrom, Dr. Karen T. (Administration and Oversight, Acting Chief)<br/> Laiken, Dr. Stacey (Applied Occultism, Chief)<br/> LeClair, Dr. Emilié (Health and Pathology, Chair)<br/> Lillihammer, Dr. Lillian S. (Memetics and Countermemetics, Acting Chair)<br/> Mataxas, Dr. Anastasios (Research and Experimentation, Chair)<br/> Nascimbeni, Noè (Janitorial and Maintenance, Chief)<br/> Nass, Dr. Michael D. (Theology and Teleology, Chair)<br/> Ngo, Dr. Nhung T. (Psychology and Parapsychology, Deputy Chair)<br/> Styles, Gennady (Hiring and Regulation, Chief)<br/> Veiksaar, Dr. Eileen K. (Information and Technocryptography, Chief)</p> <p><strong>Telepresent, Voting:</strong><br/> Van Rompay, Gedeon (Pursuit and Suppression, Chief)</p> <p><strong>Present, Non-Voting:</strong><br/> O, Ji (Security and Containment, Agent)<br/> Okorie, Dr. Udo A. (Applied Occultism, Researcher)<br/> Pensak, Roger (Security and Containment, Agent)<br/> Wettle, Dr. William W. (Research and Experimentation, Deputy Chair in Replication Studies)</p> </div> <p>It wasn't the perfect meeting makeup, but it was close. He would have liked to have included Ilse Reynders, but they still didn't have the systems in place to give her meaningful telepresence, and at any rate she wasn't the Chair or Chief of anything. Neither, of course, were several of the members of his Provisional Taskforce, and McInnis couldn't use said membership as an excuse for inviting them, since in this reality the task had never been set, and the force never assembled. He was forced instead to employ Directorial prerogative to justify the inclusions, and that set several of his executives on edge before he even had the chance to make an opening statement.</p> <p>As before, however, the statement he had to make functioned somewhat as a reset button. Nothing which had happened before seemed to matter as the import of his words settled over the crowded boardroom.</p> <p>Du was the first to speak. "It wasn't me." Speaking caused him apparent pain, and he reached up to massage his temples.</p> <p>LeClair put a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Dr. Du has been cleared, medically, memetically, and psychologically." Ngo and Lillihammer both nodded, the latter with the faintest of smirks. "He is himself."</p> <p>"Back up," said Bremmel. It was nearly a shout. "You're saying you think someone <em>erased</em> the world outside the Site?" His glassy eyes were uncharacteristically wide. "Everything? Everything outside is gone?"</p> <p>"That remains to be seen," McInnis murmured. "Part of our response will need to be—"</p> <p>"And you think he had something to do with it?" Bremmel stood up, pointing at Du with one stubby, shaking finger. "Was it that god-damn Frankenputer, Du? Is that what caused this?!"</p> <p>Styles tried to ease the portly engineer back into his seat, but he threw the taller man off with a violent shrug. He just stood there, shaking, eyes glassing over further with tears. Nascimbeni was staring at him, mouth agape with horror. Harry was staring at the table. Wettle was staring at the ceiling, and for a change, this seemed to mean something.</p> <p>"It… might have been," Du allowed. "I don't see how, but it might have been. There was someone… there was something in my head. Something that wasn't me." He bit his lip, suppressing an inappropriate quirk; he was an avid fan of Pink Floyd, and the irony must have just hit him.</p> <p>"He was possessed," Lillian explained. "By the ghost of Reuben Wirth."</p> <p>There was a sudden burst of static from the table speaker, and half the room jumped in their seats. "Sorry," said Van Rompay. "Hectic in here. Bumped my mic."</p> <p>"Ghost, you say?" Anastasios Mataxas was the Site's foremost expert on ghosts, had spent years begging and cajoling his peers into funding a ghost-hunting Section for the Site without success. "The ghost of Reuben Wirth. I wasn't aware we'd declared him dead."</p> <p>"Dr. Bremmel," the ASC said quietly. "Please, sit down."</p> <p>Bremmel sat down so hard that his chair made a loud exhalation of protest.</p> <p>Ibanez tossed a report on the table. "Officially," she said, "Wirth is only missing." McInnis admired her for having had the presence of mind to check the database; she could only have known about the altercation at the DUAL Core for a few minutes before the meeting had begun. "As part of an ongoing investigation I can't talk about right now, we have reason to think he remains at large. And he's very, <em>very</em> dangerous. There's a risk of psychic possession throughout the Site right now."</p> <p>"Which is why Chief Nascimbeni's techs are already installing telekill dampeners, repurposed from the server hall sheath, and we've moved all personnel to muster stations near them." Ngo scratched her cheek with the clip of her clipboard.</p> <p>"But they can't stay there long," LeClair added. "We still don't fully understand the health risks of that stuff."</p> <p>"There was a paper just last month, Em," Mataxas reminded her. She nodded, uncertainly.</p> <p>The ASC slid neatly back into the conversation. "At any rate, it's a necessary precaution right now. Having voiced concerns about certain temporal discrepancies occurring throughout the facility, Dr. Du has been performing tests with the DUAL Core. Attempting to ensure that the boundaries of reality are sitting where they ought."</p> <p>"What kind of discrepancies?" Lillian asked. Nobody seemed surprised that she didn't know. Lillian often failed to notice things that were happening to other people.</p> <p>"Wonky Hume readings around my lab," Bremmel muttered.</p> <p>"Inexplicable perforations in the inter-level membranes," Veiksaar continued.</p> <p>"And lost time," Mataxas concluded. "So either we were the subjects of alien abduction events — all thousand-odd of us down here — or there was something ontokinetically awkward going on. Dr. Du tasked the DUAL Core with testing a simulated baseline model of the Site's occult parameters against what actually existed on the ground, and applying spot treatments with Scranton Reality Anchors to bring us back up, or down, to code. That process was completed prior to the disappearance event, as you describe it, sir."</p> <p>"That's what you meant." Ibanez directed this at the All-Sections Chief. "That's what 'Welcome back to baseline' means."</p> <p>The ASC nodded. "That's right. You'll have to forgive me the flourish."</p> <p>A deadly silence descended. The Chief had worked to ameliorate it, but Ibanez had made a bad gaffe in asking that question in front of the others. By the furious look on her face, McInnis knew she knew.</p> <p>"We've all been worked very hard of late," he smoothly intervened. "Perhaps we're learning that specificity and precision might be substituted for poetic licence, from this point onward. For clearer communication. With respect, Nim."</p> <p>"Absolutely," the ASC agreed.</p> <p>"This has been a very efficient emergency rollout," Styles remarked. "We were prepared for something like this to happen?" As one of the few members of senior staff with only basic academic qualifications, the head of HR often resented being out of the loop in conversations like this.</p> <p>"We were prepared for an attack of some variety," the ASC responded. "Coordination between the Sections has been conducted phenomenally well, however, you're right. Everyone in this room has responded with excellent alacrity."</p> <p>It would have been considerably more difficult for McInnis to hug his giant deputy than the frail, birdlike form of Ilse Reynders, but the way the man covered for each of them so naturally made him momentarily willing to try it. He wouldn't have traded his staff for any other in the Foundation. Which was today an even luckier thing than it normally was.</p> <p>"What's this I hear about it being a Serpent's Hand attack?" Van Rompay demanded.</p> <p>"We've used the Chaos Insurgency excuse too many times," Ibanez answered. "It doesn't mean anything right now anyway. We don't know who did this, or if it was even intentional."</p> <p>"What's the rest of our response look like?" Elstrom asked. She had taken Mitchum's place at the table. Mitchum had been visiting relatives in Toronto; wherever those relatives were, he was probably still with them now.</p> <p>Several faces turned to face McInnis at once, the ones he'd expected to do so, and he gestured at the first one first. Eileen Veiksaar nodded. "I've got control of every network in the facility right now, and I'm running diagnostics. I should be able to tell you the precise extent of the Site's systems within the next few minutes." She glanced down at her tablet, and nodded again in confirmation of her own words. "When that's done, my staff—"</p> <p>"Please," McInnis interjected. "Keep this as confidential as possible. Don't involve anyone with overlapping skill sets. Skeleton crews only until I make my announcement."</p> <p>She grimaced. "And you promise that announcement will be soon?"</p> <p>"That's my intention," he answered by way of not precisely answering. She didn't look wholly satisfied. She had plenty of reasons not to.</p> <p>McInnis gestured at Stacey Laiken, who alone among the senior staff seemed totally unfazed by their apocalyptic predicament. "We'll conduct distance readings and séances," she chirped, "to determine whether other sophonts still exist beyond the bounds of the Site and subway." The fact that the subway still existed still startled McInnis. It suggested that Site-43 had been selected, lock, stock and barrel, for complete and perfect translation into this negative space… or that everything <em>but</em> Site-43 had been excised from reality with semantically surgical precision.</p> <p>"I will assist," Mataxas told her. It wasn't a question, and she smiled in easy acceptance.</p> <p>"Chief Nascimbeni?" McInnis prodded.</p> <p>The old tech hadn't turned to look at him, and he didn't do so now. When he spoke, his tone was grave and strained. "We'll do a structural review. Confirm stability. And when the inventories are done…" He glanced at Styles, whose realm wasn't only HR, but also supply management. Styles nodded. "…when that's done, I'll see what we need, but don't have, and try and build it with the manufactories." He glanced down at his hand, wriggling the clenched fingers to no appreciable rhythm. "And figure out where our air's coming from. Where our water will."</p> <p>"Dr. Du?"</p> <p>"I'm already writing up the experiments in my head. And if we can get the DUAL Core cleared for use—"</p> <p>"That's my first stop, after the diagnostics come in," Veiksaar interrupted.</p> <p>"—we can run some new sims, maybe get us closer to the truth a whole lot faster."</p> <p>"Dr. Bremmel?"</p> <p>"What?" Bremmel snapped.</p> <p>McInnis smiled at him. He intended it as a warning. By the way the man's furry brows closed together, he knew the message had been received. "Dr. Bremmel, you will coordinate with Drs. Du and Mataxas and their people as we conduct experiments into the nature of our new… neighbourhood."</p> <p>The older man nodded miserably.</p> <p>"Neighbourhood," Blank muttered.</p> <p>"What's that, Harry?" McInnis pressed.</p> <p>"How many billion people?"</p> <p>The brooding archivist made no effort to clarify or streamline his question, just left it lying ragged on the table for all of them to consider. Like a dead dog in the road. A dead world. Billions and billions of obliterated lives.</p> <p>"We don't know if that's what happened," McInnis reminded him. "And we won't, until we get to work." He straightened, and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt to indicate that the meeting was wrapping up. "The remainder of you will receive instructions before the end of the day, primarily in one of two veins: securing sustainability for our operations under this awkward situation, and further determining its nature and cause. Please work quickly, but take the time to get some rest tonight — Dr. LeClair will provide anesthetics as they are needed, to facilitate this. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, as I will need to present some manner of explanation to the rest of our personnel by mid-afternoon at the latest. Hopefully we'll have something worthwhile to tell them by then."</p> <p>"What should the rest of us do?" Pensak asked. He and the other three 'guests' were sitting at a table in the back corner of the room, watching the proceedings in respectful silence. If any of them were to test their rights in this rarefied space, it was always going to be him.</p> <p>Michael Nass, who also hadn't spoken the entire time, turned to look at him with haunted eyes. "Pray on it?" he suggested. "Failing that, as the man said, sleep on it."</p> <p>There was one variable Lillian needed a value for before she'd be able to sleep. Wirth would be a long-term problem, unless she could coax him into her brain for another brush with a kill agent, in which case he could be dealt with at any time, and it wasn't yet urgent. He'd still be smarting from the smack she'd given Du, anyway. Records showed the three security agents were already dead, which bore further investigation, but that was an Ibanez-shaped problem, and Lillian's problems were taller, leaner, and perhaps even meaner, so she focused on them instead. When everyone but their little cabal had vacated the boardroom — several of them staring with undisguised jealousy at this previously-unsuspected inner council — she had volunteered to be the one to nail down those particular moving pieces. Both Ibanez and Wettle protested, but McInnis agreed. "If they're in a hostile mood," he said, "I think Dr. Lillihammer might be the only one capable of neutralizing them."</p> <p>Ibanez begrudgingly agreed with this assessment. Wettle mumbled something into his beard, and nobody asked him to repeat himself.</p> <p>Lillian swiped her tablet on, and pulled up the incomplete framework of Eileen's Site AI. A few quick commands, and CLIOMETRIA.EXE supplied an answer that was only half unexpected: a Dr. Alis Lane was waiting for the all-clear at the Arms and Equipment mustering point. It took just a few minutes to make her way there, and no time at all to spot the women in the blue engineer's labcoat with the bright green hair.</p> <p>Lillian yanked her out of a conversation with a few of Bremmel's assistants, who looked universally relieved to be without the presence of their boss for the time it took him to wander back from the meet, and dragged her around the nearest corner. "Hey," Alis protested. "We're not supposed to leave the muster points!"</p> <p>"You'll be fine." Lillian tossed her into the nearest office, not bothering to check who it belonged to, and stalked in after her. "And so will I. We're immune."</p> <p>"Immune to what?" Alis appeared genuinely baffled. It might even have <em>been</em> genuine.</p> <p>Lillian closed the door, gently, then shoved the other woman into the nearest wall. "Dr. Lane, is it? As in 'memory lane'? You try too hard. I know you <em>need</em> to try too hard, or people forget you even exist, but still. I'd be so much better at being you than you are. You are <em>lousy</em> at being you. I have seen you fall in love with William fucking Wettle three fucking times, Alis. Your terrible taste in names and men are two of the only constants that hold across multiple universes." Alis made to widen her mouth to match her eyes, and Lillian pressed her knuckles to the lips. "I'm talking. You're listening. I know who you are. I know why you're here. I know about the <em>geistschreiber,</em> I know about the cult you belonged to, I know what you're after and what you'll do to get it. I have half a dozen ways of rendering you a rendered slab of meat instead of a thinking, feeling human being, and I have the authority to get off Scot-free for doing so. Instead, I am asking for your help. Do you want to help me, given that alternative?"</p> <p>Alis said, through the space between Lillian's fingers, "Yes."</p> <p>"Then tell me where the other three are, and do <em>not</em> presume to ask me what that means."</p> <p>The other woman's chest heaved with a tremendous sigh, and then she pulled herself away from Lillian along the wall. "The twins are in H&P. Oscar is topside, sending a report back."</p> <p>"Aww. My condolences." Lillian yanked the door open again, and made an impatient gesture for Alis to follow. "Hospital trip, you and me. Pronto."</p> <p>"What did you mean about being immune?" Alis demanded as they headed for the umbilical hall to the Admin section. They'd be entering H&P from the rear; better that her targets not see her coming.</p> <p>"The mind-stealing maniac." She nodded at the crowd assembled by the northern muster point; several of the researchers stared at them, and one even pointed. Lillian pointed back. "The ghost in our shells. Only like I said, not ours-ours. Because I'm unpossessable, to the great and lasting loss of all our local lonely hearts, and <em>you</em> are in cahoots, toots."</p> <p>The <em>geistschreiber</em> looked less confident about what was happening with every word out of Lillian's mouth. A solid proportion of them had intentionally been discursive chaff. They passed through the foyer of A&O in silence; Karen Elstrom met Lillian's eyes as they swung past Operations Control on their way through the back end offices, a question blazing in blue behind her black-framed glasses. Lillian had no answer for her.</p> <p>After that, it was just a quick skip through the northwest security station before they emerged into Health and Pathology. Lillian prodded the rival memeticist-cum-engineer to the fore, and followed her to the doctors' and nurses' mustering point in the north wards lounge. Forsythe was there, and her obnoxious goth daughter too. The latter was sulking in a corner, as she did, but her mother looked like she wanted to know what was going on. Forsythe had worked here long enough to know that any information coming from Lillian that Lillian hadn't offered up of her own volition was likely to come with barbs on, however, so she didn't press.</p> <p>It was the work of an instant to locate Lillian's next quarry, or whatever the plural of quarry might be: two tall, thin women with matching blonde locks and matching white and blue uniforms, leaning on either side of a water cooler and conversing in low tones. <em>Probably some horseshit twin language,</em> she thought as she stalked up to them.</p> <p>The first Imogen Tarrow — it was probably neither of their names, but it was the only name she had in association with them — didn't see her coming, but she definitely felt the long, thin fingers seize her by the hair and pull. The other got enough of a head start to recoil in confusion at their approach, and Lillian used the momentum to shove her into the adjoining washroom before tossing her sister in after her.</p> <p>She glanced back at Alis, and gestured at the gently swinging door. "Go on," she snapped. "We can swap smokes, and talk about boys."</p> <p>When the other woman hesitated, Lillian grabbed her by the neckline and chucked her in, too.</p> <div class="text-container-wrap"> <div class="text-container"> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> Are you there?</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>SYSTEM</strong><br/> Message could not be delivered.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> Melissa?</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>SYSTEM</strong><br/> Message could not be delivered.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> I'm going to keep trying.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>SYSTEM</strong><br/> Message could not be delivered.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> I hope you're out there somewhere.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>SYSTEM</strong><br/> Message could not be delivered.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> I'm sorry.</span></p> </div> <div class="sent"> <p><span class="text"><strong>H_Blank</strong><br/> Melissa?!</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>SYSTEM</strong><br/> Message could not be delivered.</span></p> </div> <div class="recv"> <p><span class="text"><strong>SYSTEM</strong><br/> Message could not be delivered.</span></p> </div> </div> </div> <p>In the absence of anything like a sun or a moon above, Site-43 nevertheless slept. Only the day shifts, of course, but most of the Sections didn't schedule any other. Guards still patrolled their routes or watched their monitors, technicians still roamed the halls or combed the code in search of broken things or bugs, and with the chance to make real headway for the first time in a generation, the sluggish abatement facilities still chugged their glowing gunk, and their minders minded them through the night that only fell symbolically.</p> <p>One by one the Sampis and their allies retired to their bunks for a few stolen hours of rest, 'til only one was left to ponder imponderables. She would still be hard at work when the others greeted the so-called dawn, as she always was and perhaps always would be.</p> <p>"I'm sorry," Ilse Reynders told the ghost of Allan McInnis as she hands-free perused the papers the real one had affixed to her window. "I really need to take a look at this. I'll get back to you when…"</p> <p>But of course, he wasn't really there.</p> <p>She was still glad of the company. It was lonely going, staying lucid in dreamtime.</p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p> <div class="generic"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc5"><span><span style="color: #5d5d5d">1998</span></span></h1> </div> <hr/> <p>Everything that wasn't there yet was beautiful.</p> <p>Sure, the framework was hideous and the gantries wholly practical. There wasn't an ounce of art in any of it. It was all exposed steel, rivets and capacitors and coils. It looked like the scene of a climactic battle in a science fiction thriller. But where the device would go, the outline of a thing which could encompass every possibility the universe had every itself encompassed… looking up at that emptiness, Xinyi Du knew that negative space could approach the status of art.</p> <p>"Complete to specs," Nascimbeni announced. He was holding a tablet in front of him, waiting for a signature. They stood on the threshold of the final, critical step of this first perilous stretch. Xinyi smiled, and reached for the pad.</p> <p>His father appeared as if from nowhere, snatching the tablet out of Nascimbeni's hand and waving it at the old technician as though it were a fan. "Restrictive! We talked about this, did we not? Those supports are too <em>restrictive.</em> It will take more power to turn, now. That will leave less for the simulations. You have <em>compromised the project.</em>"</p> <p>Nascimbeni chewed his inner cheek for a moment before responding. "Qiang, we <em>did</em> talk about this. The way you wanted the thing built, it would shake itself apart without constant maintenance. You saw the spatial constraints. It's going to be a bitch to look after this thing when it's done. You won't let us spin it down for repairs, so that leaves me—"</p> <p>"Bah!" The elder Du clawed at the tablet. "Here's your damn signature. Now get the hell out."</p> <p>To Xinyi's surprise, Nascimbeni smiled. "Always a pleasure doing business with you."</p> <p>Qiang scowled for a moment longer, and then as it always did, the cloud dissipated without a trace. He clapped Nascimbeni on his vinyl back, and together they looked up through the complex socket into which they would one day plug the DUAL Core. "Do you know, Noè? I can almost picture it now."</p> <p>Xinyi walked behind Nascimbeni to stand beside his father. "It's going to be amazing."</p> <p>Qiang smirked. "Only amazing? Child, it is going to be <em>incomprehensible.</em> It will take decades to begin to understand the things it tells us. And once we understand, it will put you out of a job."</p> <p>As ever, it was difficult to articulate a response to what the other man was saying. Xinyi tried anyway. "Only me? Not you?"</p> <p>The scowl threatened to return, but Nascimbeni's laugh swept it away. "He's learning to kick back, Qi. Watch your ass."</p> <p>"I don't need child-rearing advice from <em>you,</em>" the Chair of Quantum Supermechanics snapped bitterly.</p> <p>Xinyi wanted to say something to make the seconds that followed less awkward, to reclaim the abortive sense of camaraderie, but if anything would have done the trick, he couldn't think of it in time. The Chief's cheeks hollowed out, and his lower lip crumpled under his upper, and he nodded. "Suit yourself, then. When you've got something worth installing, you know my number."</p> <p>And he walked away.</p> <p>"You ruined the moment," Xinyi told his father. "Why do you always have to ruin the moment?"</p> <p>Qiang snorted, and gestured up at their absent creation. "You still don't understand. After all I've tried to teach you. <em>That,</em>" and he stabbed a finger in the empty air, "will let you make every moment precisely what you want it to be. <em>That,</em> is where the future is. Keep your head up, child. Keep your focus high. And before it replaces you, you might get the chance to see the world as it does."</p> <p>"Will," Xinyi muttered. "<em>Will</em> do. It hasn't arrived yet."</p> <p>"Then what am I doing, still standing here?" Qiang asked, almost thinking aloud more than responding, and he stalked out after Nascimbeni.</p> </div> <div class="udoflashback"> <p>She stood in the desert.</p> <p>The sands were not warm, but cool. That didn't matter, because she was warm. Udo could feel a blazing heat within her breast, within her eyes, within her soul, and it radiated out to the sparkling expanse of silica which surrounded her. She knew that with a single gesture she could sink into those cool sands and draw them up around her, that the warmth from within would fuse them together, that she could become the desert and in so doing cause the desert to become <em>more.</em> She knew that some day she would do this thing. It was as inevitable as the rising of the moons in the sky.</p> <p>A stirring of wind against her naked skin, her hair recoiling away in auburn streamers. She turned her head to look, and what she saw was a rising storm on the far horizon.</p> <p>She was being watched. The air was expectant. Somewhere in the darkening cloud, something stirred.</p> <p>A bird cried out in shrill protest, then thunder.</p> <p>It was coming.</p> </div> <div class="generic"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc6"><span><span style="color: #5d5d5d">2001</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="http://www.scpwiki.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>He was about to ask her to give it to him straight when she said: "I can't do anything more. I'm sorry."</p> <p>Emilié LeClair had fantastic bedside manner. She was a kind, considerate, empathetic physician despite decades of work at the SCP Foundation, the world's most efficient machine for grinding down goodwill. Perhaps it was that empathy, that insight into the characters of her patients and their loved ones, which had told her how best to break the news to him.</p> <p>Or perhaps she was simply tired. She always seemed to be tired, these days.</p> <p>Gedeon Van Rompay looked down at his wife. She was on her back in a hospital bed, blue and white sheets tucked under her chin, eyes closed, breathing shallow but regular. She looked peaceful. He felt like a followup question was indicated, like he ought to protest this casual cutting-off of Diana Van Rompay's life story branches, leaving only the dead leader, but he didn't have it in him. He was tired, too, and if a medical doctor and Section Chair at Site-43 told you there was nothing she could do, then there was quite simply nothing to be done.</p> <p>Just a day before, Diana had been digging in their garden in Grand Bend. She'd been planting a bed of azaleas. So far as he knew, she'd never gardened before. So far as he knew, she hated bright and garish colours, and that was the only kind of colour azaleas came in. He hadn't asked her why she'd done this, and now he never could.</p> <p>"Okay," he said finally. He met LeClair's gaze. "What happens next?"</p> <p>The doctor's deep blue eyes were wells of sympathy now; not empathy, because she'd never experienced anything like this before herself, but instead a generous fellow-feeling. "We can keep her here as long as necessary," she said simply.</p> <p>Van Rompay had panicked when he found Diana on the kitchen floor, trowel in hand, jeans filthy with soil, drooling onto the asbestos tiles he'd never gotten around to replacing. <em>They're safe as long as the glazing doesn't crack. I can put it off for another year. This isn't relevant. You're spiralling.</em> He'd called his agents at 43 instead of a local hospital, both out of habit and the knowledge that there was no major medical facility within Grand Bend. He'd driven his wife to the clandestine facility himself, carried her down the topside elevator and placed her on a waiting gurney. He'd pulled and abused his rank, and as of yet there had been no obvious consequences. It was only now dawning on him that he'd ensured his wife would die one kilometre underground.</p> <p><em>Buried alive, then buried dead.</em></p> <p>"As long as necessary," he repeated. "So, until the end?"</p> <p>"That's right." LeClair didn't tell him there were no other options, this time. He took it as read.</p> <p>"Can you spare a private room?" he asked, on autopilot. Running through the checklist.</p> <p>"Isn't this…" LeClair blinked, then raised her hand halfway to her head as though seriously considering slapping her forehead. "Right." She glanced at the drawn curtain beside them as though seeing it for the first time. "She won't need much in the way of palliative care, and frankly it won't be very long anyway. She's only in the ward because we thought we might need to work quickly."</p> <p>"I'm really sorry," said a male voice from beyond the curtain. Van Rompay had no idea who it belonged to, and didn't care.</p> <p>He sighed. "Alright. Let's get her settled. Then I need to have a talk with my people."</p> <p>To his surprise, the doctor reached out to take his shoulder in one spindly-fingered hand. "Are you going to be okay? Do you have some place to stay tonight?"</p> <p>He laughed. It had none of his usual boisterous bluster. "I have an embarassment of places to stay, Emilié. An empty dorm, a full barracks, and an empty house."</p> <p>The fingers tightened their grip. "What I mean is, do you have anyone to look in on you? You shouldn't be alone."</p> <p>This, he felt, was out of line. Off-script. She knew him well enough, everyone at Site-43 did, to know that he could weather any storm on his own. There was something more than concern in her sleepy eyes, now.</p> <p>He opened his mouth to tell her yes, he'd be fine, and instead he found himself telling her "No."</p> <p>She squeezed his shoulder. "Stay in your dorm tonight. I'll come by after my shift."</p> <p>He found himself nodding. He found himself rising from the chair. He found himself taking her fingers in his, and awkwardly shaking her hand before releasing it. He found himself walking for the door, away from the only thing in his life that had ever been strictly personal, and on his way out of the wardroom he saw the fresh-faced and freckled researcher in the next bed with his leg up in a cast.</p> <p>"Hey," the kid said weakly. "I'm really, really sorry. I hope it turns out okay."</p> </div> <div class="jandm"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc7"><span><span style="color: #cc9900">2007</span></span></h1> <p><strong><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><span style="color: #990011">Grand Cove</span>: Grand Bend, Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</span></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"You got her all excited for nothing."</p> <p>Nascimbeni grunted. "I said I'd think about it. That was supposed to mean 'no'."</p> <p>His son took a long draft of beer. He only tipped it back when Nascimbeni said something that irritated him, and he needed the extra seconds to compose a less cutting response. He had drained most of the bottle this way already. "She's twelve years old, dad. Everything that isn't 'no' means 'yes'."</p> <p>They were sitting on the back patio of Gallo's bungalow in Grand Bend, watching his granddaughter chase her Labrador retriever in circles on the grass. It was an open question which animal would tire first. Right now it looked like they could romp forever.</p> <p>"I don't see what the big deal is." Gallo was practically sighing every sentence. "It's a water treatment plant. Other kids are getting factory tours. One of her friends' father works at a meat packing place, and he's not being squeamish. Why should you?"</p> <p>Nascimbeni had been pulling on the bottle whenever Gallo said something he didn't want to respond to. This had already emptied it entirely. "It just isn't safe."</p> <p>Gallo tapped the glass table with the bottom of his bottle. "Explain that. Explain how it isn't safe where you work."</p> <p>"It just isn't. Okay? Trust me on this."</p> <p>In the yard, Flora screamed. Nascimbeni started, and leaned toward her protectively, but she was only razzling the dog. Gallo hadn't so much as flinched; as her father, he knew the difference between a scream of joy and a scream of fear or pain.</p> <p>No, that wasn't entirely it. It wasn't just because he was her father. It was because <em>he</em> had actually been here every day for the past twelve years.</p> <p>"I don't get you." Gallo tapped the glass again to regain his father's attention. "What's had you so on edge?"</p> <p>"Nothing." Nascimbeni tipped the bottle back once more, just in case. Just for something to do. It was dry as a bone. "Look. I'll see what I can figure out, okay? Maybe there's something.'</p> <p>Gallo smiled. "No you won't."</p> <p>"I will!"</p> <p>"I remember that tone. You sounded just like that when you told me Romo couldn't stay over on Christmas Eve."</p> <p>Nascimbeni froze.</p> <p>Gallo frowned. "Christ, is that it? Tell me that's not it."</p> <p>Nascimbeni set down his bottle, and wiped the condensation off on his jeans.</p> <p>"He slipped in the shower, dad. It wasn't your fault. It's not <em>related.</em>"</p> <p>Nascimbeni stood up. "I should get going."</p> <p>"Can I tell her you reconsidered?"</p> <p>A force he couldn't control sent him stumbling against the table, and as the bottle fell to shatter against the paving stones that he and Gallo and Romolo Ambrogi had set on a sunny summer day not so long ago and not so different from this one, he shouted at his son: "No means <em>no!</em>"</p> </div> <div class="generic"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc8"><span><span style="color: #5d5d5d">2009</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"No, that's alright," Karen simpered. "I can wait for you to finish this year's report. Right now I want to talk to you about Philip Deering."</p> <p>The psychologist's face fell further. "Philip Deering."</p> <p>"I have concerns about his containment procedures."</p> </div> <div class="muddle"> <p>In the modern era, most structures are planned from first principles. Their forms follow their projected functions. But if they last long enough, they are almost always adapted to suit the specific needs of those little bundles of action and aspiration they are built to contain: their human users. Site-43 is no different.</p> <p>Janitorial and Maintenance Technician Second Class Philip Deering has had a small but immediately recognizable effect on the contents of Site-43. Unbeknownst to the man himself, he is SCP-5056-B in the Foundation's database. 5056-A is a mirror monster that follows him around relentlessly, which only he can hear. The containment procedures for this joint anomaly are simple: Deering is not to leave Site-43. As he's never showed any initiative to do so on his own, what this looks like in practice is bureaucratic obstruction to make scheduling a vacation seem like too much of a hassle, and workplace propitiation to make transfering careers seem less enticing. His physical containment apparatus is cheaper than most, but omnipresent: a massive program of mirror-mounting throughout the Site to ensure that -A always has somewhere safe to manifest — because it flips its lid with an ear-splitting shriek when it doesn't — which has essentially neutralized the problem.</p> <p>One man's needs, or rather the necessities of handling one man's personal peculiarities, can have a cascade effect on everyone sharing his space. The staff of Site-43 now see their own faces far more often every working day than do their counterparts at comparable facilities. Luckily, for the most part, they're also much more capable of facing those reflections without shame.</p> <div style="text-align: right;"> <p>— Blank, <em>Lines in a Muddle</em></p> </div> </div> <div class="generic"> <p>"What kind of concerns?"</p> <p>Karen plucked a piece of paper from inside her tight orange vest, unfolded it, and handed it over. It was handwritten, and judging by the look on her face, Ngo recognized the script.</p> <div class="blockquote"> <p>Hello Dr. Elstrom,<br/> You don't know me, but my name is Philip Deering. I was wondering if you<br/> I would like it very much if you<br/> Do you think that you and I</p> </div> <p>Karen felt her nostrils twitch as Ngo read the simple note. When the psychologist looked up at her, questions in her eyes, Karen said: "He's getting lazier all the time, don't you think? Didn't even bother to cross each line out."</p> <p>Ngo was obviously confused. "Did he give this to you? It's obviously not finished."</p> <p>"Yes," Karen agreed, adding as much patronizing sneer into her tone as she felt propriety allowed, "it is <em>obviously</em> not finished. But the point is, he might have finished it. He was going to ask me on a date, Dr. Ngo. With a <em>note.</em>"</p> <p>Ngo's mouth worked back and forth for a few seconds as she considered her next words. "I assume Security and Containment found this while sweeping his quarters."</p> <p>"Of course. He's a permanent security risk. If we need to step up containment efforts, make them more <em>overt,</em> we need to know that as soon as possible."</p> <p>"So, what do you want me to do about it? It feels more like an HR issue than anything psychological."</p> <p>Karen tented her fingers on the other woman's desk. "I want you to comb your other psych profiles, and find another rock for this limpet to cling to. There's enough garbage piled on me already."</p> </div> <div class="flashblank"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p><strong><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><span style="color: #990011">Forrestall's Lagoon</span>: Georgian Bay, Lake Huron, Ontario, Canada</span></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Harry stood on the beach, and stared.</p> <p>Their sailboat bobbed on the water, not that there was very much current in the sheltered inlet. He was far enough up the rocky beach that the bizarrely flat deck was flush with the horizon; he smiled to think how many people had pointed and stared at the little S2 with its washboard profile, though that wasn't much compensation for how often he and his parents banged their skulls on the shortened ceiling. "Watch your head" was the most common thing they said to each other on their Great Lake vacations, typically as ironic commentary on yet another brutal bump.</p> <p>The water was clear, crystal clear, little more than a coat of gloss on the bowl of Canadian Shield in which they were anchored. He followed the anchor chain down, down, <em>down</em> into the depths, to where it nestled in the forecastle of the massive sunken ship, and shivered in the warm sunlight.</p> <p>It sat upright on the basin floor, masts intact, rigging still in place. He was no good at judging distance, but it had to be a hundred feet below the surface of the water; the crow's nest was safely beneath the level of the S2's stubby keel, though not by much. Seeing the squat boat rocking gently in waters little more refractive than air above the unmanageably vast galleon — was it a galleon? What made the distinction? — filled him with nauseous vertigo. At every instant it felt that gravity must reassert itself, and the lesser fall into the greater, and be lost.</p> <p>He walked to the water's edge and peered at the quivering apparition below. The water tinted it faintly blue, like a ghost ship, but he could make out every detail. Bowsprit and figurehead, decks fore and aft, stem to stern he searched the vessel for some clue as to how it might possibly exist. The ship's height and his distance from it made it seem as though it were leaning away, and he squinted to see how solidly its belly rested against the rock, as though in so doing he might discover a fatal flaw, and… what? Do what? He couldn't dive down and stabilize the thing, even had it not been so massive, because he couldn't dive at all. He could only barely swim. He'd never even had the courage to put his head below water and open his eyes, and he certainly wouldn't try it with the <em>Weight</em> looming up from below him.</p> <p>All that drowned space. What might be floating within it, rotting, rocking in that sunken cradle? Who did it all belong to? Who was <em>responsible?</em></p> <p>Beside him, she whispered, "I am," but he felt his own lips forming the words.</p> </div> <div class="flashdel"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc9"><span><span style="color: #2b5fb3">1994</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><span style="color: #f7f7f7">████████-██</span>, Village of Zevala, Argentina</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Fina ran her fingers over the sleek black sheathe, then experimentally inserted her arm into it. The fit wasn't snug, as she'd known it wouldn't be, but if the manuals she'd been consulting were correct, that wouldn't matter. She grasped the cuff, and twisted; with an almost subaudible hiss, the sheathe conformed to the shape of the muscles in her arm. She flexed, and tested the blood flow to her fingers. The material moved like nothing she'd ever worn before.</p> <p>She nodded, and left the rest of the suit lying there on the table. <em>For now.</em></p> <p>The halls of <span style="color: #f7f7f7">████████-██</span> were stark and windowless, nothing so much as a corkboard to break up the tiled monotony, and not for the first time she found herself missing the cozy, porous shack she'd grown up in. The way it swelled and settled in tune with the temperature, the way it whistled in the wind and moaned with the moving of the earth, the way it smelled. The way the air tasted. In here, it tasted like metal… though probably she should have been glad there was any air at all, considering how long this place had been abandoned.</p> <p><em>And how long is that, precisely?</em></p> <p>She didn't know. There were voluminous records left lying around, and she'd consulted them over and over across the long <span style="color: #f7f7f7">████</span> she'd already spent living in this spartan space. She had chosen to tackle the problem methodically, much as she'd done while dismantling the Insurgency's hold on her ravaged village; she had always loved puzzles, in her past life, and that approach suited the scene well. An access card here would open a door there, a computer behind that door would unlock a hidden partition somewhere else, and behind that partition she might find a ring of keys, or a cache of documents, or in the case of the locker room she'd just accessed after <span style="color: #f7f7f7">█ ████</span> of trying, something she could actually use to settle the situation outside.</p> <p>Not that it was getting any worse, or more urgent, in her absence. <span style="color: #f7f7f7">██ ██████ ███ ████ ███ ████</span>, they'd be waiting for her just the same.</p> <p>Still. The rarefied air made her sinuses sore, and her feet ached from the lack of give on the hard ceramic floors, and she found herself desperately longing for the sensation of sunlight on her skin. She had been raised on the beach, in the bay, on the hills and in the forests. That was where she had lived all her life, and while so much of her had also died there, that which remained…</p> <p>She gummed her teeth meaninglessly. For the first few <span style="color: #f7f7f7">████</span> she'd tried to sing, to comfort herself, but the words wouldn't come. Humming had worked no better. She had apparently reached the end of music. More than <span style="color: #f7f7f7">█ ████</span> of attempting to talk to herself had been similarly fruitless. Still the words wouldn't come. It felt somehow disrespectful to the dead. Revenants weren't meant to speak. They were meant to avenge.</p> <p>She reached her final scrounging target for the day. It had taken <span style="color: #f7f7f7">███████ █????? █████</span> to find the Level 4 access key that would open this vault. The schematics she'd found elsewhere suggested it housed some abandoned and forgotten research project, but her time in ceramic hell had taught her that things were rarely as they seemed where the <span style="color: #f7f7f7">█████████ ████ ██ ██████████ ██████</span> was concerned. She swiped her card through the reader, took a deep breath, and pressed the big green button.</p> <p>In another <span style="color: #f7f7f7">█████</span>, though she could not yet have imagined it, she would be standing on <span style="color: #f7f7f7">███████ ██████</span>.</p> </div> <div class="flashwet"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc10"><span><span style="color: #6666ff">2009</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="http://www.scpwiki.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-169">Site-169</a>: Glassford Hill, Yavapai County, Arizona, United States of America</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>Vincent Bohart was like a pile of laundry. Clean or dirty, it didn't matter.</p> <p><em>Probably dirty.</em></p> <p>Wettle had always hated putting his laundry back in the dresser, or into the machine. He'd set himself the mental task of hauling it all from the basket and stuffing it in where it went — in the case of his dresser, he had enough wrinkles on his person and his character that wrinkles on his clothes didn't matter — and no matter what, he'd drop something.</p> <p>Everything worked that way for him. Positively, <em>negatively</em> everything. If he tried not to knock over his drinking glass, knock it over he would. If he tried not to say the wrong thing…</p> <p><em>Focus.</em> Vincent Bohart was like that. Like an armful of dirty laundry that was bound and determined to land on your clean new shoes. Or a fly that made it its personal mission in life to land on your eyeball. If you tried to avoid him, he'd zero in like a cruise missile without even seeming to target you intentionally.</p> <p>"Bilbo!" he crowed, putting an arm around Wettle's shoulders. "How's my favourite…" He let the adjective hang, modifying nothing.</p> <p>"Vince."</p> <p>"Some spread, huh?"</p> <p>Wettle shrugged. The Foundation used Site-169 for social functions, which had always struck him as out of character with its overall shadow government vibe, and he avoided as many invitations to attend as he could. There was an actual hard limit to that; more than one department was dedicated to tracking each employee's progress towards the final crack, and forestalling it as long as possible, so here he was by their polite but firm 'request'. At a <em>mixer,</em> of all things.</p> <p>Bohart had certainly been mixing, judging by the state of his breath. "You know, Bilbo," he burped conspiratorially, "lotta folks been asking about you since you left. Like whatsisface. And whatsername. And the ugly one."</p> <p>Wettle nodded.</p> <p>"What the hell've you been up to, man?!"</p> <p>He could have said anything. Bohart wouldn't remember in the morning. He said nothing instead.</p> <p>"Listen." The balding old mooch pulled a deck of cards out of nowhere, and brandished them at Wettle. "These little beauties. You know what we're gonna do with these, you and me? There's a Level 4 poker game in the habs right now, and we're gonna crash it. You know what those other Directors get paid?" He blinked, and a look of almost genuine hurt flashed across his unfocused eyes. "Do you? I don't. But it's a lot. Now, you're my ticket in. I've got just the job for a man of your talents. Remember those chips you used to steal? Same principle. Now, in poker, they use these little plastic discs called—"</p> <p>"I've been saving the world," Wettle snapped. "There's a magic explosion that happens every year, where I work, and I make sure it happens. That's what I've been up to."</p> <p>Bohart's brow furrowed. He returned the cards to the uncertain whence from which they'd come. He withdrew his arm from Wettle's shoulder, like footage of Phil Silvers run in reverse. "Magic explosion. Where you work."</p> <p>"Yes."</p> <p>"Every year."</p> <p>"That's right."</p> <p>Bohart shook his head sorrowfully. "Jesus Christ, you're still just a fuckup?"</p> </div> <div class="flashboss"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc11"><span><span style="color: #990099">1970</span></span></h1> <p><strong><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><span style="color: #990011">The Rambles</span>: Herefordshire, West Midlands, England, United Kingdom</span></strong></p> </div> <hr/> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>When the lines are in a muddle – as they very often are –<br/> When the break’s a mile away from you, or maybe twice as far,<br/> When you have to sort the trouble out, and fix it on the run,<br/> It’s fine to know that you can go, when everything is done,</p> <p>To a cosy little dug-out (and the subject of this ode)<br/> Just a comfy little bivvy on the – Road,<br/> A sheltered, sandbagged doorway with the flap flung open wide,<br/> And a pal to grin a greeting when you step inside.</p> </div> </div> <p>"What purpose is this em dash serving?" Allan asked his father.</p> <p>"Which?" Malcolm McInnis leaned over the book to see where his son was pointing. "Oh. That's an en-dash, actually."</p> <p>"Helpful," Allan sighed.</p> <p>His father didn't seem to hear him, locked into lecture preparation mode. "Well, there's two possibilities. Sometimes in the late Victorian era and a little while after, they'd do that with proper nouns for some reason. Just sort of cross them out. That's one possibility. Of course, it's also a war poem, so the name of the road might have been stricken by the censors. Army security. And you can't discount the possibility that he just never came up with a name he liked, and forgot to finish the line. Either way, it doesn't matter."</p> <p>"Mm." Allan twiched his nose. "It does break the scansion, though."</p> <p>He could hear his father rolling his eyes. "That's not the sort of detail I'd like you to focus on, Allan."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>When the weather’s simply damnable – cold sleet and driving rain –<br/> When the poles snap off like matches and the lines are down again,<br/> And you rip your freezing fingers as you work the stubborn wire,<br/> It’s great to get back home again, and dry off by the fire.</p> <p>In a cheery little dug-out (and you know the kind I mean)<br/> With a red-hot stove a-roaring, and a floor that’s none too clean,<br/> A pipe that’s filled and waiting and a book that will not wait,<br/> And a cup of steaming coffee if you come back late.</p> </div> </div> <p>"What <em>would</em> you like me to focus on, father?"</p> <p>Malcolm sat down at the polished oak table and tapped the poetry book for emphasis. "Tell me what mood he's going for."</p> <p>"Cozy."</p> <p>"Yes. But in contrast. Contrast with what?"</p> <p>"War. He is making the unique and percipient observation that war is unpleasant."</p> <p>Malcolm's nose twitched, too. Allan made a mental note to lose the affectation. "Keep reading."</p> <div class="blockquote"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <p>It may look a little crowded, and the roof’s a trifle low,<br/> But it’s water-tight – or nearly – and it wasn’t built for show,<br/> And when Woolly Bears are crumping and the shrapnel sprays around,<br/> You feel a whole lot safer if you’re underneath the ground</p> <p>In a rat-proof, rain-proof dug-out (and it’s splinter-proof as well)<br/> Where we got the stuff to build it is a thing I mustn’t tell,<br/> But we’ve made it strong and solid, and we’re cosy, rain or shine,<br/> In our happy little dug-out on the firing line.</p> </div> </div> <p>Allan closed the book. "So, solidarity."</p> <p>"Correct."</p> <p>"Forbearance."</p> <p>"Also correct."</p> <p>"The comforts of home as a salve against troubles without."</p> <p>"Precisely."</p> <p>Allan considered. "This regards my applications."</p> <p>He had applied to a wide swathe of Europe's colleges and universities, in the secret hope against hope that England's best wouldn't want him. No such luck, of course; he'd been courted by Oxford and Cambridge both almost immediately, and King's, and London, and Manchester. Helsinki, Copenhagen, Utrecht and the rest flooded in after, and though he'd tried to intercept that mail before it reached his parents, no such luck. His father's response had been typically McInnis: he'd entered the library of their spacious manor home, and didn't come out until he'd located this precise volume, and presented it to his son for perusing and commentary.</p> <p>"Is the point well-taken?"</p> <p>Allan considered further. "Helsinki is cold?"</p> <p>Malcolm sighed. "Allan, the perspective in that poem was hard-won. Some people have to go through great hardship to discover the value of home. Some <em>don't</em> have to, because they can learn from the mistakes of others. War is almost always a mistake. Leaving your people behind is almost always a mistake."</p> <p>"Mm." Allan popped the book back open to the correct page. His fingers just had the knack. "This says it was written by Edgar McInnis. Relative?"</p> <p>"Distant."</p> <p>"In which sense?"</p> <p>"Both. A distant relative on distant shores. I believe he teaches university in Canada, now."</p> <p>"Ah. One of those."</p> <p>A cloud came over his father's face at the oblique reference, and his body language closed off. "Is this going someplace?"</p> <p>"A Canadian's words instruct me on the value of English hearth and home, presumably learned in… France, I would imagine? Travel truly does broaden the mind."</p> <p>Malcolm picked up the book, and stood. "You're determined to be stubborn, then."</p> <p>"I understand those to be synonyms."</p> <p>"Well, I only hope you remember 'Our Dug-Out' when you're cold and alone, wherever you end up."</p> <p>"I think I shall," he nodded. "I heartily agree that there's much to be said for warmth, shelter, and wholesome good company."</p> </div> <div class="generic"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc12"><span><span style="color: #5d5d5d">1999</span></span></h1> <p><span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"><strong><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43">Site-43</a>: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada</strong></span></p> </div> <hr/> <p>"Come in, technician."</p> <p>McInnis could have left the last word off, and she would never have known if he knew his ten o'clock from his eleven. Or ten thirty, or ten fifteen; she wasn't really clear how much of his schedule she'd laid claim to when his secretary pencilled her in. He'd appended her title so she'd know he knew, and she appreciated that.</p> <p>Perhaps he knew that too. Maybe he was feeling agreeable. Maybe they could come to an agreement.</p> <p><em>Maybe stop thinking, start walking, and start <span style="text-decoration: underline;">talking</span>.</em></p> <p>Eileen entered the Director's office. McInnis was sitting at what she still thought of as Scout's desk, hands clasped, friendly smile in place as always. He gestured with his forehead at the visitor's chair. "Please."</p> <p>She tried to cross the empty space with alacrity, but there was rather a lot of it, and her legs weren't very long. The void left McInnis and his tiny scatter of furniture the room's focal point, which made him look strangely small — he wasn't very tall, but he looked positively elfin from a distance, sat behind that monstrous credenza. She found this inexplicably calming; inexplicable until she realized it gave him a superficial resemblance to his predecessor. Scout had shrunk quite a lot in the last few years of his Directorship. Perhaps this, too, was a sign.</p> <p>She sat down.</p> <p>"What can I help you with today, Dr. Veiksaar?"</p> <p>Not just in general, but today specifically. He might help with something else tomorrow, if she needed it. She was overthinking in her panic, but his degree was in communications, after all. He was undoubtedly overthinking his own words too. She only hoped she had chosen hers just as carefully, rehearsed as they would be. "Sir, I have a moral concern about DR-RHETORIC."</p> <p>He nodded. No surprise, and the smile didn't falter. "I see. Please, go on."</p> <p>DR-RHETORIC was an expensive, complicated lie. Site-43 claimed to be developing a predictive machine with superhuman intelligence, capable of answering all manner of scientific queries, particularly in regards to the sticky field of acroamatic abatement. Eileen and her fellow technicians had spent years developing AI algorithms and self-repairing circuitry, enough to plausibly support such an electronic agent, but much of it was only a blind. All the DR-RHETORIC program really did was filter out the more problematic noise issuing from its central processing unit: reality bender Wynn Rydderech, very much a living, breathing human being, driven slowly mad by his own immeasurable powers in an endless underground factory of his own design. Her team had fed fibre optic cables down through the Site's ventral membranes, and set up their dishonest human-to-human interface, and published their lies to a smattering of polite applause. The system worked. Dr. Rydderech was contributing again to what Scout had called the Good Work, whether he really understood it or not.</p> <p>"I've been going through the noise reports." DR-RHETORIC parsed out anything personal or inscrutable that Rydderech attempted to communicate, and wrote it to a junk file for review and deletion. To keep up the illusion. To allow his abusers to abuse him in innocence. <em>You should be saying this out loud.</em> Instead, she said: "He's becoming more erratic. I believe he's in pain, sir."</p> <p>McInnis nodded again. The placidly welcoming expression hadn't changed. "Do you judge DR-RHETORIC's efficacy as a project has been negatively affected by these developments?"</p> <p>It was so precise, so measured, that she almost wondered if <em>he'd</em> rehearsed his response without first having heard her complaints. But he had always been honest with her so far, at least so far as he'd been able, given their respective positions and clearance, so she owed him the truth. This was, after all, at least partially about what was true. "No, sir. Efficiency continues to rise. It's possible… I've heard it suggested by the analysts," those few who were cleared to know where all this data was really coming from, "that he produces more data, and better, in a state of agitation. But…" She spread her hands hopelessly. He had to meet her halfway, or there was no point in making this entreaty.</p> <p>"But you don't believe torturing a mentally ill old man is justified by the value his ramblings bring our organization."</p> <p>She exhaled. She hadn't realized it, but she'd stopped breathing for a moment. "That's right, sir."</p> <p>Once more, he nodded. "So noted. What else is troubling you this morning, Eileen?"</p> <p>He hadn't called her Eileen before. He'd parcelled her identifiers out, one at a time — technician, Dr. Veiksaar, Eileen — demonstrating mastery of the subject, humanizing the interaction by degrees, and pacing the conversation at the same time. But he hadn't actually resolved that conversation's topic, had he? "I… well, I mean…"</p> <p>He placed both hands on the desk blotter, palms up. It was a very Scout thing to do. "You may rest assured that your moral indignation will be taken into account. There are considerations in this matter to which you are not privy, but I promise that my commitment to Dr. Rydderech's well-being is unflagging. If there is anything else I might help you with today, by all means let me know."</p> <p>She swallowed. Again her body had been hard at work without her knowledge; a lump she hadn't felt before jogged up and down as the gulp passed through. "No, sir," she breathed hoarsely. Lamely. "That's all, sir."</p> <p>He clasped his hands again. "Thank you. You're doing excellent work, technician. Chief Briggs is very pleased."</p> <p>She nodded. She stood. She glanced down at the desk blotter, then with some effort, up at him. "Excellent work, sir?"</p> <p>"That's right."</p> <p>"But is it <em>good</em> work? Sir?"</p> <p>She thought she saw a flash of something in his grey eyes, just then, but it might have been her still-hopeful imagination. She'd imagined a lot of things about Allan McInnis, thought she'd seen quite a lot in him, and apparently she had been mistaken.</p> <p>He still looked like Scout as she exited the office and looked back, gently shutting the door between them. But in her mind's eye, try though she might, all she could see was Rudolph Marroquin.</p> </div> <div class="flashyhammer"> <p>There were gears grinding in the distance, and the sound of padding footsteps, and black-slit yellow eyes watching from every corner.</p> <p>Rydderech hardly seemed to notice. "Seven things, for you are one of seven. I can tell you only one today, and this, I do regret." He smiled with a sadness so pure and profound, aged to expressive perfection, that even in the dream of the memory she felt tears welling up in her own eyes. "That is the key, the theme, the central node of this network of cascading failures. The child of memory and the mother of shame."</p> <p>"What?" she said. "What is?"</p> <p>"We are breaking the laws of the universe, Lillian," he scolded her. "The least you can do is pay closer attention."</p> </div> <p>She woke up.</p> <div style="text-align: center;"> <h1 id="toc13"><span><span style="color: #990011">2011</span></span></h1> <h2 id="toc14"><span>9 September</span></h2> </div> <hr/> <p>They were quite a throng now, Nascimbeni thought. McInnis had everyone not on the taskforce but implicated in the crisis camping out in his secretary's workroom and personal quarters — Zulfikar had endured the ignominy with faux good grace, and retired to a single room down the hall — which were now filled with bedrolls and bug-out bags. Until the announcement, which would come in a few short hours, they didn't want to lose sight of anyone whose knowledge stretched farther than their trustworthiness.</p> <p>Pensak and O were told to keep an eye on the three <em>geistschreiber,</em> which allowed for the maintenance of the polite fiction that the two agents weren't themselves awkwardly overinformed. Ibanez made a point of keeping out of their hair; if she'd taken a strong interest, that would have rung hollow. It wasn't safe for anyone to feel ill-used until after the cat was well out of the bag.</p> <p>Nobody saw where the ASC was sleeping. Probably there were extra bedrooms tucked away in the deeper reaches of the Director's Complex; it had once been the Directors' Complex, after all.</p> <p>"I've got a lead," Lillian was saying. "Don't ask what it is yet, in case it doesn't pan out."</p> <p>"Why would that preclude you from telling us?" Udo asked.</p> <p>Lillian glanced at Harry, who would normally explain his friend's eccentricities to the group with a dose of wry sarcasm. But he wasn't on speaking terms with Udo anymore, so he glanced back at her and shrugged defiantly. "Because," Lillian sighed, "I hate being wrong. So let it be."</p> <p>"I've read Veiksaar's report," Nascimbeni grumbled, "and compiled my own. Long story short, we seem to be sustainable for the moment. All systems are getting enough of what they need, be that air, water, or electricity. The power's coming from the geothermal vents, which are still intact so far as we can see; no idea how far down the bedrock goes. The water supply's always been overstocked for AcroAbate purposes, and like the vents, the wells are still active too. As for the air, I don't really understand it, but there seems to be no shortage. The empty space around the Site is packed with breathable oxygen-nitrogen." He rattled it all off like it was nothing, because to his mind, it was. He'd cried himself to sleep, and woke up feeling empty on a cold, dry pillow.</p> <p>"Just about everybody in AAF-A knows the world fucked off out there," Del said. "But Gedeon's got them under control. We'll pipe in the announcement when you make it, Allan, but I'd like to send some extra guards through the subway just in case it gets ugly over there."</p> <p>"Assuming the subway is still breathable," McInnis mused, "I think I'd rather we ferried them back here for the address. We should face this crisis a single, united body."</p> <p>She shrugged assent.</p> <p>"Nothing in the archives yet to explain what happened." Harry's voice was low and lazy enough that he could have been talking in his sleep. He didn't make eye contact with anyone.</p> <p>"I don't know what's going on either," Wettle added unnecessarily.</p> <p>"Dr. Okorie?" McInnis prompted.</p> <p>By the sound of her voice, she'd been crying too. The glasses hid most of the damage. "Distance readings pick up no human beings past the boundaries of the Site. Séances only function for people who died down here." She wrinkled her nose. "I'd like to try contacting the spirits of people who died in baseline, but not this timeline. I didn't explain it that precisely, of course, but Mataxas is game."</p> <p>"I'm sure he is," the Director smiled.</p> <p>"We've lost thirty-four personnel topside," the ASC began as soon as McInnis turned to face him. Always in tune, those two. "Including Chief Mitchum, the camp patrols, and of course the Nexus-94 reserves."</p> <p>They let that sit for a moment, respectfully. The big man had just described the potential annihilation of all the people he'd worked for years to safeguard. His face was unreadable; it probably helped that McInnis had briefed him on the nature of the alternate timelines, but it could only help so much.</p> <p>Nascimbeni knew that for a fact.</p> <p>He remembered a few things he hadn't already said, but needed to, and interjected when the moment had passed. "Exterior survey is underway, techs and guards and drones. So far, it seems pretty clear that the Site and its environs have been deliberately preserved."</p> <p>"Or modelled," said Du, "and replicated." His temples were now a brilliant shade of violet.</p> <p>"Our friends in the back room claim not to know anything." Lillian suddenly grinned. "I agree with that assessment. But I'll be grilling them anyway, and just about everyone else besides. Harry can keep digging in his old files, but I'm going to produce a few new ones."</p> <p>"How many?" McInnis asked her.</p> <p>"You said we've lost thirty-four people, Chief?" The ASC nodded. "Then roughly one thousand, minus thirty-four."</p> <p>The auditorium was packed. McInnis looked out from the central stage at his people, nearly all of them, shifting his stance and pacing the little square of carpet to grace each compass point in turn with attention and affection. He'd discarded the podium, and his hands were in his pockets. It wasn't a conversation, and they weren't all equals, but he wanted them to know that they were all affected equally just the same.</p> <p>The furor had risen and fallen like a summer storm. A few shocked exclamations, a sudden smattering of bewildered coughs and cries, a torrent of confused shouting, a roar of voices like wind in the treetops, then finally the gradual fall of a stunned silence. He waited patiently for the last mutterings to die away before resuming his address.</p> <p>"I have stated this plainly, without elaboration, so that you might understand the gravity of what we do next. Every act performed in this facility for the next twelve months can potentially contribute to the restoration of the human race, if indeed we are its final representatives, or at least our restoration to the fold, wherever they or we may presently roam. It might also contribute to our permanent stranding out here in the black, a testament to our own lack of planning and discipline, or conversely the very extinction of our species should we fail to rise to the occasion. One thousand men and women may be sufficient to produce a stable human population, but I for one would rather prefer not to chance it."</p> <p>He could see, amongst the anguished faces looking down at him from every direction, faint glimmers of hope and humour. Some at least could glimpse the edges of the jokes he'd sanded down to an almost homeopathic vestige. Others could see that their leader was unafraid, unbroken, and as effortlessly loquacious as ever, and draw strength from his apparently unflagging supply.</p> <p>"I am not at liberty to disclose the results of our initial investigations, nor will I likely be informing you when those investigations conclude. You may never know precisely what placed us in this predicament. What you will know, as you have known it before, is the warm embrace of our wayward friends, family and neighbours. For I pledge to you now that should you carry out your duties, as ordered, as you would have done without question had nothing changed between this day and the last, that the <em>status quo</em> as you knew it will assert itself once more. We shall be reunited, every and all, by our own sweat and toil within the confines of this, our home."</p> <p>"To restore the light, my friends, we must for a time reside in the dark. Hold fast to each other, and trust in yourselves, as I have always trusted in you."</p> <p>"Dismissed."</p> <p>Pensak was still serving in the Director's honour guard during the speech, so he stayed by the stage as the crowd dispersed back to the mustering points. Ibanez waited until the room was mostly clear, just a few of the Chairs and Chiefs holding back to speak with McInnis about whatever they had to report, then rose to the back bleachers and motioned the lanky agent to join her. With the extra elevation in her favour, he noticed quickly and complied with due speed.</p> <p>"Got something to ask," she began as he headed up the steps between them. He stopped climbing, and they stood nearly at eye level. She made a mental note to talk in here more often.</p> <p>"So ask." Even in the midst of potentially the greatest tragedy ever to befall their shared species, Pensak was still insolently flippant.</p> <p>"My deputy was visiting his wife when the curtain came down." Howard Yancy had been the first person not in their little group she'd sought out in both of the previous timelines, and she had named the little ache beneath her ribcage on the left side after him and his disappearance. "I therefore have no deputy. You don't have seniority, but you have got the chops. Want the job?"</p> <p>For the first time since she'd collected him from subsidized housing in Grand Bend, in an apartment with no air conditioning and only four blades on its five-bladed ceiling fan, she saw what it looked like when he smiled. Not smirked, or grinned, or faked the real thing, but the real thing itself. He was genuinely pleased by the offer. "Damn right I do."</p> <p>"Good. We're going to my office, and we're going to talk about what martial law looks like."</p> <p>The smile turned nasty. "Now you're speaking my language."</p> <p>"We're going to talk about what it looks like, because we need to make sure it doesn't look like that <em>here.</em> These people are going to be freaked the fuck out for the forseeable future. They probably need to be, if we're going to get out of this. But I don't want to have to shoot anybody doesn't need shooting, and that means managing expectations. You get me?"</p> <p>He inclined his head.</p> <p>She matched the incline. "Roger. I need to know that you <em>get</em> me."</p> <p>"Sure. I get you. Gunpowder's a finite commodity, now."</p> <p>Lillian took a moment to dodge into her office and confirm that it was, in every way that mattered, still her office, then headed back to the Director's Complex to resume her interrogations.</p> <p><em>Intarrowgations.</em></p> <p>She hadn't anticipated it, but taking a detour and taking the time to snicker into her labcoat at her own terrible joke produced a nevertheless unsurprising outcome: Daniil Sokolsky was standing at the door to McInnis' quarters when she arrived. That he was flanked by Nhung Ngo qualified merely as a detail.</p> <p>"What's up?" she drawled, as if she didn't know.</p> <p>"Do you know what I do," Sokolsky asked her, "when I'm listening to a boring speech in the auditorium?"</p> <p>"Masturbate in your seat?"</p> <p>Ngo made a face that was twice her age.</p> <p>"I do a headcount. I see who else is there. I keep track of how many people work in every Section, and I try to pick each one of them out. I don't usually remember the names, since of course I'm not as gifted as the immortal Lillian Lillihammer—"</p> <p>"I'm not immortal, see?" She pulled the white hair down in front of her face again, to demonstrate. "And I don't memorize people's names. Why would I do that? That's their job."</p> <p>"—but I'm pretty good with faces, and I'm <em>very</em> good with pattern recognition, and I'm just plain <em>fantastic</em> with facial pattern recognition, and I guess where I'm going with this is: where's the missing engineer, Lillian, and where are those twin blonde doctors, and why have you got them locked up in there?"</p> <p>She sighed. "Nhung, have you been with him since he left the auditorium?"</p> <p>The psychologist nodded. "Why?"</p> <p>Lillian jerked a thumb at her. "She act weird?"</p> <p>Sokolsky shook his head.</p> <p>"Okay." She smiled humourlessly at Ngo. "You're clean, then. He'd notice."</p> <p>"Notice what?"</p> <p>"If you'd been possessed. And he can't be, so."</p> <p>"I can't?" Sokolsky's expression was mild as milk.</p> <p>"Nope."</p> <p>"How do you know that?"</p> <p>"Figure it out yourself, if you're so smart. Alright. You grabbed Nhung and you came here, which means you not only know we've got them stashed inside, but you know I'm going in for a chat, and you want in on it. Yeah?"</p> <p>"Yeah. I brought her so we don't accidentally torture them."</p> <p>"Good thinking."</p> <p>Ngo blinked. "Beg pardon?"</p> <p>"We're probably really good at interrogations." Lillian shifted focus from Sokolsky to Ngo, partially because she was addressing the latter, mostly because the former was clearly mouthing <em>intarrowgations.</em> Oh, she did rather like him. "I mean, scary good. Both of us at once, there's a chance we discover some new form of extreme rendition the GOC needs to ban next year."</p> <p>"If there <em>is</em> a next year," Sokolsky smirked. "Or a GOC."</p> <p>"He's already figuring it out. Good for him. What a champ." Lillian patted Ngo on the shoulder. "You're here to make sure we actually learn something from these chicks, instead of just driving them nuts."</p> <p>"So you're fine with the company?" Sokolsky asked, one eyebrow raised.</p> <p>"More fine than I'd be with not knowing where you are, and what you're doing there."</p> <p>They'd had a long-standing agreement, the Survivors, on who could always be trusted to know the nature of their temporary reality. Prominent in that list were members of personnel who could be counted on to figure it out themselves eventually; this included Ngo for her psychoanalysis, Sokolsky for his overanalysis. Since it was likely to become germane, Lillian quickly briefed the two of them before the interrogation started.</p> <p>Sokolsky didn't seem surprised, but he did seem excited, which was probably a bad thing.</p> <p>Ngo, however, visibly realized something the moment the explanation was out, and laughed. "That," she said, "explains why I had a dream last night about a thing that never happened."</p> <p>It did not, in fact, explain that, and Lillian would be pondering the meaning of the dreams for a good long while yet.</p> <p>Veiksaar shook her head. "I really don't get it."</p> <p>"Neither do I." Du tore off the manual printout, and compared it to what was on his screen. "This doesn't make any sense."</p> <p>"What doesn't?" Nascimbeni was sitting at one of the monitoring consoles in the DUAL Core control room, watching the two of them work. He was a hardware man, and he still thought of 'software' as his television producer brother-in-law's industry term for re-runs.</p> <p>"I don't remember doing any of this." Du waved the printout at him. "But the raws and the programs match. In addition to the baseline checks, I've been running unreported sims. Lots of unreported sims."</p> <p>"Lots of lots of unreported sims." Veiksaar closed the panel she'd been peering into, and shut off her penlight. "I'd say you went through three component generations doing this." She walked to a supply cupboard along the back wall, and pulled it open. "Mm. Four. I guess you wiped the sockets between replacements at least once."</p> <p>This, Nascimbeni more or less understood. "He wore out the moving parts? They're rated for what, a year's workload each?"</p> <p>"A year's <em>hard</em> workload," Du corrected. "And as far as I remember, we weren't working it that hard. One big sim takes a lot less load than a lot of smaller ones, because of code duplication. The logs say the Core has been running non-stop since last month. I'm amazed nobody came to check on the power draw."</p> <p>Veiksaar knelt beneath one of the control consoles, turned her light on again, and stuck it in her mouth. "Ouat's dah tranthfer meeder thay, Dini?"</p> <p>Du leaned around the Core's apex to check a dial just above his eye level. "Ten megawatts."</p> <p>"At westh?!"</p> <p>"At rest."</p> <p>"Ouat dah thuck."</p> <p>"I concur. Anything interesting down there?"</p> <p>"Durn it oth."</p> <p>"You're sure?"</p> <p>"Durn it oth right now." She was rolling back out, the light in her hand again. She switched it off. "The wires are <em>bleeding.</em>"</p> <p>Du sat down at the master console and abused the keyboard rapid-fire. The ambient hum in the room died down to the level of the circulating fans, and beneath them, the rotating central processing unit slowed its relentless churn. "It's off."</p> <p>"What are the wires bleeding?" Nascimbeni stood up. "Were you looking at the fluidics, or the coolant flow, or—"</p> <p>"The power lines, Noè. They were bleeding <em>actual blood.</em>"</p> <p>"He must have tied it into the orphic outflow." Du whistled. "Son of a bitch, that worked? That <em>worked.</em> I guess we owe him one for testing it out."</p> <p>Nascimbeni knew that Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-D's orphic outflow conduits produced an electric charge due to friction between the oriykalkos lamination and the ectoplasm within. But that was bled off in paraspectral conduits, because unlike normal power sources, orphic outflow had a tendency to haunt whatever it was plugged into. "Are you telling me Wirth was running extra simulations on <em>ghost juice?</em>"</p> <p>Du nodded. "Lillian did say he was a ghost. So I guess that's apropos."</p> <p>"That's got to be it, then." Nascimbeni pulled off his baseball cap and scratched at his sweaty scalp; whatever was meant to be keeping the Core cool hadn't been doing its job. He wondered if the fans had been transformed into bat wings, or were sporting human teeth now. "That's what he did. He used the Core to imprint a new reality over the old one."</p> <p>Both of them snorted at once. "What makes you think it can do that?" Du snapped.</p> <p>"That's ridiculous," Veiksaar agreed. "You can run more sims with more power, but the CPU would bottleneck you well before you reached ontokinetic potentiality. And it's still just a <em>computer.</em>"</p> <p>"The best computer ever made," Du corrected her with narrowed eyes, "but yes, I mostly agree."</p> <p>Nascimbeni had been remembering the anomalously duplicated DUAL Core, from what Lillian had started calling the "QUAD Core Incident," back in baseline reality. The orphic connection had been key there, too. Obviously the two situations weren't perfect analogues, and certainly he was playing inside pool. But that was easy enough to brush past, because "I'm not a computer guy. So sue me. Though if the Core didn't remake reality, what the hell was he doing with it?"</p> <p>Du shrugged. "Practice?"</p> <p>"So, a semigod then."</p> <p>Ibanez stared at her. So did Michael Nass. The office of the Chair of T&T was full of effigies and haloed portraits gazing down on them beneficently, or else glaring in condemnation of whatever impure thoughts might presently rule their minds. Brenda Corbin's casual heresy would do nicely.</p> <p>"Semigod," Nass repeated.</p> <p>Corbin rolled an empty tube of rolling paper between her fingers. "New one on both of you? Mike, I'm shocked."</p> <p>"I've heard of <em>demi</em>gods," said Ibanez.</p> <p>"How about hemigods?"</p> <p>"Brenda," Nass sighed. "I don't see how this is helping."</p> <p>The wiry little theologian sat forward in her chair, and tapped the butt of the empty cigarette against her forehead. "It matters how we think about these things. You know that. We need to make sure we use the right words, build the right frameworks. The things we describe might actually be <em>responsive</em> to those descriptions. You've read the ASC's paper."</p> <p>"Yes, but that relates to indigenous myth figures. We have no reason to imagine it's relevant here."</p> <p>Ibanez raised a hand to interrupt what was starting to sound like an old argument resumed after an interval, rather than starting for the first time in her presence. "Could one of you fill me in?"</p> <p>Nass's eyes rolled back a little as he tried to recall the details. "He postulated that indigenous cultures might still, even after colonialism, be coherent enough in comparison to colonial ones to keep the connection to their deities intact. So despite reduced numbers, his people could still see their beliefs reflected in the world around them. They know what they're looking at, so they can actually <em>see</em> it." He met her eyes again, then Corbin's. "But I think his description of European systems is more pertinent. Something like 'Belief can make a god'."</p> <p>"Humankind," Corbin murmured. "'One human can make a difference. Humankind can make a god'."</p> <p>"Sure. That. So if we're dealing with the more common type of deity here — assuming it's a deity at all — we might literally be able to wish it out of existence, rather than trying to make our descriptions align with what it already is."</p> <p>"Which is a semigod, apparently," said Ibanez. "Whatever that means."</p> <p>"I just made it up," Brenda admitted. She winked. "But it seems accurate to your description. Something big got blown up in that breach all those years ago, and bits of it stuck to anyone unlucky enough to be inside. Got into them. Partially deified them. Semigods."</p> <p>"Sure." Ibanez shrugged. "What's a hemigod?"</p> <p>"An equal half-god. Split right down the middle. Demi- carries an implication of being less-than."</p> <p>"If Wirth is a semigod, where do you think the other six parts ended up?"</p> <p>"Out in the ether?" Corbin squashed her lips flat and widened her eyes in a froglike gesture of not knowing. "Maybe nowhere. The point is, he's not the real deal. He's a microdeity. That's a lot more manageable. If we can suss out his nature more precisely, we should be able to develop a response that works better than telekill and prayer."</p> <p>"Don't discount prayer," Nass smiled. "Gods need it badly, don't you know."</p> <p>"We have that in common, right now," Ibanez reminded them.</p> <p>Apropos of nothing, Corbin winked at her again.</p> <p>Stacey Laiken was sitting on a vinyl couch, surrounded by binders and tapping on a laptop computer. She often liked to do her paperwork in the common area, because she was a gregarious creature at heart. Udo took a seat nearby, at a right angle, and spent a few seconds rearranging her labcoat, hood, and mass of tangled curls.</p> <p>"So much for baseline." Laiken set aside her laptop. "What a mess."</p> <p>"No kidding." Udo yawned. "But at least we're doing something about it. Allan— <em>the Director</em> wants me to run a few tests."</p> <p>Laiken raised one yellow eyebrow. "No kidding? The ouija boards weren't enough for him, huh. What sort of tests?'</p> <p>Udo unclipped her reagents pouch and hefted it where Laiken could see. "Gonna take a tour, make sure there's nothing strange in the air. You up to supervising?"</p> <p>The other woman beamed at her. "Anything for a fellow wyrd sister."</p> <p>Udo laughed. She reached back to bundle her hair up into a ponytail — Harry called it a mare-tail, since most ponytails weren't three feet long — and then pulled the hood up over her head. "Don't let anybody burn me while I'm out."</p> <p>"Cross my heart." To Udo's surprise, Laiken reached out and took her left hand. Her skin was very soft.</p> <p>Udo undid the drawstring, reached into the pouch, and drew herself out grain by grain. Before long she was a constellation of silicon, soaring through conduits of steel and polymer, but somehow she never quite lost track of the sensation of Laiken's fingertips brushing against her palm.</p> <p>McInnis parcelled out access codes to the other Survivors, and a select few of his administrative staff, for clearance to the topside elevator. "I don't want anyone going up there without one of us present," he'd told Harry. "We know things they don't. We might spot something they won't. And they might see things we don't want becoming general knowledge."</p> <p>Del had naturally responded: "If they see something they shouldn't, can I push them off?"</p> <p>McInnis hadn't responded, and she'd never clarified whether she was joking.</p> <p>Harry was a connoisseur of atmospheric horror. He didn't care for jump scares, he found most gore appalling, but he enjoyed a palpable sense of dread from time to time. That was part of the attraction of marrying archive-diving with paranormal research. Detective work, with the added bonus of a chill down your spine. For that reason he lasted until just after midnight of the second day before abusing his access to the edge of eternity. Bremmel and Nascimbeni had supervised the erection of a gantry where the barracks block had been, rated for the weight of twenty persons and surrounding the elevator exit on all four sides, extending out two metres over the black, and since he couldn't sleep anyway he figured he might as well enjoy a few cheap thrills alone.</p> <p>When the doors opened, however, he saw that wasn't in the cards.</p> <p>Karen Elstrom was leaning on the gleaming steel rail, staring out into nothing. She didn't turn to look as he approached, didn't react as the doors slid shut again behind him. Harry took a deep breath; he wasn't sure what he'd expected, the recycled taste of Site-43's artificial supply or the cool autumn breeze that would have prevailed here back in baseline, but the warm and tasteless air of utter nowhere wasn't it.</p> <p>He looked up, but only for a moment. It was disorienting. He looked down, through the tight lattice grating, at the industrial supports riveted into the sturdy elevator shaft, and shivered. There was only one safe direction, for a given definition, and he finished his approach to it.</p> <p>Karen did glance at him as he took a station beside her at the rail. Together they looked at nothing, said nothing, did nothing else for several minutes, and then she pulled a package of cigarettes out of her pants pocket, and stared at it instead.</p> <p>He felt compelled to lecture her. To discourage the activity she already knew she shouldn't engage in. It was no fun, but it was the right thing to do. A moral obligation. Sometimes peer pressure was—</p> <p>She flipped the packet over the edge. The cellphane wrapper caught on the tip of her finger and tore as the cardboard plunged down, and when it too slipped away it left a spiralling streamer which caught the worklights mounted to the gantry and was still visible for quite some time. Harry leaned over the edge, and saw a thing no living person had ever seen before yesterday: the upper membrane of Site-43's first sublevel, one kilometre down. It was festooned with lights, and some of them were moving. Like a city in the distance, translated from horizontal to vertical.</p> <p><em>The Outer Limits,</em> he thought, and he almost chuckled.</p> <p>There was a faint <em>whoosh</em> of air from the elevator vents behind them, and they both looked up as a cloud of sparkling particles rose up into the emptiness above them, pinprick lights in a cloudless night sky. When he looked back down, she was looking up at him. She took off her glasses, and he watched the false stars dancing in her eyes.</p> <p>She usually held her head high, and tilted back, so she could look down her nose at people, but she wasn't doing that now. Each held the other's gaze for a long, long moment — he hadn't seen her eyes so wide and warm in years — and then they turned back to the void together. She put her glasses back on.</p> <p>Some time later, he couldn't be sure how long, she shifted her stance and pressed her thigh against his, using his weight as support. He waited for a while, not looking, in case it was a fluke. When she didn't pull away again, he tentatively reached around her waist and rested his hand against her hip.</p> <p>It was certainly better than nothing.</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-yes {$class}"> <div class="first earthworm__previous" data-title="Nothing Happens"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/43-nothing-happens">Nothing Happens</a></p> </div> <div class="hub earthworm__hub" data-title="The Breach Goes On: Deadlined"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/deadlined-hub">The Breach Goes On: Deadlined</a></p> </div> <div class="last earthworm__next" data-title="Nothing to Worry About"> <p><a href="https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/45-nothing-to-worry-about">Nothing to Worry About</a></p> </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="/44-next-to-nothing">Next to Nothing</a>" by HarryBlank, from the <a href="https://scpwiki.com">SCP Wiki</a>. Source: <a href="https://scpwiki.com/44-next-to-nothing">https://scpwiki.com/44-next-to-nothing</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;"> <p>This chapter contains the full text of Edgar W. McInnis, "Our Dug-Out," 1918, in the public domain. The fictional volume "Lines in a Muddle" also takes its name from this poem.</p> <p>Illustrations in this series use reference material created with DAZ studio. Images of the following characters utilized the following photographic references as well:</p> <p>Brenda Corbin: "Screen Shot 2022-07-09 at 19.20.22" by Tracy Rolling, released CC BY-SA 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/tracy_the_astonishing/52222024374">https://www.flickr.com/photos/tracy_the_astonishing/52222024374</a></p> <p>Karen Elstrom: "Natalya" by Anastasia Pavlenko, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/zamerzla/50841210177">https://www.flickr.com/photos/zamerzla/50841210177</a></p> <p>Allan McInnis: "Harsh" by Jeremy Jenum, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/10382904023">https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/10382904023</a></p> <p>Noè Nascimbeni: "abdul" by Davidlohr Bueso, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/54829270@N00/5733944992">https://www.flickr.com/photos/54829270@N00/5733944992</a></p> <p>Nhung Ngo: Nhi Dang, "Huyen," released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/">https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/</a> and Rod Waddington, "Hmong Woman," released CC BY-SA 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060">https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060</a></p> <p>Imogen and Madchen Tarrow are based on "Teacher Leader Conference 2 August 2012" courtesy US Department of Education, released CC BY 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/48445211@N06/7733033618">https://www.flickr.com/photos/48445211@N06/7733033618</a></p> <p>Eileen Veiksaar: "Claudia's Revenge" and "side" by rochelle hartman, both released CC BY 2.0:<br/> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/tinfoilraccoon/475773689">https://www.flickr.com/photos/tinfoilraccoon/475773689</a><br/> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/tinfoilraccoon/4626047470">https://www.flickr.com/photos/tinfoilraccoon/4626047470</a></p> <p>William Wettle: "Scruffy self-portrait" by Nic McPhee, released CC BY-SA 2.0: <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260">https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260</a></p> <blockquote> <p><strong>Filename:</strong> Everything!<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=1735469589" 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</p> </blockquote> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div> </div></body></html>	[[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:blankstyle">:scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle</a> fade=a]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:text-style">:scp-wiki:component:text-style</a>]] [[module CSS]] @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Caveat:wght@700&family=Lobster&display=swap'); [[/module]] [[module CSS]] .muddle { padding: 4px 16px 4px 16px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.3); width: 85%; margin: auto; margin-bottom: 28px; margin-top: 28px; background: #E9FBDF; 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[[image http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/]] [[[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>]] [[=]] + Next to Nothing @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ + ##990011\|2011## ++ 9 September [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]Timeline 5243-C[[/span]] [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][http://www.scpwiki.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- He'd been expecting something to happen, of course, or to discover that something had already happened which everyone but he and the other Survivors thought was normal, or had long since come to terms with. He had not expected //this,// and when confronted with it, was not sure precisely how to react. It didn't matter, however, because the other two people in the elevator reacted so strongly that they couldn't have noticed how taken aback he was. Pensak made an inarticulate shout of surprise, and O stepped away from the sudden precipice so hard that she collided with the back of the elevator, and yelped. Both of them drew their weapons, as they were trained to do when confronted with the unknown, and there was something almost touchingly naïve about that. About drawing down on a featureless void. The world beyond the elevator doors simply //was not.// McInnis turned to O. "Your radio, please?" The woman blinked slowly at him, then picked the mic off her lapel and put her thumb over the transmit button. "Who? Who should I call? And what..." He shook his head. "We're not calling anyone. Please detach your radio, and hand it to me. Just yours," he added as her eyes widened in fear. "I need something with a cable attached, you understand. That's all." Realization dawned, and she nodded. In her moment of blind terror, she'd probably thought he meant to garrote her to keep the secret silent. A swift, efficient motion, and the deactivated device was in his hand. He played out the curly cable a little, spun it up, and spooled the radio out into the dark a ways. It passed into the space which did not appear to be a space at all, with no apparent ill effects. The lights from the elevator illuminated nothing but the interior and the plastic of the radio and cord, the darkness intruded no farther into the car than its edge, existence and nonexistence stood side by side in perfect harmony. He realized suddenly that if this had not been the case, if the relationship had been more akin to matter and antimatter... ...that their respiration, and the particulates from the elevator's air cycling, and their dead skin cells whisked out by the opening doors would already have annihilated everything that still remained. No, his instincts to test the waters had been correct. He handed O's radio back to her, then turned to include Pensak in their little council. The wiry agent looked like a deer about to bolt. "Do either of you have any spare change?" Pensak grunted. "Never, actually." O shook her head, staring out into the black, mouth in the shape of her surname. McInnis fished in his pockets, finding nothing there but a sparse scatter of lint. Apparently he'd dressed in a hurry this morning. He gathered up as much as he could, perversely pleased that only in this doomed alternate timeline would anyone know he had ever carried lint in his pockets, and tossed it out into the ether. It rained softly down, down, down, past the edge of the elevator floor and out of sight. "At least there's gravity," O breathed. Then added: "Somehow." He resisted the urge to lean out, and instead pressed the button which closed the doors. For whatever reason, knowing that nothing was out there made it more claustrophobic inside. He turned to them again. "You are not to leave my side until I dismiss you. You will not discuss what we just saw with anyone. I will inform the senior staff, and we will determine what's going on, and what to do about it. I may need your help, and I will absolutely require your cooperation. Are we understood?" O nodded immediately. Pensak seemed to wait a fraction of a second, until he saw that she was nodding, and followed suit. No worse than he'd expected. "Good. Agent Pensak, could you please radio the Chief of Identity and Technocryptography for me? Her private channel." Pensak thumbed his mic without removing it from his lapel. He kept eye contact with McInnis as he spoke. "PTF Omega-43 to I&T Actual." Pensak was using the callsign of the Director's personal escort, only a provisionary taskforce because the Director only needed an escort when he left the Site. Or rather, that was how it usually went; right now he required a security detail to protect their little secret, from his own people. It was good that he didn't have time to consider the morality of that problem. "Veiksaar," came the response from Pensak's radio. McInnis took a deep breath. "Lockdown, Chief." A pause. Veiksaar didn't question the order. She never did. "Safe emergency stop complete. System was riderless, sir." She was referring to the Inter-Sectional Subway System, all trains now securely e-braked in their tunnels. "Very good." "All exits sealed, aaaand extra-facility communications fully dark. We're secure." "Excellent." Nothing much surprised Veiksaar anymore. "The topside elevator will be stopping at the third sublevel in a few moments. When the doors have closed and the internal sensors show no-one remains inside, I require the car locked with Level 5 clearance. Understood?" "Good to go, and monitoring." "Thank you." McInnis nodded at Pensak. "Chief Ibanez now, please." The agent called it in. "S&C Actual," Ibanez replied immediately. Probably she'd been listening in. Furthermore, McInnis knew her tones well enough by now to say that there was already something on her mind. Well, that was fine. They'd be reconvening with a vengeance soon. Pensak thumbed the mic again so the Director could respond, which he did. "Chief. All access to the topside elevator, helipad, subway and AAF-A are now locked down. Please station guards at all egress points; no-one is to leave Site-43 until further notice. Once this is assured, meet me at the foyer." "Roger." "I'm here," Pensak replied, button still down. There was no response. He smiled wryly as he released his grip. "Anyone else you want me to call, sir?" "Chief Van Rompay." O was practically hyperventilating by now. Pensak's chest was heaving. His voice nearly broke as he made the call. "PTF Omega-43 to P&S Actual." The Chief of Pursuit and Suppression growled over the speaker: "If this is the Director's escort, I'm already in contact with Ops." "Pleased to hear it. I assume you're looking out a window, Chief?" "For what little good it's doing me, yeah." McInnis closed his eyes. O began to shake. Pensak looked like he wanted to break something. The problem wasn't restricted to Camp Ipperwash, then; Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-A, where the Mobile Task Forces mustered aboveground, was over a kilometre away. "I presume you and yours are now working to reinforce the lockdown." "Of course." "Continue to do so until I order otherwise, and make no effort to investigate this new phenomenon. No personnel are to exit AAF-A by any means. Am I clear?" "Crystal." "Outstanding." And the old soldier clicked off his mic. Pensak raised an eyebrow, and McInnis shook his head. No, there was no-one left to inform. Not on the emergency channels. "We'll be meeting Chief Ibanez downstairs, then heading to Operations Control. Thank you in advance for your professionalism. We'll sort this out as soon as possible." O looked pensive, which was hardly a surprise. "Do you think it's something OSAT is doing? Some sort of screen, or... I don't know. A pocket dimensional prison...? Pensak scoffed. "More likely they tried something stupid that blew them up and blew //us// out into space." "Speculation won't get us anywhere," McInnis reminded them gently. "Programmatic and precise response to anomalous phenomena is what we do here. It just doesn't often strike so close to home." "Not for almost ten years," O agreed. He found himself envying her. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Ibanez pulled him aside when they reached the foyer, and told him what she'd seen. He had nodded gravely at her confirmation that the timeline had definitely splintered; it was, technically, not something he'd yet seen proof of. He kept what he //had// seen private, though he ordered her to discreetly locate the others and bring them to his quarters. "Your quarters?" "My quarters." She shrugged, and headed off. He walked the short distance back to Admin and Oversight, juggling options in his head the whole way. By the time he was back in Operations Control, he knew what he had to do. "Nim," he said, and the All-Sections Chief glanced up from the console he was leaning over. "You've been informed?" The other man nodded. If he was curious, he kept it off his face. "Chief Van Rompay got in touch immediately, and Chiefs Ibanez and Veiksaar called your orders in after executing them, per protocol. None of it's left this room. Am I qualified to know what's wrong with our systems, or what happened topside with Couch?" "You are. I'll be heading to the Director's Complex, ah, directly. I'd appreciate it if you'd join me." He scanned the room for the flash of blonde that was Elstrom's stitch-knit topknot, and found her peering at him openly in precisely the manner the ASC had not. "Dr. Elstrom, in Chief Mitchum's absence I would appreciate your taking over here until we return. We are experiencing an emergent situation, but if we keep it under wraps, I believe it can be resolved without serious difficulty. Could you please issue a public address attributing the lockdown to a credible threat? Chief Ibanez will be able to suggest a likely culprit on her secure channel." Elstrom nodded, blue eyes half-lidded. More resigned than intrigued. "Very well. There will be a general debriefing soon. In the meantime, please maintain radio silence and ensure all personnel remain within the facility." No-one questioned him, at least not openly. Pensak and Elstrom both looked like they wanted to. //You'll know when I know,// he thought as the four of them headed back out into the hall. //Probably.// [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] When they reached the Director's Complex, most of Sampi-5243 was already there. He saw Wettle's blue labcoat disappearing into the reception room, heard Harry and Udo conversing in clipped tones within, saw Ibanez at the end of the hall, no doubt scoping for snoopers. Lillian was standing in front of the open door, one hand on Nascimbeni's chest. "It's not that I don't trust you," she said, "it's that none of us trust you." "Get real," he snarled. "Whatever's going on, it affects all of us." "Yeah," Ibanez agreed as she approached the door, one hand on her holstered service weapon. "Whatever you caused, it affects all of us. We'll come back out to thank you for it once we know the details." McInnis placed a hand on Nascimbeni's shoulder, and faced the two stone-faced women with a smile. "You may take my word for this," he said. "We are all in this one together. Please, everyone, assemble inside." Ibanez looked like she wanted to argue the point, but McInnis began steering Nascimbeni through the door, and she bedgrudgingly moved aside. She was the last one to enter, looking at O and Pensak with particularly palpable uncertainty. Almost nobody outside of the senior staff ever got through even this first layer of the Director's private security. [!-- [[=image Lillihammer_Nascimbeni_McInnis_Sorry.jpg]] --] Once inside, he led them past the comfortable chairs and his secretary's desk through to the private meeting room which represented the limin between his professional and private retreats. This was easily a two-layer problem, at the very least. He gestured to the motley group to take seats where they could find them; there were a number of couches, recliners, and tables with chairs scattered about in a way which suggested a very expensively casual decorating philosophy. The ASC immediately located his favourite chair, and the others stumbled into a random arrangement which would serve well enough for what had to be conveyed. "Wow," said Harry. "Can't believe we were meeting in a //dorm room// before." "Who's 'we'?" Pensak snapped. McInnis raised a hand. "Get settled, everyone, and I will provide clarity. We need to reach our conclusions swiftly and efficiently. We face an existential threat, or perhaps an existential //failure,// and I am going to need to make a statement on its nature within the next few hours." That shut all of them up. Even Wettle appeared to be paying attention, though that could have just been an accident of the direction his chair was facing in. "The topside elevator," McInnis told them, "presently opens on an open void. Facility AAF-A is enshrouded in the same. It is my belief that Site-43 now represents the full extent of baseline reality. Site-43 and baseline reality, I reiterate, are at present coterminous." There was a moment of silence, appropriately, before Nascimbeni cried out: "What?!" "Everything's gone," said Pensak. He sounded calmer than his words would have suggested he should be. "Completely gone." "Gone gone," O clarified, in intent if not execution. "How?" Harry and Nascimbeni blurted simultaneously. Udo looked shell-shocked, and Lillian's eyes had narrowed to points. Wettle was looking back and forth between them all, perhaps judging whether or not he should panic. Ibanez had a look on her face that McInnis recognized from Pensak's, back in the elevator. The All-Sections Chief, by contrast, merely seemed momentarily crestfallen. It flashed across his features too swiftly for anyone else to notice, consumed as they were with their own astonished disbelief, and in the blink of an eye it was gone. "I don't know," McInnis admitted. "I don't even know if that's what's actually going on. But we're going to need to conduct a thorough search of the facility to determine where the boundaries lie between us and the exterior void, and if nothing beside remains," a strange look flashed over Harry's face at the reference, "then this will need to be swiftly followed by a complete audit and inventory." "I thought you said we could fix this quickly and... whatever." Pensak's hands were both balled in anger. "I did say that," McInnis agreed. "And given the scale of the issue, assuming I've identified it correctly, I think my timeline is entirely reasonable. We should be able to revert whatever damage has been done in the scope of a single year." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Allan dismissed them to prepare for a Chairs and Chiefs (and Guests, Harry added mentally) meeting in the main boardroom. Del left first, with her agents in tow, and the rest of them quickly paired off. Lillian resumed her abuse of Nascimbeni as though they hadn't just been told that the entire topside world had vanished in the interim, the Director and his deputy remained behind -- presumably so Allan could explain what would actually happen next September, and why he was so confident it would correct the present problem -- and Wettle wandered off with his shell shock for company. That left Udo with Harry, leaving Harry with the need to be alone. If topside was gone, Grand Bend was gone. If Grand Bend was gone-- Delicate hands grasped his shoulders, and spun him around as he walked. He looked down into Udo's simmering eyes, and then she reached up and pulled a hair out of his beard. "Ow!" he shouted. He'd never known people actually shouted things like "Ow!" before that moment. "What the fuck?!" She lifted her prize up to his eye level. The hair was bright grey, translucent, like a snippet of fibre optic wire. "You've got grey hairs." He shoved roughly off, eyes watering. "Thanks for noticing. That's not your problem anymore." Her jaw pushed forward a few centimetres, and she advanced again. "You didn't have grey hairs on your face back in baseline." "And Noè didn't have so many," he pointed. The chief tech's slate beard, wagging as he gave far worse than he got in his argument with the raging memeticist, was attenuating to charcoal. "And Lillian..." He frowned. Lillian's jaw snapped shut, and she looked away from her prey with narrowed eyes. "What about me?" He walked over, reached up, and gently brushed a single streak of white hair so that it fell in front of her face. Her eyes crossed as she stared at it, transfixed. "We're older here," said Udo. "What kind of sense does that make?" "Who knows." Harry walked past, letting the long-gone cats send him off in a random direction. "But don't touch my face again." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] + Chairs and Chiefs Debriefing ++ 9 September 2011 [[/=]] ---- Presiding: McInnis, Director Allan J. (Site-43) Present, Voting: All-Sections Chief Blank, Dr. Harold R. (Archives and Revision, Chair) Bremmel, Dr. Trevor (Arms and Equipment, Chief) Du, Dr. Xinyi (Quantum Supermechanics, Chair) Ibanez, Delfina M. (Security and Containment, Chief) Elstrom, Dr. Karen T. (Administration and Oversight, Acting Chief) Laiken, Dr. Stacey (Applied Occultism, Chief) LeClair, Dr. Emilié (Health and Pathology, Chair) Lillihammer, Dr. Lillian S. (Memetics and Countermemetics, Acting Chair) Mataxas, Dr. Anastasios (Research and Experimentation, Chair) Nascimbeni, Noè (Janitorial and Maintenance, Chief) Nass, Dr. Michael D. (Theology and Teleology, Chair) Ngo, Dr. Nhung T. (Psychology and Parapsychology, Deputy Chair) Styles, Gennady (Hiring and Regulation, Chief) Veiksaar, Dr. Eileen K. (Information and Technocryptography, Chief) Telepresent, Voting: Van Rompay, Gedeon (Pursuit and Suppression, Chief) Present, Non-Voting: O, Ji (Security and Containment, Agent) Okorie, Dr. Udo A. (Applied Occultism, Researcher) Pensak, Roger (Security and Containment, Agent) Wettle, Dr. William W. (Research and Experimentation, Deputy Chair in Replication Studies) [[/div]] It wasn't the perfect meeting makeup, but it was close. He would have liked to have included Ilse Reynders, but they still didn't have the systems in place to give her meaningful telepresence, and at any rate she wasn't the Chair or Chief of anything. Neither, of course, were several of the members of his Provisional Taskforce, and McInnis couldn't use said membership as an excuse for inviting them, since in this reality the task had never been set, and the force never assembled. He was forced instead to employ Directorial prerogative to justify the inclusions, and that set several of his executives on edge before he even had the chance to make an opening statement. As before, however, the statement he had to make functioned somewhat as a reset button. Nothing which had happened before seemed to matter as the import of his words settled over the crowded boardroom. Du was the first to speak. "It wasn't me." Speaking caused him apparent pain, and he reached up to massage his temples. LeClair put a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Dr. Du has been cleared, medically, memetically, and psychologically." Ngo and Lillihammer both nodded, the latter with the faintest of smirks. "He is himself." "Back up," said Bremmel. It was nearly a shout. "You're saying you think someone //erased// the world outside the Site?" His glassy eyes were uncharacteristically wide. "Everything? Everything outside is gone?" "That remains to be seen," McInnis murmured. "Part of our response will need to be--" "And you think he had something to do with it?" Bremmel stood up, pointing at Du with one stubby, shaking finger. "Was it that god-damn Frankenputer, Du? Is that what caused this?!" Styles tried to ease the portly engineer back into his seat, but he threw the taller man off with a violent shrug. He just stood there, shaking, eyes glassing over further with tears. Nascimbeni was staring at him, mouth agape with horror. Harry was staring at the table. Wettle was staring at the ceiling, and for a change, this seemed to mean something. "It... might have been," Du allowed. "I don't see how, but it might have been. There was someone... there was something in my head. Something that wasn't me." He bit his lip, suppressing an inappropriate quirk; he was an avid fan of Pink Floyd, and the irony must have just hit him. "He was possessed," Lillian explained. "By the ghost of Reuben Wirth." There was a sudden burst of static from the table speaker, and half the room jumped in their seats. "Sorry," said Van Rompay. "Hectic in here. Bumped my mic." "Ghost, you say?" Anastasios Mataxas was the Site's foremost expert on ghosts, had spent years begging and cajoling his peers into funding a ghost-hunting Section for the Site without success. "The ghost of Reuben Wirth. I wasn't aware we'd declared him dead." "Dr. Bremmel," the ASC said quietly. "Please, sit down." Bremmel sat down so hard that his chair made a loud exhalation of protest. Ibanez tossed a report on the table. "Officially," she said, "Wirth is only missing." McInnis admired her for having had the presence of mind to check the database; she could only have known about the altercation at the DUAL Core for a few minutes before the meeting had begun. "As part of an ongoing investigation I can't talk about right now, we have reason to think he remains at large. And he's very, //very// dangerous. There's a risk of psychic possession throughout the Site right now." "Which is why Chief Nascimbeni's techs are already installing telekill dampeners, repurposed from the server hall sheath, and we've moved all personnel to muster stations near them." Ngo scratched her cheek with the clip of her clipboard. "But they can't stay there long," LeClair added. "We still don't fully understand the health risks of that stuff." "There was a paper just last month, Em," Mataxas reminded her. She nodded, uncertainly. The ASC slid neatly back into the conversation. "At any rate, it's a necessary precaution right now. Having voiced concerns about certain temporal discrepancies occurring throughout the facility, Dr. Du has been performing tests with the DUAL Core. Attempting to ensure that the boundaries of reality are sitting where they ought." "What kind of discrepancies?" Lillian asked. Nobody seemed surprised that she didn't know. Lillian often failed to notice things that were happening to other people. "Wonky Hume readings around my lab," Bremmel muttered. "Inexplicable perforations in the inter-level membranes," Veiksaar continued. "And lost time," Mataxas concluded. "So either we were the subjects of alien abduction events -- all thousand-odd of us down here -- or there was something ontokinetically awkward going on. Dr. Du tasked the DUAL Core with testing a simulated baseline model of the Site's occult parameters against what actually existed on the ground, and applying spot treatments with Scranton Reality Anchors to bring us back up, or down, to code. That process was completed prior to the disappearance event, as you describe it, sir." "That's what you meant." Ibanez directed this at the All-Sections Chief. "That's what 'Welcome back to baseline' means." The ASC nodded. "That's right. You'll have to forgive me the flourish." A deadly silence descended. The Chief had worked to ameliorate it, but Ibanez had made a bad gaffe in asking that question in front of the others. By the furious look on her face, McInnis knew she knew. "We've all been worked very hard of late," he smoothly intervened. "Perhaps we're learning that specificity and precision might be substituted for poetic licence, from this point onward. For clearer communication. With respect, Nim." "Absolutely," the ASC agreed. "This has been a very efficient emergency rollout," Styles remarked. "We were prepared for something like this to happen?" As one of the few members of senior staff with only basic academic qualifications, the head of HR often resented being out of the loop in conversations like this. "We were prepared for an attack of some variety," the ASC responded. "Coordination between the Sections has been conducted phenomenally well, however, you're right. Everyone in this room has responded with excellent alacrity." It would have been considerably more difficult for McInnis to hug his giant deputy than the frail, birdlike form of Ilse Reynders, but the way the man covered for each of them so naturally made him momentarily willing to try it. He wouldn't have traded his staff for any other in the Foundation. Which was today an even luckier thing than it normally was. "What's this I hear about it being a Serpent's Hand attack?" Van Rompay demanded. "We've used the Chaos Insurgency excuse too many times," Ibanez answered. "It doesn't mean anything right now anyway. We don't know who did this, or if it was even intentional." "What's the rest of our response look like?" Elstrom asked. She had taken Mitchum's place at the table. Mitchum had been visiting relatives in Toronto; wherever those relatives were, he was probably still with them now. Several faces turned to face McInnis at once, the ones he'd expected to do so, and he gestured at the first one first. Eileen Veiksaar nodded. "I've got control of every network in the facility right now, and I'm running diagnostics. I should be able to tell you the precise extent of the Site's systems within the next few minutes." She glanced down at her tablet, and nodded again in confirmation of her own words. "When that's done, my staff--" "Please," McInnis interjected. "Keep this as confidential as possible. Don't involve anyone with overlapping skill sets. Skeleton crews only until I make my announcement." She grimaced. "And you promise that announcement will be soon?" "That's my intention," he answered by way of not precisely answering. She didn't look wholly satisfied. She had plenty of reasons not to. McInnis gestured at Stacey Laiken, who alone among the senior staff seemed totally unfazed by their apocalyptic predicament. "We'll conduct distance readings and séances," she chirped, "to determine whether other sophonts still exist beyond the bounds of the Site and subway." The fact that the subway still existed still startled McInnis. It suggested that Site-43 had been selected, lock, stock and barrel, for complete and perfect translation into this negative space... or that everything //but// Site-43 had been excised from reality with semantically surgical precision. "I will assist," Mataxas told her. It wasn't a question, and she smiled in easy acceptance. "Chief Nascimbeni?" McInnis prodded. The old tech hadn't turned to look at him, and he didn't do so now. When he spoke, his tone was grave and strained. "We'll do a structural review. Confirm stability. And when the inventories are done..." He glanced at Styles, whose realm wasn't only HR, but also supply management. Styles nodded. "...when that's done, I'll see what we need, but don't have, and try and build it with the manufactories." He glanced down at his hand, wriggling the clenched fingers to no appreciable rhythm. "And figure out where our air's coming from. Where our water will." "Dr. Du?" "I'm already writing up the experiments in my head. And if we can get the DUAL Core cleared for use--" "That's my first stop, after the diagnostics come in," Veiksaar interrupted. "--we can run some new sims, maybe get us closer to the truth a whole lot faster." "Dr. Bremmel?" "What?" Bremmel snapped. McInnis smiled at him. He intended it as a warning. By the way the man's furry brows closed together, he knew the message had been received. "Dr. Bremmel, you will coordinate with Drs. Du and Mataxas and their people as we conduct experiments into the nature of our new... neighbourhood." The older man nodded miserably. "Neighbourhood," Blank muttered. "What's that, Harry?" McInnis pressed. "How many billion people?" The brooding archivist made no effort to clarify or streamline his question, just left it lying ragged on the table for all of them to consider. Like a dead dog in the road. A dead world. Billions and billions of obliterated lives. "We don't know if that's what happened," McInnis reminded him. "And we won't, until we get to work." He straightened, and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt to indicate that the meeting was wrapping up. "The remainder of you will receive instructions before the end of the day, primarily in one of two veins: securing sustainability for our operations under this awkward situation, and further determining its nature and cause. Please work quickly, but take the time to get some rest tonight -- Dr. LeClair will provide anesthetics as they are needed, to facilitate this. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, as I will need to present some manner of explanation to the rest of our personnel by mid-afternoon at the latest. Hopefully we'll have something worthwhile to tell them by then." "What should the rest of us do?" Pensak asked. He and the other three 'guests' were sitting at a table in the back corner of the room, watching the proceedings in respectful silence. If any of them were to test their rights in this rarefied space, it was always going to be him. Michael Nass, who also hadn't spoken the entire time, turned to look at him with haunted eyes. "Pray on it?" he suggested. "Failing that, as the man said, sleep on it." [!-- [[=image Elstrom_Bremmel_Veiksaar.jpg]] --] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] There was one variable Lillian needed a value for before she'd be able to sleep. Wirth would be a long-term problem, unless she could coax him into her brain for another brush with a kill agent, in which case he could be dealt with at any time, and it wasn't yet urgent. He'd still be smarting from the smack she'd given Du, anyway. Records showed the three security agents were already dead, which bore further investigation, but that was an Ibanez-shaped problem, and Lillian's problems were taller, leaner, and perhaps even meaner, so she focused on them instead. When everyone but their little cabal had vacated the boardroom -- several of them staring with undisguised jealousy at this previously-unsuspected inner council -- she had volunteered to be the one to nail down those particular moving pieces. Both Ibanez and Wettle protested, but McInnis agreed. "If they're in a hostile mood," he said, "I think Dr. Lillihammer might be the only one capable of neutralizing them." Ibanez begrudgingly agreed with this assessment. Wettle mumbled something into his beard, and nobody asked him to repeat himself. Lillian swiped her tablet on, and pulled up the incomplete framework of Eileen's Site AI. A few quick commands, and CLIOMETRIA.EXE supplied an answer that was only half unexpected: a Dr. Alis Lane was waiting for the all-clear at the Arms and Equipment mustering point. It took just a few minutes to make her way there, and no time at all to spot the women in the blue engineer's labcoat with the bright green hair. Lillian yanked her out of a conversation with a few of Bremmel's assistants, who looked universally relieved to be without the presence of their boss for the time it took him to wander back from the meet, and dragged her around the nearest corner. "Hey," Alis protested. "We're not supposed to leave the muster points!" "You'll be fine." Lillian tossed her into the nearest office, not bothering to check who it belonged to, and stalked in after her. "And so will I. We're immune." "Immune to what?" Alis appeared genuinely baffled. It might even have //been// genuine. Lillian closed the door, gently, then shoved the other woman into the nearest wall. "Dr. Lane, is it? As in 'memory lane'? You try too hard. I know you //need// to try too hard, or people forget you even exist, but still. I'd be so much better at being you than you are. You are //lousy// at being you. I have seen you fall in love with William fucking Wettle three fucking times, Alis. Your terrible taste in names and men are two of the only constants that hold across multiple universes." Alis made to widen her mouth to match her eyes, and Lillian pressed her knuckles to the lips. "I'm talking. You're listening. I know who you are. I know why you're here. I know about the //geistschreiber,// I know about the cult you belonged to, I know what you're after and what you'll do to get it. I have half a dozen ways of rendering you a rendered slab of meat instead of a thinking, feeling human being, and I have the authority to get off Scot-free for doing so. Instead, I am asking for your help. Do you want to help me, given that alternative?" [[=image DL_44_01_Lillihammer_Alis.jpg]] Alis said, through the space between Lillian's fingers, "Yes." "Then tell me where the other three are, and do //not// presume to ask me what that means." The other woman's chest heaved with a tremendous sigh, and then she pulled herself away from Lillian along the wall. "The twins are in H&P. Oscar is topside, sending a report back." "Aww. My condolences." Lillian yanked the door open again, and made an impatient gesture for Alis to follow. "Hospital trip, you and me. Pronto." "What did you mean about being immune?" Alis demanded as they headed for the umbilical hall to the Admin section. They'd be entering H&P from the rear; better that her targets not see her coming. "The mind-stealing maniac." She nodded at the crowd assembled by the northern muster point; several of the researchers stared at them, and one even pointed. Lillian pointed back. "The ghost in our shells. Only like I said, not ours-ours. Because I'm unpossessable, to the great and lasting loss of all our local lonely hearts, and //you// are in cahoots, toots." The //geistschreiber// looked less confident about what was happening with every word out of Lillian's mouth. A solid proportion of them had intentionally been discursive chaff. They passed through the foyer of A&O in silence; Karen Elstrom met Lillian's eyes as they swung past Operations Control on their way through the back end offices, a question blazing in blue behind her black-framed glasses. Lillian had no answer for her. After that, it was just a quick skip through the northwest security station before they emerged into Health and Pathology. Lillian prodded the rival memeticist-cum-engineer to the fore, and followed her to the doctors' and nurses' mustering point in the north wards lounge. Forsythe was there, and her obnoxious goth daughter too. The latter was sulking in a corner, as she did, but her mother looked like she wanted to know what was going on. Forsythe had worked here long enough to know that any information coming from Lillian that Lillian hadn't offered up of her own volition was likely to come with barbs on, however, so she didn't press. It was the work of an instant to locate Lillian's next quarry, or whatever the plural of quarry might be: two tall, thin women with matching blonde locks and matching white and blue uniforms, leaning on either side of a water cooler and conversing in low tones. //Probably some horseshit twin language,// she thought as she stalked up to them. [[=image DL_44_04_Tarrows.jpg]] The first Imogen Tarrow -- it was probably neither of their names, but it was the only name she had in association with them -- didn't see her coming, but she definitely felt the long, thin fingers seize her by the hair and pull. The other got enough of a head start to recoil in confusion at their approach, and Lillian used the momentum to shove her into the adjoining washroom before tossing her sister in after her. She glanced back at Alis, and gestured at the gently swinging door. "Go on," she snapped. "We can swap smokes, and talk about boys." When the other woman hesitated, Lillian grabbed her by the neckline and chucked her in, too. [!-- [[=image Alis_Tarrow_Tarrow.jpg]] --] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="text-container-wrap"]] [[div class="text-container"]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank Are you there?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]SYSTEM Message could not be delivered.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank Melissa?[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]SYSTEM Message could not be delivered.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank I'm going to keep trying.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]SYSTEM Message could not be delivered.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank I hope you're out there somewhere.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]SYSTEM Message could not be delivered.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank I'm sorry.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="sent"]] [[span class="text"]]H_Blank Melissa?![[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]SYSTEM Message could not be delivered.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[div class="recv"]] [[span class="text"]]SYSTEM Message could not be delivered.[[/span]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[/div]] [[=image DL_44_02_Blank_Phone.jpg]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] In the absence of anything like a sun or a moon above, Site-43 nevertheless slept. Only the day shifts, of course, but most of the Sections didn't schedule any other. Guards still patrolled their routes or watched their monitors, technicians still roamed the halls or combed the code in search of broken things or bugs, and with the chance to make real headway for the first time in a generation, the sluggish abatement facilities still chugged their glowing gunk, and their minders minded them through the night that only fell symbolically. One by one the Sampis and their allies retired to their bunks for a few stolen hours of rest, 'til only one was left to ponder imponderables. She would still be hard at work when the others greeted the so-called dawn, as she always was and perhaps always would be. "I'm sorry," Ilse Reynders told the ghost of Allan McInnis as she hands-free perused the papers the real one had affixed to her window. "I really need to take a look at this. I'll get back to you when..." But of course, he wasn't really there. She was still glad of the company. It was lonely going, staying lucid in dreamtime. @@ @@ [[=image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[div class="generic"]] [[=]] + ##5D5D5D\|1998## [[/=]] ---- Everything that wasn't there yet was beautiful. Sure, the framework was hideous and the gantries wholly practical. There wasn't an ounce of art in any of it. It was all exposed steel, rivets and capacitors and coils. It looked like the scene of a climactic battle in a science fiction thriller. But where the device would go, the outline of a thing which could encompass every possibility the universe had every itself encompassed... looking up at that emptiness, Xinyi Du knew that negative space could approach the status of art. "Complete to specs," Nascimbeni announced. He was holding a tablet in front of him, waiting for a signature. They stood on the threshold of the final, critical step of this first perilous stretch. Xinyi smiled, and reached for the pad. His father appeared as if from nowhere, snatching the tablet out of Nascimbeni's hand and waving it at the old technician as though it were a fan. "Restrictive! We talked about this, did we not? Those supports are too //restrictive.// It will take more power to turn, now. That will leave less for the simulations. You have //compromised the project.//" Nascimbeni chewed his inner cheek for a moment before responding. "Qiang, we //did// talk about this. The way you wanted the thing built, it would shake itself apart without constant maintenance. You saw the spatial constraints. It's going to be a bitch to look after this thing when it's done. You won't let us spin it down for repairs, so that leaves me--" "Bah!" The elder Du clawed at the tablet. "Here's your damn signature. Now get the hell out." To Xinyi's surprise, Nascimbeni smiled. "Always a pleasure doing business with you." Qiang scowled for a moment longer, and then as it always did, the cloud dissipated without a trace. He clapped Nascimbeni on his vinyl back, and together they looked up through the complex socket into which they would one day plug the DUAL Core. "Do you know, Noè? I can almost picture it now." Xinyi walked behind Nascimbeni to stand beside his father. "It's going to be amazing." [!-- [[=image Nascimbeni_Du_Du.jpg]] --] Qiang smirked. "Only amazing? Child, it is going to be //incomprehensible.// It will take decades to begin to understand the things it tells us. And once we understand, it will put you out of a job." As ever, it was difficult to articulate a response to what the other man was saying. Xinyi tried anyway. "Only me? Not you?" The scowl threatened to return, but Nascimbeni's laugh swept it away. "He's learning to kick back, Qi. Watch your ass." "I don't need child-rearing advice from //you,//" the Chair of Quantum Supermechanics snapped bitterly. Xinyi wanted to say something to make the seconds that followed less awkward, to reclaim the abortive sense of camaraderie, but if anything would have done the trick, he couldn't think of it in time. The Chief's cheeks hollowed out, and his lower lip crumpled under his upper, and he nodded. "Suit yourself, then. When you've got something worth installing, you know my number." And he walked away. "You ruined the moment," Xinyi told his father. "Why do you always have to ruin the moment?" Qiang snorted, and gestured up at their absent creation. "You still don't understand. After all I've tried to teach you. //That,//" and he stabbed a finger in the empty air, "will let you make every moment precisely what you want it to be. //That,// is where the future is. Keep your head up, child. Keep your focus high. And before it replaces you, you might get the chance to see the world as it does." "Will," Xinyi muttered. "//Will// do. It hasn't arrived yet." "Then what am I doing, still standing here?" Qiang asked, almost thinking aloud more than responding, and he stalked out after Nascimbeni. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="udoflashback"]] She stood in the desert. The sands were not warm, but cool. That didn't matter, because she was warm. Udo could feel a blazing heat within her breast, within her eyes, within her soul, and it radiated out to the sparkling expanse of silica which surrounded her. She knew that with a single gesture she could sink into those cool sands and draw them up around her, that the warmth from within would fuse them together, that she could become the desert and in so doing cause the desert to become //more.// She knew that some day she would do this thing. It was as inevitable as the rising of the moons in the sky. A stirring of wind against her naked skin, her hair recoiling away in auburn streamers. She turned her head to look, and what she saw was a rising storm on the far horizon. She was being watched. The air was expectant. Somewhere in the darkening cloud, something stirred. A bird cried out in shrill protest, then thunder. [[=image DL_44_05_Okorie_First_Vision.jpg]] It was coming. [!-- [[=image Udo_Sands.jpg]] --] [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="generic"]] [[=]] + ##5D5D5D\|2001## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][http://www.scpwiki.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- He was about to ask her to give it to him straight when she said: "I can't do anything more. I'm sorry." Emilié LeClair had fantastic bedside manner. She was a kind, considerate, empathetic physician despite decades of work at the SCP Foundation, the world's most efficient machine for grinding down goodwill. Perhaps it was that empathy, that insight into the characters of her patients and their loved ones, which had told her how best to break the news to him. Or perhaps she was simply tired. She always seemed to be tired, these days. Gedeon Van Rompay looked down at his wife. She was on her back in a hospital bed, blue and white sheets tucked under her chin, eyes closed, breathing shallow but regular. She looked peaceful. He felt like a followup question was indicated, like he ought to protest this casual cutting-off of Diana Van Rompay's life story branches, leaving only the dead leader, but he didn't have it in him. He was tired, too, and if a medical doctor and Section Chair at Site-43 told you there was nothing she could do, then there was quite simply nothing to be done. [[=image DL_44_03_Van_Rompay_Sad.jpg]] Just a day before, Diana had been digging in their garden in Grand Bend. She'd been planting a bed of azaleas. So far as he knew, she'd never gardened before. So far as he knew, she hated bright and garish colours, and that was the only kind of colour azaleas came in. He hadn't asked her why she'd done this, and now he never could. "Okay," he said finally. He met LeClair's gaze. "What happens next?" The doctor's deep blue eyes were wells of sympathy now; not empathy, because she'd never experienced anything like this before herself, but instead a generous fellow-feeling. "We can keep her here as long as necessary," she said simply. Van Rompay had panicked when he found Diana on the kitchen floor, trowel in hand, jeans filthy with soil, drooling onto the asbestos tiles he'd never gotten around to replacing. //They're safe as long as the glazing doesn't crack. I can put it off for another year. This isn't relevant. You're spiralling.// He'd called his agents at 43 instead of a local hospital, both out of habit and the knowledge that there was no major medical facility within Grand Bend. He'd driven his wife to the clandestine facility himself, carried her down the topside elevator and placed her on a waiting gurney. He'd pulled and abused his rank, and as of yet there had been no obvious consequences. It was only now dawning on him that he'd ensured his wife would die one kilometre underground. //Buried alive, then buried dead.// "As long as necessary," he repeated. "So, until the end?" "That's right." LeClair didn't tell him there were no other options, this time. He took it as read. "Can you spare a private room?" he asked, on autopilot. Running through the checklist. "Isn't this..." LeClair blinked, then raised her hand halfway to her head as though seriously considering slapping her forehead. "Right." She glanced at the drawn curtain beside them as though seeing it for the first time. "She won't need much in the way of palliative care, and frankly it won't be very long anyway. She's only in the ward because we thought we might need to work quickly." "I'm really sorry," said a male voice from beyond the curtain. Van Rompay had no idea who it belonged to, and didn't care. He sighed. "Alright. Let's get her settled. Then I need to have a talk with my people." To his surprise, the doctor reached out to take his shoulder in one spindly-fingered hand. "Are you going to be okay? Do you have some place to stay tonight?" He laughed. It had none of his usual boisterous bluster. "I have an embarassment of places to stay, Emilié. An empty dorm, a full barracks, and an empty house." The fingers tightened their grip. "What I mean is, do you have anyone to look in on you? You shouldn't be alone." This, he felt, was out of line. Off-script. She knew him well enough, everyone at Site-43 did, to know that he could weather any storm on his own. There was something more than concern in her sleepy eyes, now. He opened his mouth to tell her yes, he'd be fine, and instead he found himself telling her "No." She squeezed his shoulder. "Stay in your dorm tonight. I'll come by after my shift." He found himself nodding. He found himself rising from the chair. He found himself taking her fingers in his, and awkwardly shaking her hand before releasing it. He found himself walking for the door, away from the only thing in his life that had ever been strictly personal, and on his way out of the wardroom he saw the fresh-faced and freckled researcher in the next bed with his leg up in a cast. "Hey," the kid said weakly. "I'm really, really sorry. I hope it turns out okay." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="jandm"]] [[=]] + ##CC9900\|2007## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##990011\|Grand Cove##: Grand Bend, Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]][[/=]] ----- "You got her all excited for nothing." Nascimbeni grunted. "I said I'd think about it. That was supposed to mean 'no'." His son took a long draft of beer. He only tipped it back when Nascimbeni said something that irritated him, and he needed the extra seconds to compose a less cutting response. He had drained most of the bottle this way already. "She's twelve years old, dad. Everything that isn't 'no' means 'yes'." They were sitting on the back patio of Gallo's bungalow in Grand Bend, watching his granddaughter chase her Labrador retriever in circles on the grass. It was an open question which animal would tire first. Right now it looked like they could romp forever. "I don't see what the big deal is." Gallo was practically sighing every sentence. "It's a water treatment plant. Other kids are getting factory tours. One of her friends' father works at a meat packing place, and he's not being squeamish. Why should you?" Nascimbeni had been pulling on the bottle whenever Gallo said something he didn't want to respond to. This had already emptied it entirely. "It just isn't safe." Gallo tapped the glass table with the bottom of his bottle. "Explain that. Explain how it isn't safe where you work." "It just isn't. Okay? Trust me on this." In the yard, Flora screamed. Nascimbeni started, and leaned toward her protectively, but she was only razzling the dog. Gallo hadn't so much as flinched; as her father, he knew the difference between a scream of joy and a scream of fear or pain. No, that wasn't entirely it. It wasn't just because he was her father. It was because //he// had actually been here every day for the past twelve years. "I don't get you." Gallo tapped the glass again to regain his father's attention. "What's had you so on edge?" "Nothing." Nascimbeni tipped the bottle back once more, just in case. Just for something to do. It was dry as a bone. "Look. I'll see what I can figure out, okay? Maybe there's something.' Gallo smiled. "No you won't." "I will!" "I remember that tone. You sounded just like that when you told me Romo couldn't stay over on Christmas Eve." Nascimbeni froze. Gallo frowned. "Christ, is that it? Tell me that's not it." Nascimbeni set down his bottle, and wiped the condensation off on his jeans. "He slipped in the shower, dad. It wasn't your fault. It's not //related.//" Nascimbeni stood up. "I should get going." "Can I tell her you reconsidered?" [[=image DL_44_06_Nascimbeni_Angry_Gallo.jpg]] A force he couldn't control sent him stumbling against the table, and as the bottle fell to shatter against the paving stones that he and Gallo and Romolo Ambrogi had set on a sunny summer day not so long ago and not so different from this one, he shouted at his son: "No means //no!//" [!-- [[=image Nascimbeni_Gallo_Flora.jpg]] --] [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="generic"]] [[=]] + ##5D5D5D\|2009## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- "No, that's alright," Karen simpered. "I can wait for you to finish this year's report. Right now I want to talk to you about Philip Deering." The psychologist's face fell further. "Philip Deering." "I have concerns about his containment procedures." [[/div]] [[div class="muddle"]] In the modern era, most structures are planned from first principles. Their forms follow their projected functions. But if they last long enough, they are almost always adapted to suit the specific needs of those little bundles of action and aspiration they are built to contain: their human users. Site-43 is no different. Janitorial and Maintenance Technician Second Class Philip Deering has had a small but immediately recognizable effect on the contents of Site-43. Unbeknownst to the man himself, he is SCP-5056-B in the Foundation's database. 5056-A is a mirror monster that follows him around relentlessly, which only he can hear. The containment procedures for this joint anomaly are simple: Deering is not to leave Site-43. As he's never showed any initiative to do so on his own, what this looks like in practice is bureaucratic obstruction to make scheduling a vacation seem like too much of a hassle, and workplace propitiation to make transfering careers seem less enticing. His physical containment apparatus is cheaper than most, but omnipresent: a massive program of mirror-mounting throughout the Site to ensure that -A always has somewhere safe to manifest -- because it flips its lid with an ear-splitting shriek when it doesn't -- which has essentially neutralized the problem. One man's needs, or rather the necessities of handling one man's personal peculiarities, can have a cascade effect on everyone sharing his space. The staff of Site-43 now see their own faces far more often every working day than do their counterparts at comparable facilities. Luckily, for the most part, they're also much more capable of facing those reflections without shame. [[>]] -- Blank, //Lines in a Muddle// [[/>]] [[/div]] [[div class="generic"]] "What kind of concerns?" Karen plucked a piece of paper from inside her tight orange vest, unfolded it, and handed it over. It was handwritten, and judging by the look on her face, Ngo recognized the script. [[div class="blockquote"]] Hello Dr. Elstrom, You don't know me, but my name is Philip Deering. I was wondering if you I would like it very much if you Do you think that you and I [[/div]] Karen felt her nostrils twitch as Ngo read the simple note. When the psychologist looked up at her, questions in her eyes, Karen said: "He's getting lazier all the time, don't you think? Didn't even bother to cross each line out." Ngo was obviously confused. "Did he give this to you? It's obviously not finished." "Yes," Karen agreed, adding as much patronizing sneer into her tone as she felt propriety allowed, "it is //obviously// not finished. But the point is, he might have finished it. He was going to ask me on a date, Dr. Ngo. With a //note.//" Ngo's mouth worked back and forth for a few seconds as she considered her next words. "I assume Security and Containment found this while sweeping his quarters." "Of course. He's a permanent security risk. If we need to step up containment efforts, make them more //overt,// we need to know that as soon as possible." [[=image DL_44_10_Ngo_Conflicted.jpg]] "So, what do you want me to do about it? It feels more like an HR issue than anything psychological." Karen tented her fingers on the other woman's desk. "I want you to comb your other psych profiles, and find another rock for this limpet to cling to. There's enough garbage piled on me already." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashblank"]] [[=]] [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##990011\|Forrestall's Lagoon##: Georgian Bay, Lake Huron, Ontario, Canada[[/span]][[/=]] ----- Harry stood on the beach, and stared. Their sailboat bobbed on the water, not that there was very much current in the sheltered inlet. He was far enough up the rocky beach that the bizarrely flat deck was flush with the horizon; he smiled to think how many people had pointed and stared at the little S2 with its washboard profile, though that wasn't much compensation for how often he and his parents banged their skulls on the shortened ceiling. "Watch your head" was the most common thing they said to each other on their Great Lake vacations, typically as ironic commentary on yet another brutal bump. The water was clear, crystal clear, little more than a coat of gloss on the bowl of Canadian Shield in which they were anchored. He followed the anchor chain down, down, //down// into the depths, to where it nestled in the forecastle of the massive sunken ship, and shivered in the warm sunlight. It sat upright on the basin floor, masts intact, rigging still in place. He was no good at judging distance, but it had to be a hundred feet below the surface of the water; the crow's nest was safely beneath the level of the S2's stubby keel, though not by much. Seeing the squat boat rocking gently in waters little more refractive than air above the unmanageably vast galleon -- was it a galleon? What made the distinction? -- filled him with nauseous vertigo. At every instant it felt that gravity must reassert itself, and the lesser fall into the greater, and be lost. He walked to the water's edge and peered at the quivering apparition below. The water tinted it faintly blue, like a ghost ship, but he could make out every detail. Bowsprit and figurehead, decks fore and aft, stem to stern he searched the vessel for some clue as to how it might possibly exist. The ship's height and his distance from it made it seem as though it were leaning away, and he squinted to see how solidly its belly rested against the rock, as though in so doing he might discover a fatal flaw, and... what? Do what? He couldn't dive down and stabilize the thing, even had it not been so massive, because he couldn't dive at all. He could only barely swim. He'd never even had the courage to put his head below water and open his eyes, and he certainly wouldn't try it with the //Weight// looming up from below him. All that drowned space. What might be floating within it, rotting, rocking in that sunken cradle? Who did it all belong to? Who was //responsible?// Beside him, she whispered, "I am," but he felt his own lips forming the words. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashdel"]] [[=]] + ##2B5FB3\|1994## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##F7F7F7\|████████-██##, Village of Zevala, Argentina[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- Fina ran her fingers over the sleek black sheathe, then experimentally inserted her arm into it. The fit wasn't snug, as she'd known it wouldn't be, but if the manuals she'd been consulting were correct, that wouldn't matter. She grasped the cuff, and twisted; with an almost subaudible hiss, the sheathe conformed to the shape of the muscles in her arm. She flexed, and tested the blood flow to her fingers. The material moved like nothing she'd ever worn before. She nodded, and left the rest of the suit lying there on the table. //For now.// The halls of ##F7F7F7\|████████-██## were stark and windowless, nothing so much as a corkboard to break up the tiled monotony, and not for the first time she found herself missing the cozy, porous shack she'd grown up in. The way it swelled and settled in tune with the temperature, the way it whistled in the wind and moaned with the moving of the earth, the way it smelled. The way the air tasted. In here, it tasted like metal... though probably she should have been glad there was any air at all, considering how long this place had been abandoned. //And how long is that, precisely?// She didn't know. There were voluminous records left lying around, and she'd consulted them over and over across the long ##F7F7F7\|████## she'd already spent living in this spartan space. She had chosen to tackle the problem methodically, much as she'd done while dismantling the Insurgency's hold on her ravaged village; she had always loved puzzles, in her past life, and that approach suited the scene well. An access card here would open a door there, a computer behind that door would unlock a hidden partition somewhere else, and behind that partition she might find a ring of keys, or a cache of documents, or in the case of the locker room she'd just accessed after ##F7F7F7\|█ ████## of trying, something she could actually use to settle the situation outside. Not that it was getting any worse, or more urgent, in her absence. ##F7F7F7\|██ ██████ ███ ████ ███ ████##, they'd be waiting for her just the same. Still. The rarefied air made her sinuses sore, and her feet ached from the lack of give on the hard ceramic floors, and she found herself desperately longing for the sensation of sunlight on her skin. She had been raised on the beach, in the bay, on the hills and in the forests. That was where she had lived all her life, and while so much of her had also died there, that which remained... She gummed her teeth meaninglessly. For the first few ##F7F7F7\|████## she'd tried to sing, to comfort herself, but the words wouldn't come. Humming had worked no better. She had apparently reached the end of music. More than ##F7F7F7\|█ ████## of attempting to talk to herself had been similarly fruitless. Still the words wouldn't come. It felt somehow disrespectful to the dead. Revenants weren't meant to speak. They were meant to avenge. She reached her final scrounging target for the day. It had taken ##F7F7F7\|███████ █????? █████## to find the Level 4 access key that would open this vault. The schematics she'd found elsewhere suggested it housed some abandoned and forgotten research project, but her time in ceramic hell had taught her that things were rarely as they seemed where the ##F7F7F7\|█████████ ████ ██ ██████████ ██████## was concerned. She swiped her card through the reader, took a deep breath, and pressed the big green button. In another ##F7F7F7\|█████##, though she could not yet have imagined it, she would be standing on ##F7F7F7\|███████ ██████##. [!-- [[=image Fina_Site.jpg]] --] [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashwet"]] [[=]] + ##6666FF\|2009## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][http://www.scpwiki.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-169 Site-169]: Glassford Hill, Yavapai County, Arizona, United States of America[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- Vincent Bohart was like a pile of laundry. Clean or dirty, it didn't matter. //Probably dirty.// Wettle had always hated putting his laundry back in the dresser, or into the machine. He'd set himself the mental task of hauling it all from the basket and stuffing it in where it went -- in the case of his dresser, he had enough wrinkles on his person and his character that wrinkles on his clothes didn't matter -- and no matter what, he'd drop something. Everything worked that way for him. Positively, //negatively// everything. If he tried not to knock over his drinking glass, knock it over he would. If he tried not to say the wrong thing... //Focus.// Vincent Bohart was like that. Like an armful of dirty laundry that was bound and determined to land on your clean new shoes. Or a fly that made it its personal mission in life to land on your eyeball. If you tried to avoid him, he'd zero in like a cruise missile without even seeming to target you intentionally. "Bilbo!" he crowed, putting an arm around Wettle's shoulders. "How's my favourite..." He let the adjective hang, modifying nothing. "Vince." "Some spread, huh?" Wettle shrugged. The Foundation used Site-169 for social functions, which had always struck him as out of character with its overall shadow government vibe, and he avoided as many invitations to attend as he could. There was an actual hard limit to that; more than one department was dedicated to tracking each employee's progress towards the final crack, and forestalling it as long as possible, so here he was by their polite but firm 'request'. At a //mixer,// of all things. Bohart had certainly been mixing, judging by the state of his breath. "You know, Bilbo," he burped conspiratorially, "lotta folks been asking about you since you left. Like whatsisface. And whatsername. And the ugly one." Wettle nodded. "What the hell've you been up to, man?!" He could have said anything. Bohart wouldn't remember in the morning. He said nothing instead. "Listen." The balding old mooch pulled a deck of cards out of nowhere, and brandished them at Wettle. "These little beauties. You know what we're gonna do with these, you and me? There's a Level 4 poker game in the habs right now, and we're gonna crash it. You know what those other Directors get paid?" He blinked, and a look of almost genuine hurt flashed across his unfocused eyes. "Do you? I don't. But it's a lot. Now, you're my ticket in. I've got just the job for a man of your talents. Remember those chips you used to steal? Same principle. Now, in poker, they use these little plastic discs called--" "I've been saving the world," Wettle snapped. "There's a magic explosion that happens every year, where I work, and I make sure it happens. That's what I've been up to." Bohart's brow furrowed. He returned the cards to the uncertain whence from which they'd come. He withdrew his arm from Wettle's shoulder, like footage of Phil Silvers run in reverse. "Magic explosion. Where you work." "Yes." "Every year." "That's right." Bohart shook his head sorrowfully. "Jesus Christ, you're still just a fuckup?" [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashboss"]] [[=]] + ##990099\|1970## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]]##990011\|The Rambles##: Herefordshire, West Midlands, England, United Kingdom[[/span]] [[/=]] ----- [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] When the lines are in a muddle – as they very often are – When the break’s a mile away from you, or maybe twice as far, When you have to sort the trouble out, and fix it on the run, It’s fine to know that you can go, when everything is done, To a cosy little dug-out (and the subject of this ode) Just a comfy little bivvy on the – Road, A sheltered, sandbagged doorway with the flap flung open wide, And a pal to grin a greeting when you step inside. [[/=]] [[/div]] "What purpose is this em dash serving?" Allan asked his father. "Which?" Malcolm McInnis leaned over the book to see where his son was pointing. "Oh. That's an en-dash, actually." "Helpful," Allan sighed. His father didn't seem to hear him, locked into lecture preparation mode. "Well, there's two possibilities. Sometimes in the late Victorian era and a little while after, they'd do that with proper nouns for some reason. Just sort of cross them out. That's one possibility. Of course, it's also a war poem, so the name of the road might have been stricken by the censors. Army security. And you can't discount the possibility that he just never came up with a name he liked, and forgot to finish the line. Either way, it doesn't matter." "Mm." Allan twiched his nose. "It does break the scansion, though." He could hear his father rolling his eyes. "That's not the sort of detail I'd like you to focus on, Allan." [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] When the weather’s simply damnable – cold sleet and driving rain – When the poles snap off like matches and the lines are down again, And you rip your freezing fingers as you work the stubborn wire, It’s great to get back home again, and dry off by the fire. In a cheery little dug-out (and you know the kind I mean) With a red-hot stove a-roaring, and a floor that’s none too clean, A pipe that’s filled and waiting and a book that will not wait, And a cup of steaming coffee if you come back late. [[/=]] [[/div]] "What //would// you like me to focus on, father?" Malcolm sat down at the polished oak table and tapped the poetry book for emphasis. "Tell me what mood he's going for." "Cozy." "Yes. But in contrast. Contrast with what?" "War. He is making the unique and percipient observation that war is unpleasant." Malcolm's nose twitched, too. Allan made a mental note to lose the affectation. "Keep reading." [[div class="blockquote"]] [[=]] It may look a little crowded, and the roof’s a trifle low, But it’s water-tight – or nearly – and it wasn’t built for show, And when Woolly Bears are crumping and the shrapnel sprays around, You feel a whole lot safer if you’re underneath the ground In a rat-proof, rain-proof dug-out (and it’s splinter-proof as well) Where we got the stuff to build it is a thing I mustn’t tell, But we’ve made it strong and solid, and we’re cosy, rain or shine, In our happy little dug-out on the firing line. [[/=]] [[/div]] Allan closed the book. "So, solidarity." "Correct." "Forbearance." "Also correct." "The comforts of home as a salve against troubles without." "Precisely." Allan considered. "This regards my applications." He had applied to a wide swathe of Europe's colleges and universities, in the secret hope against hope that England's best wouldn't want him. No such luck, of course; he'd been courted by Oxford and Cambridge both almost immediately, and King's, and London, and Manchester. Helsinki, Copenhagen, Utrecht and the rest flooded in after, and though he'd tried to intercept that mail before it reached his parents, no such luck. His father's response had been typically McInnis: he'd entered the library of their spacious manor home, and didn't come out until he'd located this precise volume, and presented it to his son for perusing and commentary. "Is the point well-taken?" Allan considered further. "Helsinki is cold?" Malcolm sighed. "Allan, the perspective in that poem was hard-won. Some people have to go through great hardship to discover the value of home. Some //don't// have to, because they can learn from the mistakes of others. War is almost always a mistake. Leaving your people behind is almost always a mistake." "Mm." Allan popped the book back open to the correct page. His fingers just had the knack. "This says it was written by Edgar McInnis. Relative?" "Distant." "In which sense?" "Both. A distant relative on distant shores. I believe he teaches university in Canada, now." "Ah. One of those." A cloud came over his father's face at the oblique reference, and his body language closed off. "Is this going someplace?" "A Canadian's words instruct me on the value of English hearth and home, presumably learned in... France, I would imagine? Travel truly does broaden the mind." Malcolm picked up the book, and stood. "You're determined to be stubborn, then." "I understand those to be synonyms." "Well, I only hope you remember 'Our Dug-Out' when you're cold and alone, wherever you end up." "I think I shall," he nodded. "I heartily agree that there's much to be said for warmth, shelter, and wholesome good company." [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="generic"]] [[=]] + ##5D5D5D\|1999## [[span style="font-family: BauhausLTDemi; font-size: 120%;"]][https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/secure-facility-dossier-site-43 Site-43]: Lambton County, Ontario, Canada[[/span]] [[/=]] ---- "Come in, technician." McInnis could have left the last word off, and she would never have known if he knew his ten o'clock from his eleven. Or ten thirty, or ten fifteen; she wasn't really clear how much of his schedule she'd laid claim to when his secretary pencilled her in. He'd appended her title so she'd know he knew, and she appreciated that. Perhaps he knew that too. Maybe he was feeling agreeable. Maybe they could come to an agreement. //Maybe stop thinking, start walking, and start __talking__.// Eileen entered the Director's office. McInnis was sitting at what she still thought of as Scout's desk, hands clasped, friendly smile in place as always. He gestured with his forehead at the visitor's chair. "Please." She tried to cross the empty space with alacrity, but there was rather a lot of it, and her legs weren't very long. The void left McInnis and his tiny scatter of furniture the room's focal point, which made him look strangely small -- he wasn't very tall, but he looked positively elfin from a distance, sat behind that monstrous credenza. She found this inexplicably calming; inexplicable until she realized it gave him a superficial resemblance to his predecessor. Scout had shrunk quite a lot in the last few years of his Directorship. Perhaps this, too, was a sign. She sat down. "What can I help you with today, Dr. Veiksaar?" Not just in general, but today specifically. He might help with something else tomorrow, if she needed it. She was overthinking in her panic, but his degree was in communications, after all. He was undoubtedly overthinking his own words too. She only hoped she had chosen hers just as carefully, rehearsed as they would be. "Sir, I have a moral concern about DR-RHETORIC." He nodded. No surprise, and the smile didn't falter. "I see. Please, go on." DR-RHETORIC was an expensive, complicated lie. Site-43 claimed to be developing a predictive machine with superhuman intelligence, capable of answering all manner of scientific queries, particularly in regards to the sticky field of acroamatic abatement. Eileen and her fellow technicians had spent years developing AI algorithms and self-repairing circuitry, enough to plausibly support such an electronic agent, but much of it was only a blind. All the DR-RHETORIC program really did was filter out the more problematic noise issuing from its central processing unit: reality bender Wynn Rydderech, very much a living, breathing human being, driven slowly mad by his own immeasurable powers in an endless underground factory of his own design. Her team had fed fibre optic cables down through the Site's ventral membranes, and set up their dishonest human-to-human interface, and published their lies to a smattering of polite applause. The system worked. Dr. Rydderech was contributing again to what Scout had called the Good Work, whether he really understood it or not. "I've been going through the noise reports." DR-RHETORIC parsed out anything personal or inscrutable that Rydderech attempted to communicate, and wrote it to a junk file for review and deletion. To keep up the illusion. To allow his abusers to abuse him in innocence. //You should be saying this out loud.// Instead, she said: "He's becoming more erratic. I believe he's in pain, sir." McInnis nodded again. The placidly welcoming expression hadn't changed. "Do you judge DR-RHETORIC's efficacy as a project has been negatively affected by these developments?" It was so precise, so measured, that she almost wondered if //he'd// rehearsed his response without first having heard her complaints. But he had always been honest with her so far, at least so far as he'd been able, given their respective positions and clearance, so she owed him the truth. This was, after all, at least partially about what was true. "No, sir. Efficiency continues to rise. It's possible... I've heard it suggested by the analysts," those few who were cleared to know where all this data was really coming from, "that he produces more data, and better, in a state of agitation. But..." She spread her hands hopelessly. He had to meet her halfway, or there was no point in making this entreaty. "But you don't believe torturing a mentally ill old man is justified by the value his ramblings bring our organization." She exhaled. She hadn't realized it, but she'd stopped breathing for a moment. "That's right, sir." Once more, he nodded. "So noted. What else is troubling you this morning, Eileen?" He hadn't called her Eileen before. He'd parcelled her identifiers out, one at a time -- technician, Dr. Veiksaar, Eileen -- demonstrating mastery of the subject, humanizing the interaction by degrees, and pacing the conversation at the same time. But he hadn't actually resolved that conversation's topic, had he? "I... well, I mean..." He placed both hands on the desk blotter, palms up. It was a very Scout thing to do. "You may rest assured that your moral indignation will be taken into account. There are considerations in this matter to which you are not privy, but I promise that my commitment to Dr. Rydderech's well-being is unflagging. If there is anything else I might help you with today, by all means let me know." She swallowed. Again her body had been hard at work without her knowledge; a lump she hadn't felt before jogged up and down as the gulp passed through. "No, sir," she breathed hoarsely. Lamely. "That's all, sir." He clasped his hands again. "Thank you. You're doing excellent work, technician. Chief Briggs is very pleased." She nodded. She stood. She glanced down at the desk blotter, then with some effort, up at him. "Excellent work, sir?" "That's right." "But is it //good// work? Sir?" She thought she saw a flash of something in his grey eyes, just then, but it might have been her still-hopeful imagination. She'd imagined a lot of things about Allan McInnis, thought she'd seen quite a lot in him, and apparently she had been mistaken. [[=image DL_44_12_Eileen_Disappointed.jpg]] He still looked like Scout as she exited the office and looked back, gently shutting the door between them. But in her mind's eye, try though she might, all she could see was Rudolph Marroquin. [[/div]] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[div class="flashyhammer"]] There were gears grinding in the distance, and the sound of padding footsteps, and black-slit yellow eyes watching from every corner. Rydderech hardly seemed to notice. "Seven things, for you are one of seven. I can tell you only one today, and this, I do regret." He smiled with a sadness so pure and profound, aged to expressive perfection, that even in the dream of the memory she felt tears welling up in her own eyes. "That is the key, the theme, the central node of this network of cascading failures. The child of memory and the mother of shame." [[=image DL_44_07_Rydderech_Regret.jpg]] "What?" she said. "What is?" "We are breaking the laws of the universe, Lillian," he scolded her. "The least you can do is pay closer attention." [!-- [[=image Rydderech_Regret.jpg]] --] [[/div]] She woke up. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] [[=]] + ##990011\|2011## ++ 9 September [[/=]] ---- They were quite a throng now, Nascimbeni thought. McInnis had everyone not on the taskforce but implicated in the crisis camping out in his secretary's workroom and personal quarters -- Zulfikar had endured the ignominy with faux good grace, and retired to a single room down the hall -- which were now filled with bedrolls and bug-out bags. Until the announcement, which would come in a few short hours, they didn't want to lose sight of anyone whose knowledge stretched farther than their trustworthiness. Pensak and O were told to keep an eye on the three //geistschreiber,// which allowed for the maintenance of the polite fiction that the two agents weren't themselves awkwardly overinformed. Ibanez made a point of keeping out of their hair; if she'd taken a strong interest, that would have rung hollow. It wasn't safe for anyone to feel ill-used until after the cat was well out of the bag. Nobody saw where the ASC was sleeping. Probably there were extra bedrooms tucked away in the deeper reaches of the Director's Complex; it had once been the Directors' Complex, after all. "I've got a lead," Lillian was saying. "Don't ask what it is yet, in case it doesn't pan out." "Why would that preclude you from telling us?" Udo asked. Lillian glanced at Harry, who would normally explain his friend's eccentricities to the group with a dose of wry sarcasm. But he wasn't on speaking terms with Udo anymore, so he glanced back at her and shrugged defiantly. "Because," Lillian sighed, "I hate being wrong. So let it be." "I've read Veiksaar's report," Nascimbeni grumbled, "and compiled my own. Long story short, we seem to be sustainable for the moment. All systems are getting enough of what they need, be that air, water, or electricity. The power's coming from the geothermal vents, which are still intact so far as we can see; no idea how far down the bedrock goes. The water supply's always been overstocked for AcroAbate purposes, and like the vents, the wells are still active too. As for the air, I don't really understand it, but there seems to be no shortage. The empty space around the Site is packed with breathable oxygen-nitrogen." He rattled it all off like it was nothing, because to his mind, it was. He'd cried himself to sleep, and woke up feeling empty on a cold, dry pillow. "Just about everybody in AAF-A knows the world fucked off out there," Del said. "But Gedeon's got them under control. We'll pipe in the announcement when you make it, Allan, but I'd like to send some extra guards through the subway just in case it gets ugly over there." "Assuming the subway is still breathable," McInnis mused, "I think I'd rather we ferried them back here for the address. We should face this crisis a single, united body." She shrugged assent. "Nothing in the archives yet to explain what happened." Harry's voice was low and lazy enough that he could have been talking in his sleep. He didn't make eye contact with anyone. "I don't know what's going on either," Wettle added unnecessarily. "Dr. Okorie?" McInnis prompted. By the sound of her voice, she'd been crying too. The glasses hid most of the damage. "Distance readings pick up no human beings past the boundaries of the Site. Séances only function for people who died down here." She wrinkled her nose. "I'd like to try contacting the spirits of people who died in baseline, but not this timeline. I didn't explain it that precisely, of course, but Mataxas is game." "I'm sure he is," the Director smiled. "We've lost thirty-four personnel topside," the ASC began as soon as McInnis turned to face him. Always in tune, those two. "Including Chief Mitchum, the camp patrols, and of course the Nexus-94 reserves." They let that sit for a moment, respectfully. The big man had just described the potential annihilation of all the people he'd worked for years to safeguard. His face was unreadable; it probably helped that McInnis had briefed him on the nature of the alternate timelines, but it could only help so much. Nascimbeni knew that for a fact. He remembered a few things he hadn't already said, but needed to, and interjected when the moment had passed. "Exterior survey is underway, techs and guards and drones. So far, it seems pretty clear that the Site and its environs have been deliberately preserved." "Or modelled," said Du, "and replicated." His temples were now a brilliant shade of violet. "Our friends in the back room claim not to know anything." Lillian suddenly grinned. "I agree with that assessment. But I'll be grilling them anyway, and just about everyone else besides. Harry can keep digging in his old files, but I'm going to produce a few new ones." "How many?" McInnis asked her. "You said we've lost thirty-four people, Chief?" The ASC nodded. "Then roughly one thousand, minus thirty-four." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] The auditorium was packed. McInnis looked out from the central stage at his people, nearly all of them, shifting his stance and pacing the little square of carpet to grace each compass point in turn with attention and affection. He'd discarded the podium, and his hands were in his pockets. It wasn't a conversation, and they weren't all equals, but he wanted them to know that they were all affected equally just the same. The furor had risen and fallen like a summer storm. A few shocked exclamations, a sudden smattering of bewildered coughs and cries, a torrent of confused shouting, a roar of voices like wind in the treetops, then finally the gradual fall of a stunned silence. He waited patiently for the last mutterings to die away before resuming his address. "I have stated this plainly, without elaboration, so that you might understand the gravity of what we do next. Every act performed in this facility for the next twelve months can potentially contribute to the restoration of the human race, if indeed we are its final representatives, or at least our restoration to the fold, wherever they or we may presently roam. It might also contribute to our permanent stranding out here in the black, a testament to our own lack of planning and discipline, or conversely the very extinction of our species should we fail to rise to the occasion. One thousand men and women may be sufficient to produce a stable human population, but I for one would rather prefer not to chance it." [[=image DL_44_08_McInnis_Speech.jpg]] He could see, amongst the anguished faces looking down at him from every direction, faint glimmers of hope and humour. Some at least could glimpse the edges of the jokes he'd sanded down to an almost homeopathic vestige. Others could see that their leader was unafraid, unbroken, and as effortlessly loquacious as ever, and draw strength from his apparently unflagging supply. "I am not at liberty to disclose the results of our initial investigations, nor will I likely be informing you when those investigations conclude. You may never know precisely what placed us in this predicament. What you will know, as you have known it before, is the warm embrace of our wayward friends, family and neighbours. For I pledge to you now that should you carry out your duties, as ordered, as you would have done without question had nothing changed between this day and the last, that the //status quo// as you knew it will assert itself once more. We shall be reunited, every and all, by our own sweat and toil within the confines of this, our home." "To restore the light, my friends, we must for a time reside in the dark. Hold fast to each other, and trust in yourselves, as I have always trusted in you." "Dismissed." [!-- [[=image McInnis_Monologue.jpg]] --] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Pensak was still serving in the Director's honour guard during the speech, so he stayed by the stage as the crowd dispersed back to the mustering points. Ibanez waited until the room was mostly clear, just a few of the Chairs and Chiefs holding back to speak with McInnis about whatever they had to report, then rose to the back bleachers and motioned the lanky agent to join her. With the extra elevation in her favour, he noticed quickly and complied with due speed. "Got something to ask," she began as he headed up the steps between them. He stopped climbing, and they stood nearly at eye level. She made a mental note to talk in here more often. "So ask." Even in the midst of potentially the greatest tragedy ever to befall their shared species, Pensak was still insolently flippant. "My deputy was visiting his wife when the curtain came down." Howard Yancy had been the first person not in their little group she'd sought out in both of the previous timelines, and she had named the little ache beneath her ribcage on the left side after him and his disappearance. "I therefore have no deputy. You don't have seniority, but you have got the chops. Want the job?" For the first time since she'd collected him from subsidized housing in Grand Bend, in an apartment with no air conditioning and only four blades on its five-bladed ceiling fan, she saw what it looked like when he smiled. Not smirked, or grinned, or faked the real thing, but the real thing itself. He was genuinely pleased by the offer. "Damn right I do." "Good. We're going to my office, and we're going to talk about what martial law looks like." The smile turned nasty. "Now you're speaking my language." "We're going to talk about what it looks like, because we need to make sure it doesn't look like that //here.// These people are going to be freaked the fuck out for the forseeable future. They probably need to be, if we're going to get out of this. But I don't want to have to shoot anybody doesn't need shooting, and that means managing expectations. You get me?" He inclined his head. She matched the incline. "Roger. I need to know that you //get// me." "Sure. I get you. Gunpowder's a finite commodity, now." [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Lillian took a moment to dodge into her office and confirm that it was, in every way that mattered, still her office, then headed back to the Director's Complex to resume her interrogations. //Intarrowgations.// She hadn't anticipated it, but taking a detour and taking the time to snicker into her labcoat at her own terrible joke produced a nevertheless unsurprising outcome: Daniil Sokolsky was standing at the door to McInnis' quarters when she arrived. That he was flanked by Nhung Ngo qualified merely as a detail. "What's up?" she drawled, as if she didn't know. "Do you know what I do," Sokolsky asked her, "when I'm listening to a boring speech in the auditorium?" "Masturbate in your seat?" Ngo made a face that was twice her age. "I do a headcount. I see who else is there. I keep track of how many people work in every Section, and I try to pick each one of them out. I don't usually remember the names, since of course I'm not as gifted as the immortal Lillian Lillihammer--" "I'm not immortal, see?" She pulled the white hair down in front of her face again, to demonstrate. "And I don't memorize people's names. Why would I do that? That's their job." "--but I'm pretty good with faces, and I'm //very// good with pattern recognition, and I'm just plain //fantastic// with facial pattern recognition, and I guess where I'm going with this is: where's the missing engineer, Lillian, and where are those twin blonde doctors, and why have you got them locked up in there?" She sighed. "Nhung, have you been with him since he left the auditorium?" The psychologist nodded. "Why?" Lillian jerked a thumb at her. "She act weird?" Sokolsky shook his head. "Okay." She smiled humourlessly at Ngo. "You're clean, then. He'd notice." "Notice what?" "If you'd been possessed. And he can't be, so." "I can't?" Sokolsky's expression was mild as milk. "Nope." "How do you know that?" "Figure it out yourself, if you're so smart. Alright. You grabbed Nhung and you came here, which means you not only know we've got them stashed inside, but you know I'm going in for a chat, and you want in on it. Yeah?" "Yeah. I brought her so we don't accidentally torture them." "Good thinking." Ngo blinked. "Beg pardon?" "We're probably really good at interrogations." Lillian shifted focus from Sokolsky to Ngo, partially because she was addressing the latter, mostly because the former was clearly mouthing //intarrowgations.// Oh, she did rather like him. "I mean, scary good. Both of us at once, there's a chance we discover some new form of extreme rendition the GOC needs to ban next year." "If there //is// a next year," Sokolsky smirked. "Or a GOC." "He's already figuring it out. Good for him. What a champ." Lillian patted Ngo on the shoulder. "You're here to make sure we actually learn something from these chicks, instead of just driving them nuts." "So you're fine with the company?" Sokolsky asked, one eyebrow raised. "More fine than I'd be with not knowing where you are, and what you're doing there." [!-- [[=image Lillihammer_Sokolsky_Ngo.jpg]] --] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] They'd had a long-standing agreement, the Survivors, on who could always be trusted to know the nature of their temporary reality. Prominent in that list were members of personnel who could be counted on to figure it out themselves eventually; this included Ngo for her psychoanalysis, Sokolsky for his overanalysis. Since it was likely to become germane, Lillian quickly briefed the two of them before the interrogation started. Sokolsky didn't seem surprised, but he did seem excited, which was probably a bad thing. Ngo, however, visibly realized something the moment the explanation was out, and laughed. "That," she said, "explains why I had a dream last night about a thing that never happened." It did not, in fact, explain that, and Lillian would be pondering the meaning of the dreams for a good long while yet. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Veiksaar shook her head. "I really don't get it." "Neither do I." Du tore off the manual printout, and compared it to what was on his screen. "This doesn't make any sense." "What doesn't?" Nascimbeni was sitting at one of the monitoring consoles in the DUAL Core control room, watching the two of them work. He was a hardware man, and he still thought of 'software' as his television producer brother-in-law's industry term for re-runs. "I don't remember doing any of this." Du waved the printout at him. "But the raws and the programs match. In addition to the baseline checks, I've been running unreported sims. Lots of unreported sims." "Lots of lots of unreported sims." Veiksaar closed the panel she'd been peering into, and shut off her penlight. "I'd say you went through three component generations doing this." She walked to a supply cupboard along the back wall, and pulled it open. "Mm. Four. I guess you wiped the sockets between replacements at least once." This, Nascimbeni more or less understood. "He wore out the moving parts? They're rated for what, a year's workload each?" "A year's //hard// workload," Du corrected. "And as far as I remember, we weren't working it that hard. One big sim takes a lot less load than a lot of smaller ones, because of code duplication. The logs say the Core has been running non-stop since last month. I'm amazed nobody came to check on the power draw." Veiksaar knelt beneath one of the control consoles, turned her light on again, and stuck it in her mouth. "Ouat's dah tranthfer meeder thay, Dini?" Du leaned around the Core's apex to check a dial just above his eye level. "Ten megawatts." "At westh?!" "At rest." "Ouat dah thuck." "I concur. Anything interesting down there?" "Durn it oth." "You're sure?" "Durn it oth right now." She was rolling back out, the light in her hand again. She switched it off. "The wires are //bleeding.//" Du sat down at the master console and abused the keyboard rapid-fire. The ambient hum in the room died down to the level of the circulating fans, and beneath them, the rotating central processing unit slowed its relentless churn. "It's off." "What are the wires bleeding?" Nascimbeni stood up. "Were you looking at the fluidics, or the coolant flow, or--" "The power lines, Noè. They were bleeding //actual blood.//" "He must have tied it into the orphic outflow." Du whistled. "Son of a bitch, that worked? That //worked.// I guess we owe him one for testing it out." Nascimbeni knew that Acroamatic Abatement Facility AAF-D's orphic outflow conduits produced an electric charge due to friction between the oriykalkos lamination and the ectoplasm within. But that was bled off in paraspectral conduits, because unlike normal power sources, orphic outflow had a tendency to haunt whatever it was plugged into. "Are you telling me Wirth was running extra simulations on //ghost juice?//" Du nodded. "Lillian did say he was a ghost. So I guess that's apropos." "That's got to be it, then." Nascimbeni pulled off his baseball cap and scratched at his sweaty scalp; whatever was meant to be keeping the Core cool hadn't been doing its job. He wondered if the fans had been transformed into bat wings, or were sporting human teeth now. "That's what he did. He used the Core to imprint a new reality over the old one." Both of them snorted at once. "What makes you think it can do that?" Du snapped. "That's ridiculous," Veiksaar agreed. "You can run more sims with more power, but the CPU would bottleneck you well before you reached ontokinetic potentiality. And it's still just a //computer.//" "The best computer ever made," Du corrected her with narrowed eyes, "but yes, I mostly agree." Nascimbeni had been remembering the anomalously duplicated DUAL Core, from what Lillian had started calling the "QUAD Core Incident," back in baseline reality. The orphic connection had been key there, too. Obviously the two situations weren't perfect analogues, and certainly he was playing inside pool. But that was easy enough to brush past, because "I'm not a computer guy. So sue me. Though if the Core didn't remake reality, what the hell was he doing with it?" Du shrugged. "Practice?" [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] "So, a semigod then." Ibanez stared at her. So did Michael Nass. The office of the Chair of T&T was full of effigies and haloed portraits gazing down on them beneficently, or else glaring in condemnation of whatever impure thoughts might presently rule their minds. Brenda Corbin's casual heresy would do nicely. "Semigod," Nass repeated. Corbin rolled an empty tube of rolling paper between her fingers. "New one on both of you? Mike, I'm shocked." "I've heard of //demi//gods," said Ibanez. "How about hemigods?" "Brenda," Nass sighed. "I don't see how this is helping." The wiry little theologian sat forward in her chair, and tapped the butt of the empty cigarette against her forehead. "It matters how we think about these things. You know that. We need to make sure we use the right words, build the right frameworks. The things we describe might actually be //responsive// to those descriptions. You've read the ASC's paper." "Yes, but that relates to indigenous myth figures. We have no reason to imagine it's relevant here." Ibanez raised a hand to interrupt what was starting to sound like an old argument resumed after an interval, rather than starting for the first time in her presence. "Could one of you fill me in?" Nass's eyes rolled back a little as he tried to recall the details. "He postulated that indigenous cultures might still, even after colonialism, be coherent enough in comparison to colonial ones to keep the connection to their deities intact. So despite reduced numbers, his people could still see their beliefs reflected in the world around them. They know what they're looking at, so they can actually //see// it." He met her eyes again, then Corbin's. "But I think his description of European systems is more pertinent. Something like 'Belief can make a god'." "Humankind," Corbin murmured. "'One human can make a difference. Humankind can make a god'." "Sure. That. So if we're dealing with the more common type of deity here -- assuming it's a deity at all -- we might literally be able to wish it out of existence, rather than trying to make our descriptions align with what it already is." "Which is a semigod, apparently," said Ibanez. "Whatever that means." "I just made it up," Brenda admitted. She winked. "But it seems accurate to your description. Something big got blown up in that breach all those years ago, and bits of it stuck to anyone unlucky enough to be inside. Got into them. Partially deified them. Semigods." [[=image DL_44_09_Corbin_Wink.jpg]] "Sure." Ibanez shrugged. "What's a hemigod?" "An equal half-god. Split right down the middle. Demi- carries an implication of being less-than." "If Wirth is a semigod, where do you think the other six parts ended up?" "Out in the ether?" Corbin squashed her lips flat and widened her eyes in a froglike gesture of not knowing. "Maybe nowhere. The point is, he's not the real deal. He's a microdeity. That's a lot more manageable. If we can suss out his nature more precisely, we should be able to develop a response that works better than telekill and prayer." "Don't discount prayer," Nass smiled. "Gods need it badly, don't you know." "We have that in common, right now," Ibanez reminded them. Apropos of nothing, Corbin winked at her again. [!-- [[=image Ibanez_Nass_Corbin.jpg]] --] [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] Stacey Laiken was sitting on a vinyl couch, surrounded by binders and tapping on a laptop computer. She often liked to do her paperwork in the common area, because she was a gregarious creature at heart. Udo took a seat nearby, at a right angle, and spent a few seconds rearranging her labcoat, hood, and mass of tangled curls. "So much for baseline." Laiken set aside her laptop. "What a mess." "No kidding." Udo yawned. "But at least we're doing something about it. Allan-- //the Director// wants me to run a few tests." Laiken raised one yellow eyebrow. "No kidding? The ouija boards weren't enough for him, huh. What sort of tests?' Udo unclipped her reagents pouch and hefted it where Laiken could see. "Gonna take a tour, make sure there's nothing strange in the air. You up to supervising?" The other woman beamed at her. "Anything for a fellow wyrd sister." Udo laughed. She reached back to bundle her hair up into a ponytail -- Harry called it a mare-tail, since most ponytails weren't three feet long -- and then pulled the hood up over her head. "Don't let anybody burn me while I'm out." "Cross my heart." To Udo's surprise, Laiken reached out and took her left hand. Her skin was very soft. Udo undid the drawstring, reached into the pouch, and drew herself out grain by grain. Before long she was a constellation of silicon, soaring through conduits of steel and polymer, but somehow she never quite lost track of the sensation of Laiken's fingertips brushing against her palm. [[=]] @@ @@ [[image http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png]] @@ @@ [[/=]] McInnis parcelled out access codes to the other Survivors, and a select few of his administrative staff, for clearance to the topside elevator. "I don't want anyone going up there without one of us present," he'd told Harry. "We know things they don't. We might spot something they won't. And they might see things we don't want becoming general knowledge." Del had naturally responded: "If they see something they shouldn't, can I push them off?" McInnis hadn't responded, and she'd never clarified whether she was joking. Harry was a connoisseur of atmospheric horror. He didn't care for jump scares, he found most gore appalling, but he enjoyed a palpable sense of dread from time to time. That was part of the attraction of marrying archive-diving with paranormal research. Detective work, with the added bonus of a chill down your spine. For that reason he lasted until just after midnight of the second day before abusing his access to the edge of eternity. Bremmel and Nascimbeni had supervised the erection of a gantry where the barracks block had been, rated for the weight of twenty persons and surrounding the elevator exit on all four sides, extending out two metres over the black, and since he couldn't sleep anyway he figured he might as well enjoy a few cheap thrills alone. When the doors opened, however, he saw that wasn't in the cards. Karen Elstrom was leaning on the gleaming steel rail, staring out into nothing. She didn't turn to look as he approached, didn't react as the doors slid shut again behind him. Harry took a deep breath; he wasn't sure what he'd expected, the recycled taste of Site-43's artificial supply or the cool autumn breeze that would have prevailed here back in baseline, but the warm and tasteless air of utter nowhere wasn't it. He looked up, but only for a moment. It was disorienting. He looked down, through the tight lattice grating, at the industrial supports riveted into the sturdy elevator shaft, and shivered. There was only one safe direction, for a given definition, and he finished his approach to it. Karen did glance at him as he took a station beside her at the rail. Together they looked at nothing, said nothing, did nothing else for several minutes, and then she pulled a package of cigarettes out of her pants pocket, and stared at it instead. He felt compelled to lecture her. To discourage the activity she already knew she shouldn't engage in. It was no fun, but it was the right thing to do. A moral obligation. Sometimes peer pressure was-- She flipped the packet over the edge. The cellphane wrapper caught on the tip of her finger and tore as the cardboard plunged down, and when it too slipped away it left a spiralling streamer which caught the worklights mounted to the gantry and was still visible for quite some time. Harry leaned over the edge, and saw a thing no living person had ever seen before yesterday: the upper membrane of Site-43's first sublevel, one kilometre down. It was festooned with lights, and some of them were moving. Like a city in the distance, translated from horizontal to vertical. //The Outer Limits,// he thought, and he almost chuckled. There was a faint //whoosh// of air from the elevator vents behind them, and they both looked up as a cloud of sparkling particles rose up into the emptiness above them, pinprick lights in a cloudless night sky. When he looked back down, she was looking up at him. She took off her glasses, and he watched the false stars dancing in her eyes. She usually held her head high, and tilted back, so she could look down her nose at people, but she wasn't doing that now. Each held the other's gaze for a long, long moment -- he hadn't seen her eyes so wide and warm in years -- and then they turned back to the void together. She put her glasses back on. Some time later, he couldn't be sure how long, she shifted her stance and pressed her thigh against his, using his weight as support. He waited for a while, not looking, in case it was a fluke. When she didn't pull away again, he tentatively reached around her waist and rested his hand against her hip. [[=image DL_44_11_Elstank.jpg]] It was certainly better than nothing. [!-- [[=image Elstrom_Blank_Elevator.jpg]] --] @@ @@ [[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/43-nothing-happens \| previous-title=Nothing Happens \| next-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/45-nothing-to-worry-about \| next-title=Nothing to Worry About \| hub-url=https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/deadlined-hub \| hub-title=The Breach Goes On: Deadlined ]] [[=]] [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box">:scp-wiki:component:license-box</a>]] ===== [[<]] This chapter contains the full text of Edgar W. McInnis, "Our Dug-Out," 1918, in the public domain. The fictional volume "Lines in a Muddle" also takes its name from this poem. Illustrations in this series use reference material created with DAZ studio. Images of the following characters utilized the following photographic references as well: Brenda Corbin: "Screen Shot 2022-07-09 at 19.20.22" by Tracy Rolling, released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/tracy_the_astonishing/52222024374 Karen Elstrom: "Natalya" by Anastasia Pavlenko, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/zamerzla/50841210177 Allan McInnis: "Harsh" by Jeremy Jenum, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenumfamily/10382904023 Noè Nascimbeni: "abdul" by Davidlohr Bueso, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/54829270@N00/5733944992 Nhung Ngo: Nhi Dang, "Huyen," released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/nhi_dg/7186551316/ and Rod Waddington, "Hmong Woman," released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/rod_waddington/44409399060 Imogen and Madchen Tarrow are based on "Teacher Leader Conference 2 August 2012" courtesy US Department of Education, released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/48445211@N06/7733033618 Eileen Veiksaar: "Claudia's Revenge" and "side" by rochelle hartman, both released CC BY 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/tinfoilraccoon/475773689 https://www.flickr.com/photos/tinfoilraccoon/4626047470 William Wettle: "Scruffy self-portrait" by Nic McPhee, released CC BY-SA 2.0: https://www.flickr.com/photos/26406919@N00/2189606260 > Filename: Everything! > Author: [[user HarryBlank]] > License:* CC BY-SA 3.0 [[/<]] ===== [[include <a href="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:license-box-end">:scp-wiki:component:license-box-end</a>]] [[/=]]	2024-09-08T23:35:00	[ "_cc", "_licensebox", "chief-ibanez", "deadlined", "director-mcinnis", "director-scout", "doctor-blank", "doctor-elstrom", "doctor-lillihammer", "doctor-okorie", "doctor-wettle", "illustrated", "mystery", "on-guard-43", "philip-deering", "post-apocalyptic", "slice-of-life", "tale" ]	Next to Nothing - SCP Foundation	46	[ "secure-facility-dossier-site-43", "43-nothing-happens", "deadlined-hub", "45-nothing-to-worry-about", "component:license-box", "licensing-guide" ]	[ "deadlined-hub" ]	[ "http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/", "http://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/the-b-b-decommission/Asterisk43.png" ]	1456710191	https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/44-next-to-nothing

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